Evolution of a Peaceful Poop
Thursday, April 1, 2010 at 7:48AM Oh how I used to love the man-throne. I loved the comfort of slamming my pants down to the ground, situating my overly white-ass on the porcelain and just knowing for the next 10 minutes (give or take an hour) I was gonna be free of any/all responsibilities, chores, conversations…you name it.
When I was a teenager I was a huge fanatic of dipping (yeah, the sexy tobacco habit where you tuck some Copenhagen awesomeness in your lower lip) and of Mario on Game Boy. I’d sit in the bathroom for close to an hour, dipping and playing Mario.
Oh…I definitely didn’t have to poop…I was just camped out avoiding reality and enjoying every damn minute.
Then came college where the toilet was the only place you had enough time to knock out a solo masturbatory quickie. You sure as hell couldn’t do it with the roommate in the room. Showers were a free-for-all for pranks. If you made it through an entire shower without getting cold water dumped on you, attacked by garbage, or your hot water being cut off…well you were the man. Obviously the showers were no place to try and “take care of business.”
So the shitter became the go-to place to knock one out.
Then you get married…and there’s the first few awkward times where you know you’re about to peel some paint off the walls with colon fumes, but you just can’t do it while the new lady-friend was in the house.
The wifey never had that problem. I remember one of the first nights we first lived together I was walking towards the bathroom to pee and there she was, door open, perched on her throne, reading a magazine, relaxed as hell, and all “I’ll be done in a few more minutes. Can you wait?” like it was nothing. A part of me died that day.
Then we had kids. And I swore, I’d never share a bathroom with my kids. And for a while I didn’t have to…till we moved to the urban life that is Chi-Town. Three bedroom house, one bathroom…and that one bathroom has no lock on the door.
It’s inevitable—whenever I need to do my business, a small, embedded microchip goes off in the kids’ brains and bladders and says “hey little bastards listen…I know you’re all watching SpongeBob and having a good time and stuff, but your dad’s on the shitter. We’re moving into Code Brown mode now kids…get up, go pound that bathroom door like you mean it and make your old man cry!”
I’ll stand at the top of the stairs, “anyone need to use the bathroom.”
“Nope – I’m good dad,” the boy will scream.
“Nnnnooooo!!!,” the daughter will echo.
Two minutes later…at least one of them is doing the “pee pee dance” outside the bathroom door explaining how they’re about to pee themselves and everything within a 10 foot radius.
By the time I’m able to enjoy the solitude of the porcelain gods again I’m pretty damn confident it still won’t be on my own. It’ll be my wife having to lift me, place me on the toilet, then stand their disgustedly tapping her foot and asking “are you done yet?”
And I’ll do my doody duty and remember back to when I was a young buck and hearing her mutter the words “are you done yet?” was for an entirely different reason.
Reader Comments (15)
Excellent! My kids have that same chip! hahaha
This is the funniest thing I've read all week, and so true! Great post!
At least you'll be ready for public shitting when you're in prison. Let's not pretend you won't be arrested for something someday.
Great post my friend. It brought chunks in my throat and a smile to my face. :)
I feel your pain. I did my own poop post this week. http://www.mommyisdating.com/?p=247 We are similarly bathroom challenged. My kids like to assess the odeur as though they're analyzing the bouquet of a fine wine: "I get beef jerky, refried beans and a hint of coffee."
I almost cried when I read this, though, for the disparity in our ages. When I was a teenager, the Walkman hadn't even been invented yet. However, we have some things in common: I used to come home from school and sit on the throne until I had a ring around my ass reading the dictionary or the "big book," neither of which, due to the internet and a change of heart, respectively, can be found in my house today.
Whatever "Lady Of The House" said. I can't even follow that kind of awesome comment.
Very funny and so true. I swear, every time my butt hits the toilet, within ten seconds one of my kids is pounding on the door telling me they have to go. They seem to be born with this internal radar that beeps whenever the chance to make us batty occurs. The second I put the phone to my ear and say hello, children who have ignored me for the last hour suddenly MUST ask me something right now!! The army could use this technology
I feel so sorry for you man. We've got three bathrooms in our hose and there's just me the wife and the baby. Sometimes I switch it up using the spare bathrooms cause I want a change in scenery. We will be glad to ship off one of our bathrooms to you but one is reserved for pisses, anther for poops, and the other for "business". I know this is gloating
We are just now potty training daughter #1, and I know we will regret this action. Hubby is going to have a tough life LOL. Two daughters, a wife and only one bathroom.
Dude, I would give anything to poop in piece. * sigh *
GREAT PIC OF YOUR WIFE!! HAHAHHAHAHAHAHA!!!
You need more fiber in your diet.
the toilet manufacturer American Standard has a model called Duty. that is worth tons of when duty calls tweets
I have 4 brothers. (and a sister, but she's a bitch so we'll just include her in the "count") - we grew up with one bathroom. Mornings were INSANE. Showers. Teeth brushing. Peeing. Pooping. Door opening and closing frequently. 5 go in, 2 come out. Suffice it to say - I have no problem pooping anywhere. Which prepared me for children - who now? Love to come in and chat with me. Or kiss my leg (yes, while i'm crapping). Or take pictures of me with my phone (because obvs I have the phone in there).
I'm just hoping they make enough money to pay for their own therapy.
Since Drama Queen turned 12 she likes to regale me with tales of how nasty her "crap" is going to be. She enjoys coming downstairs to my bathroom to defile my throne. "Oh no", I tell her. F up your own bathroom!!!!
I have distinct memories of my dad being in the bathroom for what seemed like HOURS when I was growing up. Now I understand why...
I took my first loan when I was 20 and that helped my business very much. However, I require the bank loan also.