Tag Archives: people

Confessions About Poop, A Very Mature Post

Usually, pooping is untold relief. Sometimes pooping is absolutely dreadful. It may be that morning after a night of drinking. It may be coming home after eating Hooter’s hot wings. It may be the absolute worst one…post baby delivery first poop or as I like to call it third birth.

stinkyface

Actually, this guy has a scratch and sniff picture of Ke$ha

So I comprised a list of the most dreadful poops in life:

The New Relationship Poop at the House.

There's something I've got to tell you...maybe show you if it's impressive enough

There’s something I’ve got to tell you…maybe show you if it’s impressive enough

Despite the obvious truth, everybody poops, it’s really difficult to let a new partner know this. When you progressively spend more time together you inevitably spend enough time for the digestive system to need evacuation. That first time you are at their house and you go to the restroom, it’s terrifying. I personally get anxiety, and don’t want to admit to myself what is about to happen. It’s time to take things to the next level. I go ahead and embarrass myself by announcing, the impending deuce I’m about to drop. Because by not telling and letting said person go in the restroom directly after me only to smell what the Rock is cooking is horrible. Much more embarrassing.  So I usually say, “Um, don’t go in that bathroom, give it like five to ten…just sayin’…love that shirt…look a unicorn on TV!” However, once that initial earth shattering monumental step has been taken, it’s over forever and pretty soon your opening the door while your duking just to say what a stupid bitch Jill at work is and her new haircut looks like she was infested with lice while in an eighteenth century British prison…fuck her.

Public Poop

I think she has to poop too, so the problem cancels out autonomously

I think she has to poop too, so the problem cancels out autonomously

Pooping in public is intimidating and scary. The private bathrooms offer some solace. The chances of the person following behind you in a one person restroom being someone you know aren’t very likely, there being like billions of people on the planet. However even strangers are troublesome in a multiple stall restroom. They walk in, and they know that your pair of feet is the cause for the hearty aroma. They know you had to poop and couldn’t finish shopping at Micheal’s, you had to put aside the glitter, yarn and beads to go work on a new project. Now, if I’m finished, I’m too ashamed to come out if it was indeed me that was pooping. I’ll wait the other person out, thinking, come on, how long are you going to stand in here? However if I’m done and the restroom is empty, I have no problems with someone walking in. It’s a crime with no perpetrator then. See, anyone else could have left that phantom poop. It’s not always the person applying lip gloss at the mirror. I’m not caught at the scene of the crime, now I’m just and accessory after the fact. Or maybe I think this because I don’t readily accuse the person still in the restroom. That’s unfair. The suspect could have fled minutes ago. Either way, I try to make it home.

I am ashamed of nothing.

I am ashamed of nothing.

Well, those two scenarios are probably the worst I can think of. Sometimes I ask God if he’s real, then ask if he’s listening, then I just ask him why do we poop and why did I drink so much coffee? I don’t really get answer, and I don’t forget to courtesy flush.

How I Reached for the Stars

Today I want to discuss jobs. I have switched careers and now I work as a nurse.

“I think you’ve got a fever, I’ll need to check that…rectally”

It may surprise you, the faithful Facehookin’ reader, to know that I worked in both the state prison and county jail as none other than a correctional officer before going to nursing school.

“It’s time for your visit, and by that I mean conjugal, and by that I mean sex…I’m not so good at this.”

So you may ask how one would make such a leap from one career field to the other? Well, simply because I can’t be an LOL cat.

Because I’m a fucking human.

I’m grateful everyday I pay my student loan because I love being a nurse. I had my son and decided it was time for a career I wanted to be in for the duration of my working years.

Now you may ask if it was difficult to deal with inmates? No, actually they weren’t usually all that bad. I mean, you just expected some of them to be assholes and some were, no big deal.

Most accurate representation of a correctional facility

However even sporatically dealing with drunks, and crazed idiots on bath salts might have made the place less desirable to work than say, waking in a bathtub full of ice and a note saying one of your kidneys was stolen. So what was something I dreaded more than all of it?

Working  with “Old heads” and Delusions of Grandeur

Okay, so I think at a lot of jobs people that stay at the same place of employment like to brag that they spent overwhelming majority of their adult life there.

