I’ve resigned myself to the fact that birds see my Blazer as an expensive outhouse, but they’ve recently reached a new level of crappiness—projectile pooping.
It’s hard to make out in this picture, but on a rainy Sunday afternoon a feathered freak somehow managed to poop on my glass door. How does this happen? In order for that to occur, the stealthy shitter would have to literally hover in the air and aim, exerting a certain amount of force in order for the load to lodge on the glass. I am baffled, but also slightly impressed.
Because let’s cut the crap—pooping is wonderful.
I’ll go on record (with TMI) and say that a good “constitution” makes me happier than just about anything else. Due to years of abuse, I totally screwed up my digestive system and used to go a full week without “elimination.” It took about five years for my body to forgive me and recover and I still suffer from IBS, but with careful diet choices, research, a predictable routine and the fact that I’m not screwing it up, my bowels and I get along swimmingly.
I’m not alone in the neurotic nature of bowel sensitivity.
David Sedaris has a chapter in “Naked” in which as an OCD child, he’s sent to Greece for a month and never had a bowel movement because he was out of his routine.
“Sitting down three times a day for a heavy Greek meal became an exercise akin to packing a musket.”
I can totally relate, which is another reason that I’m not a fan of traveling. When my schedule gets thrown off, my bowel isn’t the only thing that gets irritable. If I don’t go, I have no appetite, and anything that messes with my food is on my shit list.
However, it’s not exactly “proper” to discuss these things, which I find kind of weird.
We all know it happens, yet it’s often (crop) dusted over with an embarrassed but knowing glance when someone accidentally lets one rip or needs a few minutes in the bathroom. Why is it such a “taboo” topic for most people?
Heck, people talk about sex all the time, and from what I can remember that’s just as messy and much less satisfying.
Now I’m not saying we need to go around talking crap with everyone. There is obviously a certain sense of decorum and flatulence isn’t exactly something to bring up in a job interview—although that might liven things up. But when the situation presents itself, I don’t see what’s so embarrassing.
As the old saying goes, “I’d rather fart and bear the shame than hold it in and bear the pain.”
Crap happens, but let’s keep it off my dining room door.
I’m looking at you, you little feathered freak…
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