Giving a Shit

I woke up the other day and my low back was extremely tender. As I sat up in bed, the sharp pains worked quicker than Nitro coffee at popping my eyes open, but I couldn’t spring to my feet. As I reached down to pull on my shorts from the floor, yes I sleep naked, I had to move in slow motion. I gave into gravity and allowed my tense body to unfold on the ground. I started inch by inch and stretched the hell out of it. As I tried to spring up off the floor, all of the tightness and cramping remained and I limped to a semi-erect stance.

What the hell was going on? Ah, tracing the "what coulda" possibilities for my problems, I fortunately realized that I wasn’t injured injured. Two days earlier I did a super intensive leg and low back work out, first time ever like that, and the muscles were cramping and complaining like a spoiled housewife. And just like a spoiled housewife, I couldn’t beat them into submission; I would have to try and ignore them and hope that, eventually, the bitching would subside.

After my real coffee, it was my preordaiuned time to go number 2. People generally don’t like to talk about bowl movements, so I am going to jump right in here. I have noticed that people essentially hide everything there is about taking shits: they don’t talk about shitting; they try to do it when no one else is around, an empty house is all ways best; they spray pinewood smells to hide the scent; and even have secret favorite and isolate locations to poop, like a tucked away bathroom in a remote location of an office building across from where you actually work. Many of us will hold a painful shit in for hours, praying to make it in time onto our own, comfortable commode. 

I have been freed to talk this dirty talk by the new kids on the block. I have discovered that young people today don’t give a shit. Fortunately, and this bodes well for our collective futures, they are accepting and open to just about everything; sexuality, racial diversity, crappy music and shitting. They are not hiding from anything anymore. They are open and free and going number 2, is just another shit they don’t give.

I recently came home from work and rushed in to take a pee; traffic was horrible and I drank way too much coffee that afternoon. Thee closes bathroom was locked as I went for the knob. I hear a voice “I’m pooping.” Bathroom after bathroom was locked. I leaked urine in my pants and I began to get really pissed off. I had 6 bathrooms that were filled with teens pooping and only one teen was mine.  They were simultaneouly shitting like synchronized poopers and Snap-chatting together. After the flushing started, they popped out one by one and greeted me with a simile and a “Hi Vince.” These kids shit practically in front of me and showed no shame. None whatsoever.

I stood there confused and wondered how they did that so easily. They came to my house after school and took a group poop. Even today, I don’t think I could take a dump in my brother’s home. Maybe my mother’s, but probably not. How is this new generation so well adjusted? Didn’t we teach them anything? Somehow their ease in life is also revealed in how they call me “Vince” not Mr. Pravato.

The teens I know refer to the parents and adults by first name. I grew up calling everyone Mr. and Mrs. It may have seemed out of respect, but was more out of fear. Any adult could easily have struck a kid back then. Today, all the parents want to be liked by all the kids. Cool moms and cool dads aren’t scary.  So the same way they call me Vince, they shit in my toilet right in front of me without even spraying the bathroom down when it stinks. Not a single kid panicked when I rattled a bathroom door, desperately needing to urinate. They each remained calm, finishing their duty without remorse or guilt. If this happened to me as a kid, I would have pinched my cheeks together mid-shit, assshit dirty and all, pulled up my pants, flushed, sprayed and apologized for being in Mr. Jackson's bathroom. 

The teens have inspired me and I am now able to share my story. My back was cramping and I had an empty house to make a bowl movement. As I sat down, my hamstrings and glutes burned with pain and soreness. After I finished, it was time to wipe. I bundled up a nice load of super soft toilet paper in my right hand and I made the right arm twist and swing around move. The cramped and tight muscles in my back seriously restricted my range of motion as I tried to get the paper between my cheeks.  I struggles and jerked. I tried the left hand. I got closer, but a good on the money wipe was impossible.

It was at that moment I realized that severely over weight people, and/or people with big asses, may have real problems with wiping. This never entered my mind before my personal predicament. I have a friend named Harry who is over weight, who I am sure has never completely wiped his ass before. On top of his belly size and his fat ass, Harry has tegrydactile arms. His arms are so short, he can barely get his keys out of his front pants pocket. There is no way in hell he can get either of his hands within a grenade distance of his asshole. Does he wipe by reaching between his legs from front to back? Does he have to hold in his shit until he gets home so he can jump into the shower right after a taking a messy shit?

I am not detailing my observations to make fun of large people or people with short arms. I am concerned and I think I have a solution to a previously unspoken of problem. I am trying to strike before one of the new generation of kids comes up with my idea and beats me to the billions in profit that is sure to follow. I invented up the Fat Ass Wiper. It’s essentially a curved back scratcher with a diaper wipe attached at the end. The Fat Ass Wiper enables the big bodied, short armed people of the world to properly clean their bodacious and filthy butts. There remains a problem; my idea was stolen before I thought of it.