In a shameless attempt to boost ratings I'm going to steal a page from the promotional acumen of television networks. Whenever the Discovery Channel hosts 'Shark Week', it really brings viewers in. Poop is also a natural wonder, is it not? With the rise of the Farrelly Brothers and the rousing success of their revolting sense of humor, I naturally thought I could capitalize on a tie-in to my many stories involving excrement. Oh, what a fun week this is going to be! Today I would like to share two tales of intrigue, surprise endings, and poop.
My husband, Papi, served as a missionary in the state of Veracruz in Mexico. Most of the time though he was assigned to small villages skirting the jungles and the Gulf of Mexico. Many of these places lacked indoor plumbing and that is the perfect setup for all kinds of classic, comedy gold, poop stories. So, him and his companion were visiting with a family in the Church when the call of nature struck. Papi asked to use the facilities and the lady told him it was out in the back of the house. Papi looked all around and couldn't find it so he came back and asked again. The woman gave him a guided tour to a place located right on the side of the main road that ran through the village. Yes, it was their privy but it was nothing more than a hole in the ground surrounded by a structure holding a shower curtain for the maximum "privy privacy". Well, Papi completed his mission and went to reach for the toilet paper. After finding none he took out his missionary schedule book and then proceeded to memorize an entire weeks worth of appointments so that the pages within could go on and serve a higher purpose. Talk about recycling paper!
The other one involves my brother. For a couple of years he went door to door with a team of guys selling home security systems. A member of the crew got the irrepressible poop urge at a most inconvenient time. Since nobody was at the house that he had just tried to sell to, he decided to just squat down in the yard by the bushes and poop there. It was only about 6:30 P.M., dusk, so he couldn't even hide under the cover of darkness. Can you imagine, a grown man crouching and crapping like a dog in the front yard of a suburban home? The van with the rest of the guys pulled up just in time to see him scooting across the grass with his pants around his ankles in a futile attempt to clean his rear. Every since that day, a day that will live in infamy, they have nicknamed him, "Scooter", and "Grassy Ass", (Gracias), because of his ethnicity. I wonder if that's how Scooter Libby got his nickname also?
4 comments:
I was in the Army from '96-2000, and in '97 I went to Ft. Irwin (NTC) in the Mojave Desert during winter. The desert is flat and you can see for miles at a stretch. It's actually very beautiful, although it can drive people nuts (ex: Islamists). Anyway, that is not the point. I was out about 500m from my company behind a piece of scrubbrush, doing the dookie, when my 1SG pulled up in his hummvee and started talking to me, right in the middle of my squats. I was prairie doggin'!!! Now, when your excess wastes are half-in/half-out, and they are rock solid from eating MREs, your sense of modesty is extremely high AND privacy is very important. I felt very...awkward...Also, I felt guilty for not showing respect for 1SG's rank by standing @ parade-rest. Strange...
The sound of my voice actually unstops the most unstoppable. My sister has to poop every time she talks to me on the phone so she now, lovingly, calls me "Enemaly". So next time you find yourself reaching for the ex-lax, reach for the phone instead.
Who knew you blog readers could tell such touching, beautiful stories about poop? I'm welling up with emotional tears.
Emily, you are SO LUCKY to have sisters to bestow meaningful nicknames on you. I don't have any sisters, but I do have the warehouse guy where I work. Major lovingly refers to me as, 'MONEY WHORE'. Here I gave him two wonderful nicknames, 'MAJOR', and 'SEXY BEAST', and this is how he treats me.
Maybe it's because he writes my check bi-monthly and I won't allow his unscrupulous alter ego to cheat me. I nag him about every penny. Maybe I truly am a MONEY WHORE.
Have you ever pooped and you strained for hours, the blood vessels popped in your face from the effort, you screamed in agony, you were sure you were giving birth or being made over by a bull and then when it was done, you looked to see that enormous abomination that caused you such pain to find your poop was the size of a pea?
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