Poop & the world poops with you.

Let me start this post where the last one left off, much like the 1st track on Mayhem’s “Grand Declaration of War” starts with the exact same guitar riff that wraps up the last track on their previous EP, “Wolf’s Lair Abyss”.

I shouldn’t be surprised that I’m already logging some potty time, what with all the vegetables & fiber. But one thing that I’ve learned about myself is that when I’m dropping the kids off at the pool, privacy is a beautiful thing. I dunno why…maybe I’m maladjusted or self-conscious or neurotic or whatever, but it really puts a crimp in my style when someone else is moving their bowels less than 3 feet away from me. Seeing their feet brings their presence to the forefront of my awareness & I have to dig deep & focus on the task at hand, or else I’ll spend all day in the damn latrine.

And let me ask you, friends & faithful readers, who in the hell talks on their cellphone while they’re taking a dump?! I can see talking on the phone while you take a leak…AT HOME. In fact, I’ve done it a few times in my younger days when the steady intake of beer dictated several bathroom breaks during the course of a normal telephone conversation. But to be grunting & groaning & befouling the communal air of those around you (apparently when it comes to the courtesy flush I’m the Last of the Mohicans), then to take a call & carry on a conversation…it’s beyond the grasp of my diet-enfeebled mind.

Now, I know I’ve discussed reading on the toilet, but the difference is that reading is a quiet, solitary activity. Unless you’re reading aloud to someone. That’s an idea…I should bring a book to the john @ work & start reading out loud to myself. I’m wrapping up the 1st volume of the complete Sherlock Holmes stories; think that’s too incisive for the men’s room crowd? Might wanna start them off with something a bit more pedestrian, like Grisham’s latest smattering of legal claptrap.