It being Mother's Day and all, I figured I'd discuss a little situation that is going on with the old lady.
All right, so we've basically been together for about 20 years -- since the college days. We get along amazingly well, considering all the time we've spent together over the years, and, by now, there's very little we don't know about each other.
So, I don't mind if, say, I'm brushing my teeth and she's taking a whiz right next to me (in the toilet, of course). Big whoop. And I don't mind if she feels comfortable enough to, oh, rip one in bed, a la Shelley Winters, to my Ernest Borgnine. I'm flattered, actually... after I stop dry-heaving, that is. I've even given her the nickname "The Rear Admiral." She has quite a talent.
But I have to draw the line at her leaving a fully-engorged, horrendous-traffic-accident-looking tampoon afloat in the crapper for me to just happen upon every month. Good god, it's like that voodoo guy from Indiana Jones has just ripped the still-beating heart from that guy's chest, tied a leash around it, and plopped it into my commode. If anyone wants proof against an Intelligent Designer, take a look at the mess in my potty -- the "being" who created that shit is a sick fuck.
Am I outta line here?! I mean, how hard is it to flush that shit down, woman?! Of course, in her defense, I know she doesn't do it on purpose. She says she forgets to flush it, now and again. Fine. But whenever I complain about it, she always says:
OLD LADY: Oh, come on. It's not that bad. It's like a band-aid.
A BAND-AID?! If you've got an injury pumping that kinda shit out of it, a Band-Aid ain't gonna help you! We're talking compression bandages for a sucking chest wound. It's like walking onto the set of "Platoon" in that bathroom, sometimes. I don't know whether to flush it down or toss it into a cooler packed with ice and rush it to the nearest hospital so it can be re-attached.
I don't know how you women deal with that shit every month. It seems so... medieval. I mean, we can send a man and/or woman to the moon but you guys still have to put those things in your... things to soak up the... stuff?! It's mind-boggling!
So, Happy Mother's Day to the Old Lady. She's a fantastic mom, a perfect partner and a saint for having stuck with me for so long. But unless she starts flushing the plugs with a little more regularity, she ain't gonna be getting one of them fancy "Pecan Divinity Tubs" any time soon.
5 comments:
How funny.
I just made the comment today, as I suffer through horrendous cramps, that if men had to go through this every month, there'd be an over-the-counter cure for it.
OMG, you made me PMSL!!! HE, he. no secrets here between you and your Mrs and the universe now is there??
Glad I went through the worst operation of my life..almost killed me in fact, just to stop that "bleeding" (for want of a better word, every month.
Have to agree with Kim though, be great if they'd find a cure for it, darn Eve for eating that apple aye!!
Cheers Crabbydad, you make my day!!
Not specific to this post, but general to your blog: too fuckin funny! I don't have kids, but some of my best friends do... wait... that sounded racist or something...
Never mind me, just please keep writing! You are brilliant.
when i was a dancer i invented something called "the suck n' pump".
here's how it works: you take a pill to create mild contractions, insert a tampon-sized tube that "sucks" the blood out, while a "pump" moves it into a vacuum sealed bag. which you dispose of.
i figured it would take about 15 minutes to get everything out. so basically, you've ridden the crimson tide in a couple of minutes rather than a couple of days.
i need to patent this.
Megan -- call Ron Popeil immediately! You've got to do an infomercial for that thing -- it'll make you millions! Although you've got to work on the name a little bit. "Suck 'n' Pump" might be too off-putting.
I'd go with "The Vag-o-matic."
Post a Comment