Amazing what friends and followers seem to enjoy most on this little blog. After posting the recent blog about POOP, my inbox was flooded with a variety of comments so numerous, both enjoyable, not so enjoyable and to some extent a little on the sick side, I felt like a small child at the candy counter, trying to decide which to pick as my ultimate favorite. Alas, sadly I cannot, but encouragement, support and outright begging for more "shitty stories" have caused a memory overload. So, for the many "sick and deranged" open minded humorous followers and others, who enjoy the pitfalls of everyday life, don't mind sharing, agree every one poops, deals with poop or that of another, including a pet, here is the "poop" scoop!
Florida's coastline has some of the most pristine, white sand beaches anywhere. Surprisingly and unlike the beaches of the northeast, they are not always as crowded and in some cases, thankfully so! Even Floridans agree, the coolness of the winter months, allows the tropical tan to wane. First hints of spring, many head to shore, fighting with the tourists and snowbirds for the perfect spot to sunbath. An acquaintance relays the episode: "Time to bring out the true glow of my Latin skin tone." she recalls. "Armed with lotion, a newly toned body, WHITE swimsuit, my girls and I head to the beach!" After feeling pretty smug about claiming the best spot, she begins her ritual of lathering the skin of her daughters and herself with lotion. Grumblings in the lower gut signal a potential dash to the restroom but........perhaps it will wait. Sitting on the beach blanket, soaking up the warmth of the late winter sun, she feels relaxed, just a bit of lower bowel distress. Perhaps eeking out a bit of gas would relieve the pressure. Sitting in sand, she feels should act as a buffer zone, allowing any noise to be absorbed. Giving it her best shot, she has pleasant results: no noise, no smell and tummy feels much better. Daughters beckons Mom to come to water's edge to observe their antics. As my friend struts her stuff, daughters splashing her with the cool salt water, she squeals with delight. She noticed people staring, their laughter, she assumes, is watching Mom playfully enjoying her young children. It is only as she heads back to her beach blanket with her children, one lagging behind, she truly realizes the meaning of their playful stares. "Mommy, what did you sit in? It looks like poop on your bathing suit!" questions the innocent child. I only have one question for the poor woman, "How did that work out for you?"
Many years back while participating in a road race, a northeastern friend felt the call of nature mid way through the race. Sensing he wouldn't make the pit stop, he opted for a quick dash down an embankment to a nearby riverbed. Realizing the leaf cover would protect him, his thought process being, no paper, he would need a "clean" release of his feces from his anus! Perhaps he would position himself with buttocks heading downhill. Holding on to branches should do the trick. Strategic planning complete, he begins the process. As with all well thought out plans, their is bound to be a snafu. In his case, the branches support his weight gave way. He recalls, rolling ass over band box down the embankment, shorts stuck around his knees. As he landed at river's edge, thankfully, other than numerous scratches and the distinct odor of poop stuck to his bruised body (he had rolled in his own poop), he was okay. As if on cue he removes his shirt soaking it in the river, washing away all evidence of the stinkies. He waved goodbye to the poop stained shirt as it peacefully floated away. Climbing back up the hill, thanking God it was ninety plus degrees, the wet shorts soothing the concealed scratches. As I recall, my friend relaying this story, tears of laughter still rolling down my face.
My sick mind still home to many more poop revelations, in time shall be revealed. It is every one's willingness to share that makes it all the more interesting. Laughter at everyday happenings, especially comfort in knowing they happen to all, is the best medicine for a cloudy Florida day.
Florida's coastline has some of the most pristine, white sand beaches anywhere. Surprisingly and unlike the beaches of the northeast, they are not always as crowded and in some cases, thankfully so! Even Floridans agree, the coolness of the winter months, allows the tropical tan to wane. First hints of spring, many head to shore, fighting with the tourists and snowbirds for the perfect spot to sunbath. An acquaintance relays the episode: "Time to bring out the true glow of my Latin skin tone." she recalls. "Armed with lotion, a newly toned body, WHITE swimsuit, my girls and I head to the beach!" After feeling pretty smug about claiming the best spot, she begins her ritual of lathering the skin of her daughters and herself with lotion. Grumblings in the lower gut signal a potential dash to the restroom but........perhaps it will wait. Sitting on the beach blanket, soaking up the warmth of the late winter sun, she feels relaxed, just a bit of lower bowel distress. Perhaps eeking out a bit of gas would relieve the pressure. Sitting in sand, she feels should act as a buffer zone, allowing any noise to be absorbed. Giving it her best shot, she has pleasant results: no noise, no smell and tummy feels much better. Daughters beckons Mom to come to water's edge to observe their antics. As my friend struts her stuff, daughters splashing her with the cool salt water, she squeals with delight. She noticed people staring, their laughter, she assumes, is watching Mom playfully enjoying her young children. It is only as she heads back to her beach blanket with her children, one lagging behind, she truly realizes the meaning of their playful stares. "Mommy, what did you sit in? It looks like poop on your bathing suit!" questions the innocent child. I only have one question for the poor woman, "How did that work out for you?"
Many years back while participating in a road race, a northeastern friend felt the call of nature mid way through the race. Sensing he wouldn't make the pit stop, he opted for a quick dash down an embankment to a nearby riverbed. Realizing the leaf cover would protect him, his thought process being, no paper, he would need a "clean" release of his feces from his anus! Perhaps he would position himself with buttocks heading downhill. Holding on to branches should do the trick. Strategic planning complete, he begins the process. As with all well thought out plans, their is bound to be a snafu. In his case, the branches support his weight gave way. He recalls, rolling ass over band box down the embankment, shorts stuck around his knees. As he landed at river's edge, thankfully, other than numerous scratches and the distinct odor of poop stuck to his bruised body (he had rolled in his own poop), he was okay. As if on cue he removes his shirt soaking it in the river, washing away all evidence of the stinkies. He waved goodbye to the poop stained shirt as it peacefully floated away. Climbing back up the hill, thanking God it was ninety plus degrees, the wet shorts soothing the concealed scratches. As I recall, my friend relaying this story, tears of laughter still rolling down my face.
My sick mind still home to many more poop revelations, in time shall be revealed. It is every one's willingness to share that makes it all the more interesting. Laughter at everyday happenings, especially comfort in knowing they happen to all, is the best medicine for a cloudy Florida day.
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