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Tuesday, May 20, 2008

 

reading and pooing, is there anything better?

I can't exactly remember the day I made the wonderful discovery of pooing and reading at the same time, but ever since then I have been a firm believer in the practice. At home, my brother and I have an unordered pile of yellowing sports sections atop our heater from weeks and even months back, just to make sure we have backups in case we need something to read.

If it's not something you've tried before, grab the entire newspaper, bring it into the bathroom with you, and don't leave until you're done reading. You will be amazed at how much poo is actually hidden and trapped inside of your body.

Sometimes after I am done pooing, I will carefully examine my poo and try to estimate exactly how much of my body is actually composed of shit. Sometimes I'll sit on my toilet for hours when I know I can get this percentage really high, and I'll get really proud and want to show someone, explaining, "hey, check me out! I'm made of 25% poo today!" But damn social norms prevent me from doing so. If you ever feel this way, just rationalize it like I do as having a really great magic trick or superpower that will someday save the world, but you must never show anyone out of fear of persecution.

The only problem with my bathroom life is that I have nothing to read at work except for piles upon piles of children's books in my office. The first day I realized this, I debated bringing a computer manual over a children's book since they both seemed so boring. But ever since then, I have realized that children's books nowadays are actually very clever and poignant. If you don't believe me, check out my favorite children's story.

Now I can't go to the bathroom at work without bringing a children's book along. Since they only take a minute to read, I am forced into carrying stacks of them with me into the stall of the men's bathroom. I'm really terrified that people see me lock myself in a stall for hours with a huge stack of children's books and suspect that I'm some kind of pervert, but I'm too embarrassed to tell them that I do actually get a secret wholesome joy from my little books.

I know that people see other people like me and think that they're inexplicably weird, but there is always a reasonable explanation for our actions! Sometimes you just have to look past the stack of books at the person inside. Empathy is a wonderful thing.

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