Toilet humour

I have come to really, really hate going for a number two. It takes up entirely too much of my time. And I don’t mean each individual occurrence; I mean the fact that it’s a daily event, semi-daily if I’m lucky. It feels like such a waste of time, what’s the point of it going in one end if it has to come out the other? It just interrupts the flow of the day, can happen at any given moment, and a lot of the time there’s nothing you can do about it.

Each visit is like a horrific experience, I feel like a part of me has died and I’m no longer the same person. It just freaks me out to know that everyone does this as well; I don’t need to be aware of this. I don’t need to hear or smell it either. We should all have our own individual commode at least one hundred yards apart that no one else ever need to see, hear, or smell. Let’s treat it as the elephant in the room, we’d all be much happier.

And this is happens to everyone. Everyone. Think about it, an office full of people is just a few inches of flesh away from being a room full of floating turds. People are just walking around with this stuff inside them….

Evolution has failed us in this sense. Why are we producing waste products? Why can’t it all be converted into energy? If only we evolved so that this process is done as far away from our genitals as possible, because they have no business being in such close vicinity. Let’s admit it; if the two areas were kept apart it would be a lot easier to brace ourselves for oral sex knowing we’re well away from the danger zone. The view becomes a lot better, and there are no hidden surprises. We’d be more comfortable about what we’re penetrating as well,  I’m sure homosexuals would find this to be a great time saver if some of that maintenance is no longer required. Anal bleach all you want, we all know what’s going on behind the curtain.

There’s got to be a more convenient way for our body to process this. Maybe if we had a small opening on the end of our big toe where a small amount of waste is discharged, then when we’re done we’d just rub our foot in the ground like we’re stubbing out a cigarette. No fuss, no mess.

The only advantage I see at the moment is that it can be done sitting down, that really takes the pressure off. I love sitting down.

My biggest gripe though is you can’t even control it! If it wants out, its making that escape! No matter what the rest of your body is saying, your asshole has made up its mind. Brain – “But we’re not on the toilet yet!” Asshole – “I don’t care; the defences are breached. We gotta go!” Why does the asshole always get to win this fight?? My brain is not as powerful as my asshole.

Want to know a real, actual, true life story? On more than one occasion whilst at work I made up an excuse to quickly pop home (such as my brother is locked out, or I left my retainer at home), when all I really want to do is go home and take a sh*t. Nothing beats being on home territory.

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