Thursday, October 23, 2008

Potty talk

In light of a recent post about manhood and the said faux (I like that word) characteristics about what truly makes a man a man (IE-farting, grunting, etc), I must digress. The content of this post is purely immature, potty humor, none of which adds to my manhood but confirms one of many challenges I have to being a man: bodily functions. ( TMI?)

Although I (and countless other men) can laugh at my dysfunction, oh, my poor wife. She asks me to light a candle, (strategically placed through out the house), daily. This is truly an issue for most guys..and all canines. We can't help but expel foul smells from every possible place. Besides genetic make-up, I tend to blame tasty, not so-good for you, "ethnic delicacies." I guess I'd rather suffer the digestive consequences (that sometimes last for hours or days) for 15 minutes of blissful meal consumption. I could make zillions of spiritual parallels here but I'll just refer back to this post.

I mean, come on! What would you expect to happen when choosing to eat a menu item named "SHRIMPS OF THE DEVIL?" Nothing less than a sort of exorcism of the bowels.

And what's with Taco Bell's newest menu item? Are you kidding me? I call this as Jim Gaffigan's next act. The Volcano Taco? Cheesy lava sauce? Who comes up with this? We know where that's gonna explode. You won't just be running for the border, that's for sure.
Do tacos need any catchy, colorful, explanatory, name whatsoever? Taco. Burrito. Enchilada. They speak for themselves and we know what to expect. But if we really need a new name that appropriately explains consequences, I have a suggestion.

MONTEZUMA'S ENCHILADA! The ultimate Explosion!

(Only 89 cents).

(BTW, I dedicate this post to my friend Derek Balavac who by far wins the Oscar in adding to the foulness of society's olfaction. His wife deserves your prayer).


Matt Nightingale said...

I am totally laughing out loud and reading your post to Josh and Jake...

Matt Nightingale said...

Reminds me of two things... 1) When I was actually IN THE EMERGENCY ROOM at Kaiser, writhing in agony, convinced I had appendicitis and then, AFTER AN MRI... It was gas. Yup, just gas. ake some Vicodin and go home. It'll pass.
2) Oh how I used to love the Indian place on Main street. But Luanne couldn't handle it. She swore the curry smell was coming out of the pores on my skin and the roots of my hair.