Picking a topic is one of the hardest parts about doing this thing. Oh, I have lots of ideas, but I never know which one I should start writing about. My topics can be broken down into three categories so far: 1) personal anecdotes, 2) observations/curiosities, and 3) songs/poems. Under the observation/curiosities section, there is a sub-section of low brow topics. I have three ideas there, and I will pick one of those so that I can adequately space the low brow posts apart so as to avoid a dense low brow post cluster. Strategery. Now, I will randomly assign the topics to a side of a coin and that will decide what I write about. The topics are potties, bad words, and men. Flipping….. damn. Forgot to assign. Ok, flipping again….. damn. There are only two sides to the coin and three topics. Ok, I will assign two topics and then have a flip off. Wait.. that’s not fair. Then one topic technically has to win two coin flips while another may only have to win one flip. Low brow, indeed… You ever notice that when you think of a low brow person, (referring to the original gene-bearers of our species), that you always imagine a man? Clearly there had to be low brow women at that time, as well, but images of early humans are invariably male. I believe this is because it is easier to imagine dumb early humans as males. Men project an aura of simplicity that….. nah. I’ll save that for the “men” topic. Potties wins today.
My low brow topics require a disclaimer.
Disclaimer: If you are offended by references that may be found in a discussion about toilets, please do not continue reading. References may include, but are not necessarily limited to: sights, sounds, smells, and behaviors associated with toileting areas. Should you choose to continue reading, you may find that your opinion of the writer greatly diminishes and you may experience an inexplicable urge to run to a wash basin and scour your hands with soapy water. But you will not be able to scour your mind. You have been politely warned.
Stall Wars (Part One).. (Episode IV).. (number nine.. number nine.. number nine) A New Poop
I tried really hard to figure out how to have a Star Wars music and text scroll intro here, but I am limited in my tech skills. Just imagine how funny it would have been… in fact, just imagine how funny any of this could be. It would be better that way.
Now, on to poopy talk! Specifically, I want to discuss public restrooms, but before I get to that, I want to briefly explain why the topic of toileting interests me. As if doing so will somehow salvage anyone’s respect for me. Toileting is the one carnal necessity that can not be avoided. Buffy can choose to abstain from disgusting sex or eating solid foods, but at some point, even prissy little Buffy has to lower her powdered little fanny over a bowl designed to catch her stinky fecal discharge. Yes, even Buffy’s shit stinks. This idea of commonality that binds all humans; poor and rich, ugly and beautiful, imbecilic and genius is wonderful to me! We all do it! Kings, queens, presidents, the pope! Oprah!…. sorry. Didn’t mean to put a pooping Oprah into your mind. Anyway, everyone poops, and all species that I can think of poops, or expels waste in some way, as far as I know. And yet, the very topic of pooping is taboo. For that matter, people turn up their noses when I even discuss farting.
And not because I farted. I think. People are just uncomfortable with discussing it. Now, yes… I acknowledge that toileting is kind of gross. But lighten up people. By going and taking a dump. I love that expression.
Now, public restrooms. This is a place that I have found both fascinating and mortifying for as long as I can remember. Because while I am comfortable discussing using the toilet, I have never enjoyed doing it publically. I feel that I’m probably not alone in this feeling and that’s weird, considering that some of our ancient ancestors ‘conducted their business’ communally. Not only would ancient Romans share an open toileting area together, but they would even share sponges with which they wiped their backsides with. That is very disgusting. But it illustrates how toileting used to be considered a very natural thing that involved no shame.
Now we covet privacy when we poop. I remember when I was in elementary school, there was a bathroom that had sitting toilets with partitions, but no doors. I would always hope to get through the day without having to go, but once in a while I would just have to. When I did go, I would always sit there in fear, trying with all my might to force it out quickly while hoping that no body would walk by and see my beet red exerted toileting face. This, of course, did happen one day, and the twerp that caught me there proceeded to brutally harass me by grabbing the partition edges, squatting down and grunting really hard while making a face in mockery of my exertion. I sat there helpless with my pants down and my hand between my legs pushing my winker down while the red of exertion on my face transformed into the red of horrific embarrassment.
I was reminded of this incident years later as an adult when, while in a mall bathroom stall,
a couple of kids peaked through the little gap between the door and the partition, witnessed me exerting on the pot, and proceeded to make grunting noises in mockery. I was not making any noises, but it was still very funny to them. Noises are one of the biggest parts of the discomfort of public restrooms. Most people can control noises of exertion, if they attempt to. Sadly, there are some of you that fail to have this filter in place. But the sound that is tougher to monitor is the sound of your excrement hitting the water. This sound creates a very awkward feeling in me. If someone else is doing it, I think, “That was the sound of someone’s poop hitting toilet water.” It registers that literally in my simple brain. When I am the one making the noise, I think, “Oh lord, that is the sound of my poop hitting toilet water, and someone out there is thinking ‘that is the sound of someone’s poop hitting toilet water’, and they are judging me based on its tone, pitch and volume.” Because men actually do that. I loud splash is a manly poop. Dainty plops are not manly.
This was first brought to my attention when, as a little kid, I saw the film 1941 starring John Belushi. It was a comedy about World War II. Because that war was hilarious, apparently. Anyway, the only two things I remember about that movie are that a ferris wheel rolls into the ocean after a missile hits it, and a scene in which Belushi impresses his Japanese captors by making them believe he has huge poo. He was captive on a submarine and had to go to the bathroom. They let him go and proceeded to eavesdrop on the door. Belushi climbs up on a rafter, takes off a boot, and drops it from the ceiling into the toilet, thereby creating a huge splashing sound. I think he did this multiple times. The Japanese eavesdroppers marveled at the sounds, oo-ing and ah-ing. They were clearly impressed
by the massive American poo. Perhaps shit envy is what motivated the bombing of Pearl Harbor.
This movie scene taught me that poo sounds matter….. It’s so funny. Women remember things like important dates and men remember things like faux defecation scenes in John Belushi movies. We are sadly inferior.
So, if you are a dude who happens to have been on a salad binge of late, and are in a public restroom, prepare to be mentally ridiculed by listeners-by who are creating tidal waves with their meat and potatoes. I have been salad guy. I have actually sat on a toilet in a room that I knew was occupied by other dudes and dreaded what may come out. You never know. “Please be a manly poo”, I secretly think…. ‘Plop’… ‘Plip’. “Dammit!”… ‘Ploop’. Then a cluster ball emerges and discharges turd schrapnel.. ‘Ploopity-plip… plup, plop’. The fear was bad enough at one point that I use to lay down a toilet paper buffer/turd-silencer layer before sitting down to dampen the sound. This also doubled as protection from public toilet water spritzing my dook shooter, causing that instant sphincter clamp and thoughts of the filth that previously waded in those waters. I stopped doing that, though, as I felt silly for wasting extra toilet paper just to save me a little turd-sound insecurity.
The sound of wiping is also embarrassing. ‘Roll-roll-roll-roll… rip… crumple… scuff-scuff-scuff… fold… scuff-scuff-scuff’.. Of course, these sounds are minimized if you have dainty poo, as you tend to have a cleaner hiney following. Point to salad guy.
At this point, I have written quite a bit, and have decided to make this a three-part post. I will stop here for now. Hmm.. for some reason I feel compelled to meaninglessly implement Star Wars into this now that it is a trilogy. Not sure how yet….. Anyway, stay tuned for the next installment which will feature an in-depth look at the urinal. Happy pooping!!