TRIGGER WARNING! IF YOU HAVE EVER BEEN ABUSED BY POOP BEFORE DO NOT READ ANY FURTHER!!
This is not a picture of me. In case you were wondering.
I have no problem with poop. No . . .I mean real poop. Crap/shit/feces whatever you want to call it. I like the word poop because it makes me giggle a little inside. I’m not a big fan of the smell, but I like poop jokes, pictures of poop, talking about poop etc. . .When I directed my first play my cast got me a poster all about poop because I told so many poop jokes.
This is the poster or a reasonable facsimile:
It mainly talks about types of poop. You’ve seen it before.
This is my favorite poop joke:
A young man was delighted to finally be asked home to meet the parents. He was quite nervous about the meeting, though, and by the time he arrived punctually at the doorstep he was in a state of gastric distress.
The problem developed into one of acute flatulence and halfway through canapés the young man realized that he couldn’t hold it in one second longer without exploding. A tiny fart escaped.
“Spot,” called out the young woman’s mother to the family dog lying at the young man’s feet.
Relieved at the dog getting the blame, the young man let another slightly larger one go.
“Spot,” she cried out sharply.
“I’ve got it made,” thought the fellow to himself. “One more and I’ll be fine.” So he let loose a really big one.
“Spot,” shrieked the mother, “get over here before he shits on you!”
I say all of this to make a confession. For years I could not go to the bathroom to poop unless it was in my own bathroom in my own home. The girl who could talk and joke about crap all day would NEVER do it in a public bathroom or even one that was not hers. I am not sure what I thought could go wrong but I knew SOMETHING would. I just KNEW it!
I even cut my visit short with my sister who lives about 2 1/2 hours away because I felt some bubbling down there. Finally one day I confessed to her why I had left and she said that was the silliest thing. So the next time I stayed and I ended up backing her toilet up and her husband had to come and fix it. Yeah, talk about a self-fulfilling prophecy.
Nowadays thanks to a pretty bad case of the stomach flu that came with explosive diarrhea I am cured of my public poop phobia. When you have to choose between taking a public bathroom poop or crapping your pants in front of 30 teenage kids, you go with the lesser of two evils.
This is what they would have looked like. I would have had to quit.