“Never free, Never me, So I dub thee unforgiven…”

Which is fine, but these people always wanted to say one name in particular to raise some consequentially impressed eyebrows. Fate Thomas. Fate….Goddamn…..Thomas. Get it? Got it? Good. You better or a fiery vengeance will be wrought upon you and your posterity.  This dude, besides admittedly having a pretty cool name, was the sheriff…um, like a long time ago. Thus being present for the Fate Thomas era made all hearing aware that said employee has been with the agency for decades. There have been other sheriffs, but none with names that command attention, respect, fire. So in service training was two grueling days of classes like;  sexual harassment, workplace safety, mental health, first aide, CPR and the list goes on.

It never failed that at some point during classes some decrepit old bastard would interject, “Back in the Fate Thomas days…” Then some elaborate story would ensue about how county jail thirty years ago was a post apocalyptic battlefield and the inmates were half breed human gorillas capable of murder, murder everywhere. The officers it seems were all….um…

This bad ass….

This bad ass….

Yes. I’m serious.

According to these guys, there were fights and riots. Riots and then fights, um death, fights, riots, riots and fights. And fire. And Fate “Son of a Bitch” Thomas. Every day. These war stories took up time that the instructor needed to tell us not to sexually harass each other anymore and how to perform CPR. Not the Fate Thomas way, which was immediate setting fire to said inmate for dying during a riot.

The man, the legend, Fate…

Actually working with these guys was pretty bad, for one, the had to remind you every day that they were there longer than you have been alive. They had to tell you resolutions to problems that might have been acceptable in the 70’s, you know, like let’s disco all night. Well, maybe not that but, they never really had a current or relevant solution. Only stories, epic stories, comparable to those told by Homer.

Perhaps other reasons I’d rather not use this venue to expound on why that particular place wasn’t my cup of tea. I will say some pretty incredible supervisory titles materialized over the years…

Vice President Chief…Seventh Level Dragon Master…

I always wished Fate would become wrathful with the lack of violence withing the facilities and bring about his powerful spiritual vengeance and then salt the earth…only to fly into the sun and burst, spreading his incredible ashes among us. Or maybe just give me a make-believe position of power.

Khaki Crazy Debauchery

I have mentioned before that my laptop had a rendezvous with death. I’m not much of a computer person but I think the fact that it won’t start-up is a good indication that it’s done for. Yes, it was plugged in…Yes, I turned on the “on” button. So instead of abandoning the blog I’ve come to love, I use my phone or I go to the library which makes me feel better about paying taxes. Not only am I using the internet but I’m surrounded by hotties. I’m not sure why, but the only other people who use the public library computers have a “skullet”. 

image

You and me should study some anatomy together.

Speaking of computers. I admire that people know like, a whole lot about them. In my mind the inside is a dated 3-D animation of grids and cubes. Not unlike a Trapper Keeper.

image

Pictured: the motherboard

I never really took a strong interest in computers and therefore am perpetually asking, “What the hell does that mean?” This put’s I.T. people in the “wizard” category, which includes; mechanics, mathematicians, and women who make kid clothes on Pintrest.

image

mechanic poop

This last weekend I’m pretty sure I saw the most wild I.T. department party since the beating of the fax machine on Office Space.

image

And so it begins

I witnessed this at bar with some karaoke. It’s been a while. So there was a group of guys, about five of them, in matching plaid shirts and khaki pants. I’m pretty sure they finished updating a huge company’s database and decided to loosen up a bit. You know just some good times with the bros.

image

It was a long day fixing adorable problems

So these guys start drinking and singing. I mean that’s typical of a karaoke bar right? Yes of course. Well, they drink a lot. They start laughing hysterically, they start yelling, they start…holding hands and dancing in a cirlce? Yes. One lays on the table and another one stands in the chair. There was a lot of stumbling and or dancing to Poison. There happened to be a literal game of grab ass too.

Their antics continue until the slapping starts. Yes, they are slapping each other in the face and then hugging, then kissing each others cheeks. The night just got very confusing. I’m not sure if these guys are going to fight or fuck or both. Either way there is going to be debate over whose chinos are whose in the morning.

image

Dude, dude the boss just asked for that file and I sent a pic of my junk!

