I like to think of myself as an honest guy, but, if you were to ask why I don't go to the zoo more often, I'd lie.
I might say I don't like seeing the animals in cages - which is true.
I might say that the zoo is usually overrun with little kids - which is also true.
I might say a lot of things - all of them true - but none of them would be the real reason I don't go to the zoo more often.
The real reason is the primates. I know damn well the monkeys, gorillas and chimpanzees are all thinking the same thing when a guy like me walks by.
They're thinking "I'm in a cage yet he roams free? Fuck that."
Sadly, the monkeys are right.
As are the gorillas.
And the chimps.
As if my loft isn't gay enough, I decided I needed to jazz up my bathroom - because, as we all know, when a guest is taking a less than spectacular dump, the only thing that can take their mind off their rectal letdown is proper pooper decor.
You know I'm right.
If you're having an awe-inspiring bowel movement, the what and where are pretty much irrelevant. You push, Push, PUSH - and then, as if your buttocks have the power to alter time and space, the world stops turning and you reach defecation nirvana. You groan - oh, such a satisfying groan. It's really bliss.
No bathroom decor is required.
But, if you're having an unsatisfactory bowel movement, it's sheer bordom. The mind wanders - as do the eyes. In a situation like that, my boring bare-wall bathroom simply will not do during the doodoo that you'd be doing.
OH, if only my guests always ate enough fiber!!!
For years, I attempted to befriend supposed masssive-fiber-eaters, only to find that they ate Frosted Flakes rather than Total or Wheaties when no one was looking.
"Frosted Flakes?" I'd cry out in horror while browsing through a meager fiber-eater's kitchen. "This shit doesn't have a hundred percent of your recommended daily allowance of fiber as regulated by the food and drug administration!!!"
My friend would pretend not to know what I was talking about, but I'm never fooled.
"Don't think I don't know what you're up to. You're going to take a dump in my bathroom tomorrow, and, since you're not eating enough fiber, the experience will be less than satisfactory. You'll pretend to be loving it, but really, we both know you'll just be going through the motions. Plop plop, fizz fizz, oh what a relief it won't be. And then do you know what you'll do? You'll sit there, bored... and you'll look around. And that's when you'll realize my bathroom lacks the proper decor for a less than satisfactory bowel movement."
The look of shock and horror on my friend's face confirms my suspicion (yes this happened more than once).
The solution was clear: I either had to avoid committing to a friendship until I knew what kind of breakfast food the person ate - or - I had to jazz up my bathroom.
With that in mind...
...I bought some picture frames.
...I bought a shelf.
...I tried to hang them.
Hanging a few picture frames was easy. I did a few measurements. I hammered a few nails into the wall. I bashed my thumb a few times. I cursed a lot.
Hanging one fucking shelf in a standard wall became a disaster that required several trips to the hardware store. I fought the wall and the wall won - which brings me back to the monkeys.
I honestly believe your average primate could have accomplished this with one, or maybe two, trips to the hardware store. It took me three.
In my defense, I was sold a defective wall anchor, which chewed through screws faster than a prostitute on SE 82nd.
After consulting my friends about what to do when a screw won't go into a wall...
"Did you put enough ass into it Rob?"
"Yes, I put enough ass into it!"
...I made trip number three to the hardware store for a replacement wall anchor. And what do you know...
The screw went right in.
And the shelf was hung.
For the art, I took three pictures of a pussy-willow I bought at Sammy's on NW 22nd & Glison and printed them to fit the 8-inch square frames I found at Target.
The shelf was a clearance find at Meier And Frank. Inside it sits a gift from a radio buddy who knew I wasn't allowed to have an aquarium in my studio at the radio station I was then working at.
Though a monkey could have done a better job of hanging one freaking shelf, I ask you... could a monkey have taken his own pictures for art?
I. Think. Not.
...but I'll be avoiding the Oregon Zoo just in case... cuz I know what they're thinking.
This post is exactly why i am your friend!!
Although you might want to rethink the fish. i know it has sentimental value but it brings a kid-like feel to a otherwise sophisticated bathroom...it just doesn't jive with my satisfactory pooping experience that i now want to have in your bathroom.::::: | May 17, 2006 9:46 AM
*LOL* That is some funny shit, dude. And I'm old enough to get the Alka-Seltzer reference.
I'm headed downstairs for a bran muffin right now.::::: | May 17, 2006 9:54 AM
Yeah, the fish is only there until I come up with a better use of an 8 inch square shelf. I actually tried looking for something knickknackable at World Market this past weekend, but I suck at that.::::: | May 17, 2006 12:44 PM
As an unbiased observer who has life-long experience in both observing AND pooping, I judge the fish as a worthwhile though temporary addition to your bathroom. However, I do think you need to work harder at overcoming your shyness about discussing bodily functions.::::: | May 18, 2006 9:29 PM
What? No magazines? I know some people think its gross to keep reading materials in the bathroom but if you often have to send each piece an engraved invitation ('Dear doodoo, you are cordially invited to my bowel movement. Bring a guest.') then I think having something to read helps keep your mind off the pain.
Did you see someone is selling black toilet paper now? (hope it's colorfast)::::: | May 19, 2006 5:53 PM
hey! that fish looks familiar.....::::: | April 20, 2009 7:48 PM
Yes indeed! That's the fish you gave me when I lived in Houston!::::: | April 20, 2009 8:54 PM