Good Morning. Hello. How are you? #1613
The Scatology Edition
(Originally mis-numbered as 1602)
Hello hello hello. Good morning. Happy Friday to you, fine people. I hope it’s a good ‘un.
Special single-topic issue today. SCATOLOGY EDITION. And now, sadly, we are not talking about the Coil album, first Coil album I ever bought, actually. And all I’d heard before that was their cover of Tainted Love, so, you know, surprise! Also weird, I am only now really thinking about how Coil’s Scatology does not include their hit “The Anal Staircase.” Hrm. Interesting that. Those guys loved butts. Gay sex butts.
I guess this was a little bit about Coil’s album.
But mainly, well. How shall I put this? I have a medication I take now and again. I was prescribed it for neck pain but it comes part and parcel with a side effect of anti-depressant. Which is great! I am much happier. I took it a year ago and it was swell but then I thought I was fine so I stopped. But then, well, you know, gestures vaguely, all this.
But the drug has another side-effect besides anti-depression. And that is constipation. My god, man. You know, the first time I was taking it, I did not link the sudden onset of massive constipation with the drug and neither did my doctor. I just thought maybe it was aging, or my endless diet tweakings. But no, as I go back on it a year later, the constipation comes roaring back. Giant, solid, thick-ass turds that take forever to come out, keep me always feeling slightly bloated.
Last time I tackled it with Miralax, got a whole regemin going, it was a real process. Adjsuted my whole life and beverage habit around this, found a good dose and groove, bought bulk, thought “this is my life now” and got on with things.
Then the giant turds stopped. Like I said, cuz of the drug but I didn’t realize it at the time. I was free! No more need for all this Miralex. But I kept all that extra around the house for a year because, you know, you’ll never know when you need it again.
And now, suddenly, those big thick turds have returned.
(You know what? Bolding seems weird in this edition we’re gonna stop.)
I realized though that unlike most big thick turds, which are rock-hard, these are kinda soft, you know? So you can just sorta do some squeezes as it comes out and shape em a little bit? Keep the stretch pain down. Not like normal giant turds that are so hard that the correct move is to relax. No, these you can manage.
So we have not been using the Miralax anymore. We’ve been doing some sculpting. Some anal scuplting. Oh that’s good that one gets a bold. Well, it would.
And the old supply of Miralax is still kicking around, but I haven’t touched it once this time. Very proud of that.
And the turds aren’t ripping my butthole apart like the old days, man. We won’t talk about that. Or maybe we will. You ever use a cream for anal fissures? Bit ‘o’ trivia for you: Nothing, nothing on the planet will give you massive headaches faster than anal fissure ointment,
Oh yeah, this edition feels good. Sure no one will ever find me attractive again but… hahaha they weren’t going to anyway. I AM FREE.
The other problem with this drug is that, well, basically every impending fart makes me feel like I have to poop. And even thought he poops just will not come out easily and there is zero risk of sharting, I am constantly convinced I have to take a dump. It is messing with my brain, maaan.
I should send this entire entry to my Doctor I wonder what she would think of me.
“And you sent this to 500 people?”
“Well, yeah. And posted it on the socials.”
“Okaaaay.”
Been doin’ my Wordle on the john while doing this anal sculpting of late. Ever since Jane got tired of it for the Ford-branded Tetris ripoff. Gotten two twos! Maybe constipation assists in cognitive thinking.
(Do you capitalize “john” when referring to toilet? I think no? Right?)
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We are listening today to today’s scatology-themed playlist. I am only on track four but it is pretty great. Really all over the map this playlist. Bands of all genres love singing about turds. Also might have to watch Josie and the Pussycats again what a great movie. Semi-relatedly Letters to Cleo are reuniting and a) I kinda wanna go to Boston for it? b) Adam Scott better show up on stage.
