Sunday, December 20, 2009

Snowstorms and Shitstories

We're pretty much in The Frozen Tundra of Doom, and I did the unthinkable.

I was planning on doing the shopping and the laundry on Friday, but my son woke up with a fever, so... I didn't. I didn't know. About the weather. Because I'm a dolt, and I avoid the news. -So we got snowed the fuck in, for real-real not for play-play, with very little in the house. Which makes me feel terrible. I'm Mom, ya know?!

It wasn't until yesterday afternoon, however, that I realized the depth of my failure.

I was cleaning up the bathroom, and found that there was but one roll of TP, and I was about to put it on the spool.

At first this just made me think of Charles Bukowski. He keeps it real. In the bathroom department.

I also got myself snowed in with absolutely no Midol.

It's the worst blizzard ever, you guys.

I woke up at 4a.m., and I was dying. I took three Excedrin and just kept dying. And panicking about TP. And coffee creamer. I'm really good at fretting. Grama would be so proud. -And that's when I started laughing hysterically.

I was downstairs by then, having a smoke and enjoying an As Seen On TV! commercial for The Bumpit, (I want to Bumpit, just to be a freak, but I don't live on Saturday Night Live, so it seems like a bad idea.) when The Memories of Blizzards Past came to visit, and brought with them The Shitstories.

And I love Shitstories. According to Grama, I am a Pollock for this reason. Despite the fact that we're Scottish. I discovered this when she meticulously filled in a few forms for the Census Bureau, no shit.

ANYWAY, I think I know where this TP Anxiety comes from. You see, I grew up in a great big house with one bathroom and 10 asses. The most important ass in the kingdom belonged to my Dad, and he was a champion shitter, and one of the great bathroom readers of our time. The bathroom was conveniently located off the kitchen, which was acoustically magnificent, and a great source of entertainment for diners.

Because... While you couldn't really eat an apple in my house because we weren't aloud to chew that loudly, my Father would get nuclear in the bathroom while we ate breakfast, and never give it a thought.

And I'm a Pollock, so I would sometimes just start laughing, gasping, wheezing, and he would cuss me out through the door, while setting off M-80s, which only made me laugh harder...

And sometimes, he'd be cussing me out and realize he was out of toilet paper, and his tone would suddenly change and become friendly. Which was, of course, hilarious. "Okay, okay, get ahold of yourself." he would say, and then, "Ummmmm... We're out of paper in here. Ummmmm... Yer gonna have to run to the store."

So, in my early teens, I would run across the street, through the field and the parking lot, and into the store, grab a giant pack of TP, and go to the register wishing I wasn't about to get waited on by this adorable guy, with this giant, family sized, industrial strength toilet paper. We plan on shitting. A lot!

And if it was snowing outside when he realized he was out? I'd better grab two packs. Ya hear about the snow? Yeah. It's enchilada night- bad combo!

And this one time, he'd been in there for about four hours, he had cussed three of us out because we had to pee... In a four hour period. He was in there blowin' it out, yelling at us... I heard a growl at least once *shiver*, giving orders from the thrown, and then he realized some things.

"Ummmm. Yer gonna have to run to the store. Get some money from yer Mom."

"I got it."

"No, you gotta get the TP and some Preperation H."


See. That's just wrong.

So I went out today- the roads are FUCKED UP, but I made it, and I stocked us up but good, and I bought two giant packs of TP- because it's Enchilada Night and we plan on shitting a lot, and when I put them on the belt I almost choked trying to stifle myself. When I got home, My Dude helped me unload, and I saw him trying not to laugh when he saw this. He didn't know about The Shitstories, he only knew that I was chastising myself for letting it go down that way.

"Did I ever tell you my Dad was an Epic Shitter?" I asked.


"Oh, he was like the J.R.R. Tolkien of Shitting." he looked at me funny.

"We ran out every time there was a weather situation, and I used to play Beat the Blizzard/Hurricane/Monsoon while he was stuck in the can."


"This isn't normal, is it?"

"I don't think it is, no."


  1. "Couldn't really eat an apple in my house..." Ah, yes. Golden memories of childhood.

    I bought a Bumpit. I did. I haven't taken it out of the box because I've realized I don't have enough hair to cover it and that depresses me. On the upside, now I have another prop for my next dog photo shoot.

    Good luck with the snow-in!!

  2. Just attended a holiday...blow out. The hostess must have missed your memo about how to prep for 75 intruders when serving black bean pie...

    Good thing they had them purdy sparkly santa hand towels.

    Damn thing left glitter on my ass.

  3. Ha! The Tolkien of shitters. Fantasical. I'll bet he'd like a little award with that etched into it. I wonder if they offer toilets as an option at those buy-plastic-awards-here shops.

    Or poop.

    I doubt that. (No matter how much even *I* want a golden poop-shaped award. A girl can dream.)

  4. You win the award for giving me my first laugh out loud for the day!


  5. @Steamy: YOU GOT ONE!!!!!!! See, I knew you were my hero. -Have you tried back combing the section that goes over the Bumpit? I think you have to to make it camouflage, and then smooth out just the very top layer.

    @Chantel: Bwahahahahaha! Ass glitter can be very dangerous! I'm glad you shittoweled her in advance;)

    @Kate: *Snicker* Over the years, a few of us actually made him a number of weird, shit related trophies... It never went over as well as we hoped, but it was still totally worth it!

    @Michelle: Thank YOU!

  6. The problem is I have a cowlick right in the back of my head where the bumpit goes. My hair looks like it's trying to run off my head in separate directions. But I'll try to backcomb.

    I almost bought a PedEgg too, but I knew it would be trouble because at some point I'd think it was funny to replace our parmesan with foot shavings.

  7. Bwahahahahahahahahaha *BARF* Bwahaaaaaaaaahahahahaha*GACK* Oh man!

    I actually DID buy a pedegg- I'll never be able to look at it the same way again!!

  8. My dad's bathroom was right off the kitchen too. My mom would be in the kitchen making spaghetti and yelling "For Pete's sake Donald, light the candle!!!".

    Good times.

  9. *waves* cracking up about the "Bump It" comment...I've been roasting a friend about hers saying she was auditioning for the Jersey Shore II cast!

  10. It's YOU!!! -Bwahahahahaha! When I see a bumpit in person, you'd think Oprah just rolled out of a limo in front of me. The joy is hard to contain, but it's never anyone I KNOW, so I can't give them shit about it:p

  11. This is why I always keep newspapers handy. Just in case....