They left the bar walking arm around shoulder in a line kind of deal. Everyone inside was like, “What the hell was wrong with those I.T. guys?”. I suppose it’s not right to assume they were, but come on they were.

Au Revoir Apartments…Smell Ya Later

My lease is up at my apartments, and I’m planning a more economic friendly move to another apartment with a roomate. It’s tough for single gals and I for one would sure like financial stability as well as the company. This move is bittersweet, while I often complain on Facebook about my apartments, I’m still going to miss what I’ve called home for a few years. I’m also going to miss my neighbors, no, not in the way you think. I don’t think I’ve talked extensively to any of them but I’ve observed them from afar on a level of certain creepiness. So, who will I miss?

The Denim Clad Bludgeoner

Perhaps I’m jumping to conclusions here, but the guy who lives across from me is in the business of death, sudden violent death to transients and hookers. He leaves early in the morning while the dew is still on the grass, because he travels to commit his heinous acts. Dressed in a demin shirt, demin shorts (jorts) and brown boots topped off with a khaki hat he leaves, taking a long wooden walking staff (ready for spontaneous murder). He gets into his inconspicuous white jeep and gives me a friendly nod as he drives away. He’s gone for several days. I know this because when our apartment management leaves memos stuffed in our doors his will remain in place for 3 to 4 days. Meaning, it would have to be removed if he came into his apartment. However he’s home when they do inspection and he leaves notes for them not to spray his apartment with insecticide. I don’t believe this is a worry about chemicals, no sir, it’s because he has clippings about the place celebrating his crimes. Duh. All killers do this. Which is really outdated and not very green. One could easily just save a zip file on their PC labeled “My Insatiable Lust for Blood”. I also believe this because he left his blinds open and I peeked through, there were newspapers everywhere (no I’m not weird!). He doesn’t want pest control to walk around spraying that watered down Mello Yello they call insecticide and discover the missing teens from Branson MS met their fate at the hands of a blue jean loving assassin. He’s nice enough but his eyes sing a song of murder to me, “I want to dismember you, fa la la la la la”.
image

Tankerbell’s Mommy

I don’t know this lady’s name either but I know her godforsaken dog’s name; Tinkerbell but pronounced “Tankerbell”. This lady is at the very least 400 hundred pounds and she  yells at her chihuahua while walking around barefoot all day. Seriously it’s like president Taft walking around in a house dress. She’s always saying, “Tankerbell, hush up quit barkin’ git in tha house!” These apartments are pretty small and she lives with her significant other, another woman, and some kids but there’s a like several and I can’t discern which one’s actually live there or just like show up. Nonetheless that’s a lot of people for one place and at night their shades are open…yes I look in and there are sheets the partition the living room. It’s like a Hooverville in there. There’s another dog too but it never gets yelled at because Tankerbell is the one that never shuts up. This dog has like a hernia or hemorrhoids because it’s butthole looks like it was pulled out, kind of like a Sonic straw. I can say right now I don’t envy that dog.

image

Tankerbell! where are you?

The Office Depot Adonis

This guy I often see getting into his yellow Mustang going to do whatever beautiful people go do all day. I’ll assume float on clouds. He works at Office Depot which I discovered by happenstance and not by being a stalker (this time). I went to make prints of my artwork and he was there, we talked about apartments and how much they suck, and well what do you know! He’s int he building next to me. I figured out that he was actually the well muscled hulk of lustful thoughts that jumps rope and jogs around the complex. He drips sweat that could bring flowers back to life.  He’s the guy I for serious, almost wrecked into a dumpster watching warm-up with some high knees. Did you know movies do not edit beautiful people in slow motion? Beautiful people effect the time space continuum and their movements actually slow down so the world has some semblance of order while they are around. I fumbled over words like an idiot, and forgot what I was talking about mid-sentence. Yeah, THAT beautiful. Now I can’t just walk into Office Depot without feeling like an awkward school girl or stalker-like. I would like to look into his window.