This is only tangentially related to poop, but it’d an errant note that has been in my GMHHAY topics for a while. And that is the provenence-turned-dirtiness of “Blow your load/wad/roll” and “money shot.” Originally both of these were benign in origin! The wad/load/roll was money! The “money shot” was the expensive VFX shot in the movie not the spooge!
And now you can’t say either one of them in a work environment. And I do not have handy replacements for either. Especially the first.
Enshittification? Enspoogification!
Maybe 1 in 1200 butts are sexy. The rest are just funny. This seems true. I wonder if that ratio is different for different people. I wonder if that ratio is different for different people, due to preferences. Are there “I love all butt lovers” out there? Maybe! I came up with this number while sitting at a middlingly upscale mall, one of the places where you can see a real slice of America, all walks of life. Most butts are just not sexy.
A note in my “notes for scatology edition” that I cannot form into full paragraphs: “How many buttholes is too buttholes.” I do not know what this means, what was I asking, spiritually? It seems to me, now, the answer is clear: two buttholes are too many.
Or maybe it was ill-written and semi-related to this line of thinking:
How many people see a human’s butthole in their life, I wonder. Their lovers, though on average across all humans, it may be more or less lovers, yes, of course, that range is wide, but also more or less butt-centricism. Then you got parents, all the people who cared for you as a baby. Maybe some history with public showers? And any doctors. I am guessing that, roughly, in my life, with my wide-range of care-givers in my childhood, my slightly-more-than-average sex life but average butt-centricism, being in my 50’s and having the doctors renew their interest in my butt, I’m gonna say… 50? people have maybe seen my butthole?
Seems high.
A while back I was thinking about AI and those stupid Google job interviews where they give you dumb-ass questions that you gotta logic through to show them how you would approach the problem, even if you can’t solve it. And for some reason I was thinking about celebrities and buttholes. Not in a pervy way, but more like: is there any reason to believe that, statistically, more humans have seen a celebrity’s butthole than a regular person’s butthole? Like they have change clothes a lot at fashion shoots and whatnot but a) probably not usually down out of their skivvies, and b) even if they did, they probably aren’t, like, bending over and exposing themselves. But then they probably get greater medical attention?
I dunno, man. I bet the difference is not statistically significant. I am willing to bet more people have seen my butthole than, say, Taylor Swift’s butthole.
I am proud to announce that I think we are mostly, at the age of eight years old, done with having to wipe Jane’s butt. She hasn’t let me wipe it in maybe a year now? But occasionally she would still insist that Emma wipe it. It is an oddly intimate experience wiping someone else’s butt. I have never wiped an elderly butt but I suspect it is kinda the same? First few times it is horrific, after a while it is… an exercise in love. Not pervy love, nurturing love.
But I’m still glad I don’t have to do it anymore.
She had a phase about a month ago, when I first started contemplating a scatology edition, where she was running around smacking her butt and our butts and saying “booty cheeks!”
That phase is happily past now.
She has an auntie with whom she talks about poop. In a joking way. Every time she sees her. We were sending said Auntie a lot of postcards for a while this year (a story for another time, as Maz Kanata said and then never delivered), and I swear to god one in ten postcards just said POOP on them.
Wonder what our postman thought.
She still won’t poop anywhere but home, and has strong bathroom preferences at home, though under duress will pretty much use any of them. She still holds them in for absolutely as long as she can.
It is fascinating how much of our childhood is about learning how to manage our bodies and the stuff that comes out of them.
Today’s playlist is about poop. More or less. At least titularly. It actually flows pretty nicely, not gonna lie. I mean, yeah. I did have to resort to putting both parts of !!!’s “Shit Sheisse Merde” on here to round out an hour, or even get close, but they work well. A poop symphony. Awesome track(s). I spared you Part 1 Instrumental.
Right-o. Have today off. Off to recycling and Walmart. Have a great weekend. Gonna do a lot of CHORES this weekend so get ready to be regaled with Chore Tales on Monday.
CHORE TALES.
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Thanks for reading.
And hey! Maybe buy one of my books!
Good Morning, Hello, How Are You vol 1.