freshly squeezed butt juice

anal seepage can prove be something of a social obstacle, however, humans are in general, successfully able to mask these sorts of medically related personal hygiene issues with a little dab of preparation H and a good pair of leakproof, absorbent pants.*

unlike our furry, four legged brethren, when things are a bit impacted, there is no sphincter hanging out to dry, nor are there rugs, bedding and other upholstery to leave skid tracks on when scratching "that" itch. a common red flag- or brown smear- is catching your pet doing the "butt scoot" across the floor/your lap/the duvet cover. treatment options include a $30 visit to your veterinary paraprofessional (or grooming service) to have the anal glands expressed. a more cost effective solution is to perform a quick browse on your preferred internet search engine, which yields a surprising array of narrative and youtube instructionals, in order to SIY (squeeze it yourself).




*trans; panties. (noun). american.

dehydration during exercise can actually increase performance

clearly, there is some egghead over at NASA who needs to get cracking on the prototype for a pair of athletic incontinence underpants. nike, patagonia, under armour et al. are all ripping holes in our wallets so that we can be suitably kitted out to perform various x-treme and/or athletic pursuits in matching and wicking caps/shirts/shorts/socks.

for a mere $29.99 (plus tax and shipping), skymall will deliver a fruit dehyrdrator to your front door. it is therefore, not inconceivable that many from the swim-bike-run community would be happy to part with their cash, so that they can have moisture wicked away from all the wet and dank creases, while engaging in several hours of uninterrupted activity. savings would be more than made up for in a PR, and none of that pesky pre-race anxiety at the port-a-loos. athletes could drink that third cup of coffee and just head straight out the door, assured in the knowledge that they will not have to look for a dodgy public toilet, or a large copse of trees on sunday's long training day. by the time the swim/bike/run is complete, all that will be left to empty out of your shorts is a hard, dry pebble. 100% chafe-free.

is it a bird, is it a plane...?

there are some things that you just never expect to see; iran's president lighting the hannukah menorah for joseph lieberman; a delta airlines hostess who is genuinely pleased to see you board the aircraft with a guitar case/fussy infant/just your boarding pass; a minivan-sized turd floating across the horizon.

"complex shit" by american artist, paul mccarthy, is an inflatable sculpture that recently became untethered from it's moorings at a swiss gallery, to float through the air- and knock out a greenhouse window- before it landed back on earth.

(that thing would make a great bouncy castle for a birthday party).

fart proof knickers

the question was posed; if a boy farts in the woods, does the fart still smell like decomposing skunk armpit? this led to a series of deeply philosophical inquiries regarding the subjective deconstruction of "smell", value judgements that are subsequently placed on the more noxious ones, and a further exploration into the effects of excess nose hair, and how it potentially impacts the qualitative degree of odour detected; or-- the volume of fart fumes that formulate a level of density such that you can actually begin to chew on them.

while this dialogue proved to be a fascinating distraction from the arduous task of trundling down to the break room for coffee, the quest for a solution to the ultimate in flatulence faux pas proved to be infinitely more effective than caffeine at stimulating synapses for the day. the option of vaccuum sealed underwear, using non-porous materials, and elasticated waist/leg bands to trap random gas, was dismissed by virtue of the 'whoopee cushion' factor-- these can only be recommended for novices and activities/occupations involving a lot of standing (her royal highness could probably get a nice bulk discount on them for the guards at buckingham palace), with a cautionary disclaimer about using them for your "sunday best", given all of the stand up/sit down involved with wooden pews.

a new, technologically advanced "super knicker" would be designed specifically for the kinds of situations necessitating 'quick and sudden movement'; stadium events requiring you to do the "wave" more times than actual touchdowns are ever scored, or the paperwork clip board relay while waiting at the gynecologist's office. farts could be freely expelled through a "bi-focal" equivalent in your knickers, via individually scented filters that are inserted into centralized pockets just above the gusset; trapping, neutralizing, and dispersing the foul stench of your breakfast burrito. like febreeze and glade plug-ins, they would be available in lavender, white linen or a line of yankee candle's butterscotch cream. filters can then be purchased in weekly/monthly disposable re-fills, or for the more eco-friendly; machine washable that comes with a non-aerosol spray. the bonus marketing feature is obviously the dri-fit padded fibres that buffer embarrassing noises and offer additional absorbency for individuals with atrophied sphincter muscles.