Gandalf the Grey

There’s an elderly lady who leaves her apartment several times a day to go to the mailbox or kind of stand on the sidewalk and stare contemplatively into the horizon. Firstly, I want to know what kind of US Postal Service does she think she has to go to the mailbox more than once? Secondly, I think she goes outside to steal the joyful noise of the nearby songbirds. She has her name because she wears a grey sweat suit ALWAYS and has matching grey hair. Thus, Gandalf the Grey, plus when you get that old you have magic powers. Maybe her mobility has far exceeded her cognitive ability and she is slipping slowly into the world of dementia. A small part of me fills with fantastical terror when I wave and say “Hi” but she only glares at me with contempt. I can’t say what her apartment looks like because it’s on the second floor and that presents a challenge of sorts. I’m going to say full of razors and Halloween candy. Her plan only foiled by the fact that old people hand out that caramel candy kids hate and never eat.

image

I'm going back upstairs to wait for the third mail delivery today.

Facking Cool Guy

The northern guy who has several bad tattoes including the black panther of shame and the tribal arm band. He “DJ’s” um, nowhere. He cuts the sleeves of his shirts because all fellas know this creates an optical illusion of muscle. He hits on EVERY woman at the pool maybe even some dudes with bitch tits. He wears sandals and has gross feet.

Hot For Teacher

This woman is the 80’s and honestly I love her. She has the leathery brown tan skin, bleach blonde hair, neon clothes made of mesh net, sunglasses ALWAYS, and a convertible. She can always be found at the pool when its open baking herself in the sun slathered in baby oil, seriously, listening to Poison on her boombox.

I however will not be missed by anyone because I’m that weird fucking girl who looks through windows, stares at everyone, and can’t drive very well in the parking lot. Changes…

Shut Your Pie Hole: Part Three

I’ve written before about conversational faux pas, not once, but twice before. Well, it’s always fun to revisit my favorite subject; people being assholes all day everyday.

Well I’ve gathered some more violations that coincidentally render me full of overwhelming desire to whirl my arms in a windmill action and run straight forward into the person talking.

3. Being a condescending arrogant fuckface about uncommon knowledge.
image

Everyone has a hobby or interest and with that carries a superior knowledge pertaining to that particular subject. Perhaps they are a “specialist” in the area.

For example you have someone who’s really into a specific music genre. They are absolute snobs about specific varieties because just enjoying music that you like is absurd. This can relate to the inability to acknowledge legitimate talent to a “sell-out” music group. No one is less discriminating in taste because they don’t know about the all transsexual (and one bear) jazz fusion group from Iceland you post You Tube videos about on Facebook all fucking day. Furthermore, no one purposefully clicks those links and when they do they say “Uh! Damn you touch screen! Go back!” However this is the same type of person who is an absolute snob about you saying, “Oh hey, so I downloaded The Black Key’s new album and it’s so good.” They in turn have to dramatically roll their eyes and make face just to say, “They became SO commercial, I can’t believe you listen to that.” They manage to alienate themselves as much as their music alienates itself because you, know, most people don’t like it. Ha.

My senior year English teacher was arrogant prick about all things grammar. It was like he was flabbergasted he had to teach us anything. How dare we students need to be educated? He, by the way, must have had heinous Benign Prostatic Hyperplasia. His nickname was “donkey balls”, also his wife looked like a man. One time, a student realized that his wife happened to be another teacher there and exclaimed, “That’s your wife? I swore I thought she was a les…um…oh…crap.” My teacher’s balls were pulsating with anger. Ha.

image

it's like I had my high school yearbook on google images

I’m not certain where the overconfidence comes from but I think it relates to how much someone identifies themself as a person with that activity or knowledge.

2. Insistent People Who Will Not Take NO for an Answer

It’s awkward enough to be polite as possible when you say “No” to an engagement you don’t want to commit to. It’s torture to say no a thousand freaking times. However, the other party is not getting the hint and is providing a million alternatives to enable you to attend. Maybe even murder…

Small example, say you hate pumpkin flavored anything in life. I do, if all forms of contraception was pumpkin flavored I would choose abstinence. More realistically, I would have an abundance of unplanned pregnancies.

image

Drink I tell you, you have to watch your brother and sister tonight

Incidentally, someone insists you would just love THEIR version of pumpkin pie and abandon your prejudice, giving redemption to all pumpkins the world over. Making the Great Pumpkin and Linus really happy. Well, lets say you relent just to stop the not shutting up that’s going on. You realize suddenly, this is what Ke$ha’s mouth tastes like when she wakes up in the morning. You want to gargle with sulfuric acid. Yep, you still hate pumpkins.

image

With one exception

This may or may not have happened to me personally, so that was all hypothetical. For whatever reason, these kind of people don’t interpret the words that are coming out of your mouth as a decline to their invite so they just keep asking over and over.

