What’s that you say? You want the latest from the land of Internet dating? Well you know I’m always more than happy to oblige (but not on the first date – hooooo!) So the site I’m on has an instant messaging feature. It’s been useful maybe once or twice but mostly just provides a steady stream of unseemly offers. I logged on the other day to check my messages and was hit with this winner:
Oh xxjumpman87xx, isn’t the indignity of Internet dating enough? Must we also completely strip our interactions of polite chit chat and warm-up banter? I mean, what is there to lose by paying homage to Emily Post? Even if you’re only interested in Making Sexy Times, wouldn’t it at least be nice to have something to talk about while you’re getting dressed afterward?
There’s a lot more to say on that topic, but for now let’s talk poo. Lately I’ve been preoccupied with it. In truth I’m predisposed to this sort of puerile pondering because my parents were relatively strict about the ways my brother and I were allowed to refer to that sort of thing. The end result is that we’re both in our 30s and giggle like Beavis and Butthead any time we hear a pseudonym for poo, with the perfunctory “bowel movement” being the absolute funniest phrase a human being can utter. In fact at a family holiday celebration about 10 years ago, far past a time when either my brother or I had the excuse of youth, my Mom got so frustrated with our poo talk and was so desperate for us to leave the kitchen she blurted out, “Why don’t you go bowel movement on the stairs!” Yes, I’m sorry to say an adult with a Ph.D. was forced to say that to her two adult children, one of whom was in the process of acquiring a college education. Unfortunately it only fueled our methane-fumed fire and now we frequently joke about pooping on stairs.
With that in mind, I hung out with my friend George recently. George owns a house and told me about a block in his sewer line. I’ve never known anyone who had a problem like this, made all the more interesting because it involved poo. The journalist in me had to know every last detail but what I learned has basically derailed my life. Have you ever thought about what happens after you flush? George told me the gist (which may or may not be correct) and it’s my understanding that after a great deal of treatment, that poo and the poo of thousands of others is in our drinking water. Is this true? Did you know about this? How can we be expected to go on under these circumstances? Can someone please shed some light on this terrible topic in the hopes that one day, I’ll be able to sleep again without visions of poo dancing in my head?
P.S. Suddenly it’s occurring to me that my poo leanings and Internet dating plight might not be unrelated. 😉 Thoughts?