the "scotch tape test" for itchy bums

pollen allergies have a designated season. it would appear that the residential house i supervise is also on a bi-annual (fungal) schedule; we have ringworm-- again. at the time of typing i have not exhibited any of the symptoms, but this is probably because i have been more pre-occupied with harvesting the deep craters left by some ticks after a mountain bike ride a few weeks ago.

as we are all on ringworm hyper-alert, there is much ruling out of other afflictions, such as pinworm. for those of you not yet in possession of children- or cant remember being one with a persistently itchy bottom- pinworms are quite the fascinating little blighters, as long as they are not taking up residence in your colon. they begin their brief, but unremitting, life cycle in the intestines- which serves as the honeymoon suite for copulating pinworms. coitus, apparently proves all too much for the male, who promptly kicks the bucket, while his expectant paramour heads south to nestle in the grooves of your sphincter and deposit around 20,000 eggs for you to host for a mere 45 days. upon maturation, the post-adolescent critters come out for a spot of "fresh air", however this only occurs at night, as even pinworms are subject to circadian rhythms.

fortunately, the diagnosis is simple and does not require any overpriced merchandise from walgreens.

materials:
torch (low wattage is sufficient)
sello-tape (3M has better adhesive, although you can go with whatever's on sale as long as it's not double sided)

directions:
~ after the sun has gone down, remove your knickers- relatively easy, as most of us with good hygiene practices, or some semblance of a love life, are familiar with this ritual.
~ shine a light at your bum hole and apply a piece of tape to the area- sadly, more people than you would think are all too familiar with this ritual, more than the aforementioned one.
~ remove the tape- fast or slow, depending on your personal preference (remember to check for haemherroids beforehand so as to avoid unecessary mess), and any pinworm egg larvae will be affixed to the tape for your viewing pleasure.
~ now you can call your doctor with complete authority, and confidently request an appointment to "show and tell" your harvest while procuring a prescription for a bottle of overpriced medication.

here's the good news for the antibacterial hand sanitizing brigade: pinworm is transmitted by and through; nailbiting, handshaking, door knobs, toilet seats, phone receivers, keyboards, kitchen counters, desk surfaces, supermarket trolley handles, bedding, towels, clothing, toilets, glasses, bathroom fixtures, toys, sand boxes and food. what a relief to know that pinworm doesn't cause any damage to the body-- aside from chronic sleeplessness associated with nocturnal anal itching.

pret a porter: colostomy bags

fortunately, i have no need for one of these medical accessories, and subsequently, know very little about them. however, because i am always interested in expanding my trivial pursuit options under the category "fecal family"; google + lunch table = another blog about poo.

unfortunately the lunch table were not particularly helpful in supplementing my scant knowledge of the subject. as evidenced by one colleague assuming that colostomy bags were hooked onto IV drip poles, to then be dragged around like a toy poodle. and while gravity would certainly be a friend of diarrhea in this scenario, constipation and an elevated catheter could prove both uncomfortable and messy. matte would obviously be recommended over an opaque bag, but the visibility of an IV rigged colostomy is an untapped market for design geeks, staring at their mac's, somewhere in southeast asia.

internet research identified two main varieties that are available for consumers; a more contemporary model, featuring a wax seal, versus the traditional 'belt and bag'. for those not willing to go the ebay route, bags typically retail between $5 and $40-- the difference between a "jansport" and a ballistic, neoprene, and moisture wicking "north face" version. alternative prototypes might feature nike's swoosh logo (an ever present reminder of the task at hand) and plenty of sponsorship at ironman events; louis vuitton and coach to co-ordinate and accessorize for long haul travel; a simple CK to match the never-to-be-soiled undies; and ikea's edition would come flatpacked, in cherry, ash, or black (matte). wikipedia also reported that flatulence exits the same way as solid waste, making bag changing a doubly intense experience. this does present a nice opportunity for an accompanying line of personal colostomy cologne.

marketing would be simple (and exclusive to skymall). never again would you have to climb over someone's lap on an aeroplane. "window seat every time? don't want to sit in the middle (of 5) for the 6 hour plus voyage across the atlantic? no problem, i'll switch my exit row aisle with you: i'm packing the colostomy 2000".

http://www.poopreport.com/ (you know you want to).

the anal stage

apparently i never left this freudian phase of development...



i blame it on my parents.