1. Healthy Advice Givers When Advice is Not Asked For.

I actually, care a whole bunch about health. I work out, I eat healthy, I work in the healthcare profession. It’s my passion. I don’t say anything about to anyone, as if it were Fight Club. I eat my vegetables and humus and STFU about it while I do it. Now, my coworkers know that I live this way but only because they ask and I in turn will tell them. They cheered aloud when I joined them in a cupcake celebration. I mean, I am human, and…cupcakes.

However, no matter the GMO filled, hydrogenated fat packed, chemically treated foods they eat, I’m going to be silent. Everybody knows vegetables good, candy bad. Everybody. They have internet access, a library card and a physician just like me.

image

This it's way better than having a life!

Well meaning health fanatics can sometimestake it to level ridiculous. They think they are privy to occult knowledge. I don’t mind being told about the dangers of a product’s chemical, I really don’t, but don’t be a hypervigilant nag about it. People tend to shut down when they experience constant correction. Also, people are going to live the way they want to and will not seek help until they are ready…if ever they are ready. So while a persistently critical health fanatic might live a long, healthy life it will probably be a lonely one too. This whole organic moment is growing in popularity (which, don’t get me wrong is really awesome), it’s ushered in a whole new kind of asshole behavior.

Well…that’s all for now. Comment, share…criticize (this may be shocking but not everyone it’s a fan of my blog).

Celebrations and Secret Fetishes

Life is many things, and worth celebrating. I suppose that’s why we have birthday parties, surely it’s not to ensure magicians have jobs. They dress like effeminate pirates and who likes that? Birthday clowns are weird too. There was a guy in my neighborhood growing up that was a birthday clown. He called himself Bubbles. My mother would threaten to hire him for my birthday. Not funny, not ever, mom. Okay a little.

image

mind = mystified

Now where was I? Oh yes, life and fetishes. This is not a secret admission here, it’s more like a FYI. I have some shame, probably a little more than Dina Lohan. I’m going to say right here, that was the only episode of Dr. Phil I wanted to watch and actually did watch. If you don’t know what I’m talking about take a minute to “click this link fool” on your magic wizard box or computer as they have been called since 1977. Then come back and thank me in the comment section.

What exactly is this fetish business? Active Senior Citizen Men. Yep.

image

wave your hand in the air, wave them like you just don't care

I was driving down the road and saw a geriatric man riding a bicycle, his calve muscles were ripped. His jogging shorts perhaps dangerously short and in danger of a more than generous ball shot, but he was rocking them the fuck out. You could feel his zest for life emanating from his person. He was living the golden years and winning at it.

I can’t help but admit that I find active old men attractive. I don’t necessarily want to give them my phone number for them to program into their Jitterbug phone, because lets face it that would take like ten minutes. I do however, admire them and want this when I myself am older. There is just something so amazing about a man in his sixties living a less sedentary life than most men my age. Plus they have AARP benefits and more than likely a Mercury Sable convertible.

image

you should see the north pole, uh huh huh, shazaam

When I see an older man jogging, I imagine he woke that morning before dawn. He did some push-ups and laced up his favorite pair of New Balance shoes. He came downstairs to eat three eggs, a piece of toast and coffee, black. Cream and sugar is for men who can’t change a tire, weak men, men who didn’t vote for Reagan. Men who don’t eat meat. These men do not own power tools. Disgusting. He heads down to his favorite greenway mindful that he remembered his waist pack with water bottle holder. After some stretches and a disapproving glance at the young man in his sagging pants, he begins.  He goes along, nodding politely at all the ladies (because he knows they’re impressed), until he’s completed his routine.

image

prefers fat free half and half

He gets home to enjoy a delightful cold cut and brown mustard sandwhich with the wife. Then they bang, because he’s an active senior full of vigor. He showers and then goes to his wood shed for the day to make birdhouses and whatever the hell old men do those things. Really, what do they do beside shellac EVERYTHING? I don’t know either but I’m willing to be arrested for trespassing to spy on one.

