The lovely and talented Karla Telega, a writer/humorist that has one of the funniest blogs around, is my Guest Blogger, and I hope she knows how much I appreciate her taking time to help a working girl out.
I know you will enjoy Karla’s brand of fun and frolicking. If you haven’t already visited her blog, Telega Tales and Tart Cookies, please do. You’ll go back again and again.
I'm Only Human
There’s a children’s book called Everyone Poops. We had no such book when I was a child. We had code names for bodily functions, like number one and number two. This was so that the commies (during the cold war) wouldn’t know whether we were tinkling or pooping. Mom thought that if you used the words piss, crap, or fart, civilization as we know it would come to an end.
It was very rare back then for people to have more than one bathroom, so timing was everything. If I said “gotta go” it didn’t mean “Look at the time. I really should be heading home now.” It meant that there would be dire consequences if I didn’t get to the bathroom in the next nano-second.
Passing gas on a road trip was an occasion for silently rolling down the window. Not anymore. Now we talk freely about making wind. True, we blame it on the dog, but we don’t just pretend not to notice. I once went with my son to look for a compressor. I defiled the most hallowed department of Sears, and he moaned that he would never be able to show his face in the hardware section again. Now when I want to push his buttons, I just suggest that we go shop for a hammer.
I’m at the age where my doctor wants me to get regular colonoscopies. First, the stuff they give you to clean you out is an adventure in itself. But when the doctor asked if I wanted to see the pictures, I told him, “No, thanks. I’ll wait for the 3D version.” And you know there’s some idiot out there who will post his colonoscopy on You Tube.
I’m actually glad that society is becoming more enlightened about bodily functions. As my GI tract gets older, bodily functions are becoming increasingly inevitable. Every time a man buys tampons for his sweetie, I want to give him an attaboy. When a woman gives a very unladylike belch, I know that etiquette is evolving nicely. Okay, emissions in elevators are still a taboo, but I have hope for the future.
It will be a sad day for humorists when there is no longer anything remotely funny about potty humor, but I can live with that. Besides, the dog is getting tired of taking the heat.
(The picture is from Amazon.)