Here at DR, we try to maintain some sort of standards and set the bar by remaining classy and sophisticated. Much as we do sometimes share a laugh with you, we like to think that we are above the petty potty mouth toilet humor. That would be insulting to your intellect and what little integrity we may have.

That said, I was in the loo a few weeks ago taking an epic dump. I mean it was mammoth. The type that you expect to get up from and hear a doctor tell you “It’s a boy! It’s a baby boy!” as the midwife dabs sweat of your brow with a shammy cloth. I was making gargoyle faces, throwing up gang signs and speaking in tongues until I finally got exhausted and opted to take the “sit and wait” approach.

Now, NV and I keep our bathrooms decked out with an assortment of fine literature. I opt for having Aaron McGruder Comics, Eric Van Lustbader novels and musicians autobiographies on the shelf. He prefers more traditional reading material on the side table. Magazines and periodicals. As a matter of fact, when the newspaper is delivered at our apartment, it’s slipped through the toilet window and it lands perfectly onto the side table, next to the scented toilet paper.

So it was, that I reached for the latest daily to educate myself in between pushes. I flipped through the pages quickly. Nothing but a bunch of pointless chatter about political implications of planting a tree versus ordaining a judge. Why this was such a big deal was beyond me. Frankly, if I wanted pointless shitty news, I’d read about elaborate bowel movements from some goofball clown blogger(see what I did there? Ironically breaking the 4th wall. My literature professor is so pissed right now….)

But for a fully-fledged media outlet, newspaper and country, really, to shed that much light on who shows up to a voluntary tree planting as though we do not already know the facts is just demeaning. I couldn’t decide if the more educational section of the paper was the Sudoku puzzle or the Horoscopes. I skimmed through the star signs and mine read “Effort shall not be wasted and hard work shall yield great fruit.”

I began to wonder how great this fruit was going to be, and if they meant fruit in a silent plural form. Fear. I guess I would soon find out. I felt my inner organs make way for what had to singlehandedly be the largest dump on this tectonic plate since the dinosaurs roamed here. Somewhere in the Indian Ocean, a Richter Scale picked up a sizable reading and a bunch of Geologists began staring at each other, dumbfounded, going “Kenya? Maybe it’s the Kilimanjaro again.”

Oh, but I tell you it was glorious. I flushed a few extra times as I sang “Barbie Girl” and then washed my hands with that special soap. You know, the one you save for a special occasion. I waltzed out of the room 2 pant sizes smaller and jumped on the couch to watch basketball.

Which is what I’m going to do now. I was just sharing my bathroom experiences with you.

Now back to your regular scheduled programming.

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