He comes in for dinner; pot roast, potatoes, green beans and homemade yeast rolls because his wife Alice either cooks or looks through JC Penny catalogues all day. They watch Dateline and go to bed. This is what I’m pretty sure active senior men do, everyday.

image

that's right bitch

I personally think this is awesome, or that I’m awesome for thinking this. Whichever, have a sexy day.

Facts About The Penes

Today I’m taking you to school, penis school, the plural of penis is penes (pronounced like weenies). Today you will learn facts, facts that make you smart, almost as smart as me. Let the smartening commence:

Fact #1

Diphallia, penile duplication (PD), diphallic terata and diphallasparatus are all acceptable names for a very rare medical condition that results in a male being born with not one, but two penes. I like to call this condition, “Stevie Ray Vaughan and the Double Trouble” or “La Hydra“. By rare I mean, 1 in 5,500,000 menfolk suffer this condition and uncomfortable briefs in America.

While you can make a sweet “helicopter” action, you may also suffer from sterility. This is not be confused with genital bisection which happens to be an elective procedure for absolute weirdos that want their penis to look like a hot dog bun.

Look at all the dicks in this picture!

Fact # 2

Nature has the sense of humor of a twelve year old. The Penis Plant, the Penis Cactus or less commonly known Trichocereus bridgesii looks like, well, a pot full of human dicks. Right now I’m online trying to purchase one because let’s face it, this is going to be hilarious to give to grandma on Christmas Day. What’s better is  in Germany, this plant is classified as a Frauenglück which translates to “women’s joy”. I love Germans, I love their level of weird too.

Fact #3

In New Guinea, it’s tradition for the native males to don a koteka, or a penis gourd over their genitals. Fashioned from dry gourds they are held by strings. One tribe wears two gourds, no they do not have Diphallia, they use the secondary gourd to carry their belongings like wallet and cell phone? Yep.

“The Man” or the “Govment” don’t approve of the fashion statement and in the  70’s they attempted to put a stop to this with “Operasi Koteka” (“Operation Penis Gourd”). This sounds pretty covert and high tech right? Well it seems the government was really trying to encourage the tribesmen to wear modern clothes like gym shorts and t-shirts. It didn’t go over well since the people within the tribe were not used to wearing these items nor were they aware that they should wash them. Kotekas are not allowed in government buildings so you better bust out your best pair of Umbros for the library. Adversely the tribesmen of New Guinea refuse to wear socks with sandals claiming it to be “Like, the worst fashion faux pas ever”.

“I want my gourd back, NOW”

Fact #4

Animals really do bone each other. A baculum is a bone found in the penis of many mamals. Humans, dolphins, whales and most marsupials are some of the few that are the exception to this of course. Not that marsupials follow mammal rules anyway. Hence the duck bill platypus, the animal that gives evolution a middle finger. Like, “Fuck you, I’m a mammal that lays eggs, let your science teacher explain that!” What a troubled genus.

Scientists and like, other smart people believe that humans lost these through the years due to our tendency to copulate less than other primates (hmmm really?). Well, unless your Mormon or a Dugger. Basically, monkeys sex it up all day every day so they can extend their species and they have a built in “Performance Enhancer” at all times. So, no calling in for a free sample of Enzyte for these guys, they’re too busy disfiguring people who try to understand them anyhow.

Fossilized walrus baculum: DAYUMMM!!! 

Fact # 5

The oldest dildo to date is comprised of siltsone and approximately 30,000 years old. It was found in the Hohle Fels Cave of Germany, the prehistoric Hustler. So, it seems my high school English teacher did not own the world’s oldest dildo…though she was ancient.

THIS is educational.

 

I hope you learned a lot today and I also hope you got a mental image of your own high school teachers. Until next time, my fellow penes.