toilet seat covers

i am not a fan of the toilet seat cover, and not the ruffly pink kind that everyone's grandmother has to match the bathmat. they seem like a lot of effort for a quick pee (note: seat covers are generally found only in public toilets, and i would rather risk an obstruction than take an actual poo in a non-residential loo). i know that there are many like-minded bladders out there, who also refuse to "bury a quaker" in a public stall. so who then, are these people that take the time at a restaurant, bar, or airport departure terminal to go through the ritual of removing one from the box, tucking it in place, and then hunkering down for just a quick pee?

i have obviously never used a seat cover for the aforementioned reasons. however, the tactile-sensory issue of having wax proof baking parchment while at the petrol station, or motion sensored shrink wrap at o'hare, clinging to and crackling beneath my cheeks would not induce urethral relaxation. no more than taking a "sit" with damp thighs, after a shower does.

besides, from all this marathon training, the "squat 'n hover" maneuver is simply effortless for my quads of steel.

scatology

stamp collectors, train spotters, and thimble enthuthiasts; all of them have a peculiar, but dogged fascination with their own personal "muse". while i do not harbour secret stashes in rubbermaid boxes under the bed, i have acquired a lot of poo paraphernalia (in the form of books, remote controlled fart machine, fart pots, plastic turds et al.). i am fortunate enough to be able to develop and explore my interests (and get paid hourly for it) during the work day. considering 95% of the population on my unit, at work, is under 5 years old, i have an opportunity to talk about poo every day if i choose.

(i choose).

yesterday, i spent over an hour watching and encouraging (i squatted, grunted, and made fart sounds) a 5 year old (with some significant developmental and expressive language/communication delays) dance around, and dip his toes and/or hands into the toilet, without ever actually depositing the graham crackers/tinned peaches/sloppy joe/lemon cake he had consumed several hours prior. he has not yet made the abstraction that a large (ish) hole filled with water is a place to relinquish control of one's sphincter. put him in some pull ups however, and packs of pavlov's dogs are taking dumps to the grunts this child issues forth.

still no turd in the toilet.

so....i changed my first nappy

no, my curry eating compulsion has not resulted in explosive episodes of the lower extremities, nor have i birthed a little one, and my parents are not yet at the age where they are wearing super absorbent adult undies with leak proof elasticated edges. oh, and i am mostly definitely not in posession of a needy boyfriend that requires his bum wiping/food chewed, although i am quite accomplished at both of these skills. rather, i was initiated into nappy changing 101 ("diapers" for those west of the atlantic) at work.

it was a boy! i should get bonus points for the 'pee in face/up your nose' hazard. for the resident counselor who was "supervising" my technique, i provided about 3 minutes of low quality entertainment just negotiating the little sticky tabs that hold everything together (and in). short of using a hand held packaging tape dispenser, there was no way this little dude was going to be 'vacuum sealed' into the low slung, hipster style nappy silhouette that i was constructing. i do think that this is an untapped market that GAP/abercrombie should get in on.

to continue with the theme of expelled bodily fluids; i also fed (and sniffed), (ok huffed, im a self-confessed baby huffer) a 2 month old. after i had helped him fill his belly, he changed his mind and decided that it was in fact preferable that he empty the contents of his tiny body: all. down. my. cleavage. (with an added trickling feature). i was born again and baptized with baby barf. praise the puke. unfortunately, 'little guy' had also been running a temperature off and on for the past week, so the nurse decided we needed to "draw blood and run some tests" (translation on either side of the atlantic: "oh shit, this is going to really hurt. and i might cry in front of another grown up that i'm not even related to or sleeping with"). unfortunately for him, it meant a needle being inserted into the bottom of his foot. unfortunately for me, it meant holding him close enough to achieve optimal screaming 'his mouth to my eardrum' range (probably good that i couldnt see what was going on over the other side of his heaving body). before the nurse even got the needle out, or had warmed up his foot to locate a vein, i was in need of holding. this was going to hurt; bad. and he didnt have any four letter words at his disposal to express how much he hated us for doing this to him.

i can see that childbirth is obviously not going to be all cupcakes and butterflies.

number one, two or three?

it has already been established that i pee in the shower. it amazes me how many people dont (or at least deny it in polite company, and i do not ask when in polite company). no one over the age of eighteen months will admit to # 2 in the shower. one person (male) admitted to # 3 in the shower.

???

a show of hairy hands went up.

(oh).

poo

i cannot poo on the plane. i can poo and talk on the phone/work on my laptop. i do not like to carry toilet paper/be seen with it in my trolley at the supermarket. my brother and i used to put on puppet shows for each other with out stuffed animals while we were pooing. i can pee in the shower, but i will not poo in the shower- you have to draw the line somewhere.