Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Bite Me and Anal Explosions
I am going to forgo my morning venture out today.
I don't need much of a reason to skip my jogs, but today's excuse is legitimate and stems from the fact that I have visited the bathroom on three separate occasions in about one hour. All visits begin with a sense of puckering urgency and end in me screaming at Chris.
"Watch the baby," I shriek, panicked and doubled-over, as I careen into the master bath.
I hope she gives him hell because I'm pretty certain that this issue is directly caused by his suggestion to buy cheap boxed wine last night to go along with the insipid "Fast and Furious" DVD we watched.
I can't think of a worse situation on a jog than an impending bowel emergency. Really. Although, as I think about it, there would be plenty of places to hide in our immediate neighborhood if the urgency became such that I needed to do something about it.
But...the baby in the gigantic stroller would cause a discretionary problem and I think, if push came to shove, I don't know if I could put my bare ass so close to the ground in Florida.
I am a regular viewer of "Bite Me with Dr. Mike" on the Travel Channel and his recent episode on Florida made me view sewers in a completely different light. There are so many things that could kill or maim you here. And let's face it, if one pulls down her pants and exposes her bare ass to the creepy crawlies on the ground, she is basically begging for it ~ exposing a great, big, irresitable target for all that is deadly and stings in central Florida.
(Bite Me is, by the way, a fantastic if you want to be completely freaked out by anywhere you would like to vacation and want to see a grown man with his pants around his ankles [conspicuously missing underwear] trying to crap out a kazillion foot long tapeworm from a pill he swallowed in a third-world country.)
Actually, there is no good place to have an "anal explosion" as Chris calls them. This happened a lot to me when I was younger, and I probably could have been diagnosed with IBS if such a thing existed 25-30 years ago.
Any new or different situation would cause diahhrea for me, perhaps because I was a very, very nervous child. Early memories for me are of those in the bathroom, crying with stomach cramps, most notably leading up to (including the morning of) the first day of school. This occurred every single year until, I believe, I graduated from high school.
The fact that I suffered nervous craps every year before school makes the idea that my two children, who just started brand new schools this fall, produced neither a tear nor a foul smell from their butts at any point leading up to their first days. This is profoundly, deeply impressive to me. I would have been a train wreck, crying and sick every day through at LEAST the first week.
So, alas, I'm sitting today out.
I have some Bravo programming to catch up on and some toilets to clean.