Category Archives: bowel movement

The Adventures of Mr. Poop


shitler and i have introduced a new toy into the lives of the dingos and i’ve got to be honest – i think i’m more excited than the dingos actually are.

i might spotlight the new addition.  i’m betting that he gets himself into all sort of shennigans.

mr. poop

look at that frown…  ha!  
and that fucking creep in the background.  

this is too much. 

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This Has Next to Nothing to Do With the Holidays.


ahhh the holidays.  a few thoughts come to mind: stressed, drunk, broke, exhausted, etc.

like most people, Lincoln and i have to cram 37 x-mas’ into two days. 

it’s always a treat. 

here’s some photos that capture my xmas eve:

phase 1 of the destruction of my kitchen is complete.

motherfucking mini cheesecakes

packaging my delicious treats.

mah balls.

color shot of mah balls.

suspicious dog.

slightly more normal dog.

i got you some pussy for xmas.

these are my brother's grades. i find one class to be the oddest.

 also, i took a shit this morning.

it’s an xmas miracle.

Morning Constitutional, Etc.


everyone shits.

if you’re someone like Lincoln, you shit more than the average person.  sometimes you shit while still trying to ingest whatever it is that you’re eating (also Lincoln, and in his case it’s usually Taco Bell). 

everyone has their routines when they shit.  some take their phones into the bathrooom with them (don’t you dare try to deny it).  some people prefer a magazine.  Lincoln has a book of crossword puzzles he tackles (which is good for him, because it’s chock full of them and since he shits about 7 times a day, it keeps him occupied).

frankly, when i’m in the bathroom, whether it’s 1 or 2 – i just prefer to be alone.  but that is utterly impossible in my house.  between Lincoln barging in and the obsessive animals – it’s like a goddamn party in the bathroom.

it never fails that mac will barge in if you do not close the door to the bathroom and make sure that it latches properly.  the cat will yowl at the door to be let in or sneak in when you don’t realize it and occupy himself in the bathtub.  murphy usually supervises.

this isn't weird or anything, is it? you don't mind if i just stare at you?

i'm a stupid cat.

i'm watching you.

the thought of me having children is utterly terrifying, but the fur babies in my home make it seem like i’m already a weird type of mother.  all three of them follow me everywhere and they’re constantly underfoot.  the cat isn’t a big deal.  but when two 50+ pound dogs need to be as close to you as possible – it gets a tad annoying.

 i haven’t even #2’d yet this AM.  i’m sitting in bed while Lincoln slumbers next to me.  my food porn is on and i have a coffee in hand (so #2 shouldn’t be too far off). 

i realize this post has been about nothing.  and murphy just belched while laying next to me.

consider this a teaser – but my next post will be about a killer movie called “Yeti.”

Textual Feeling: C is Not For Cookie, it’s For Constipation


i like to keep B in the loop when weird things are happening to me.

me: this diet has made me constipated.

B: i could have told you that would happen.

me: it’s ok though.  i’m drinking some sort of all-natural laxative tea.  it’s called Smooth Move.

B: fitting.

me: i thought so.

but seriously, i was constipated.  until the tea fixed everything.  it tasted delicious too.  now i feel like i could take on the world.

this isn’t a plug or anything.  i just thought those in similar situations to mine could utilize the shit tea.

the shit tea in all its glory

i also looked up the website for it.  and there’s a video.  and the doctor that’s always on Oprah is talking about it.  so you know it has to be legit.  but i didn’t watch the video, so there’s a 50% chance that doctor is telling the world the shit tea could kill you.  but then i doubt the shit tea people would put that video on their website.

whatever.

Thyroid Disease Is The New Black


It’s quite possible that I have the world’s worst insurance.  And if you say, “well, having insurance is better than no insurance,” I’ll choke you.  But that’s neither here, nor there.  Due to some recent medical issues, I was forced to go back to the doctor.  Womanly shit.  Since I can’t afford for them to run the whole gamut of tests, I had them test me for things that they were pretty sure I could have.  Those being; anemia and thyroid disease.  Negative on the anemia.  Just waiting to hear on the thyroid.  I don’t know shit about thyroid disease so I’ve spent a majority of my morning on WebMD scaring the crap out of myself.

Here’s a few symtoms.  And I’m just meshing all the different types of thyroid disease symptoms together:

  • More frequent bowel movements, sometimes with diarrhea
  • Muscle weakness, trembling hands
  • Lethargy, slower mental processes or depression
  • Development of a goiter
  • Constipation, heavy menstrual periods or dry skin and hair
  • Weight loss despite increased appetite

Naturally, I told my best cronie in the whole world and we WebMd’d together.  Our conversation is below:

N: You have an excuse for everything now.  “Can you answer that call?” “Nope, sorry, my thyroid is acting up.  You should get me a pizza.”

Me: I’m using that from now on.

N: And you can use, “I’m sorry, I don’t understand your question, I have thyroid’s disease.”

Me: This thyroid thing is the gift that keeps on giving.

N: But seriously, I hope you don’t have it.  What did Lincoln have to say about all of it?

Me: He’s just glad I’m not dying.

N: I’m glad he’s glad that you’re not dying.

Me: Me too.

N: Otherwise it would have been an awkward weekend for us all.

I never said we were normal.

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