Stall Wall Musings (Lava Snakes)

i sit here today with a mix of emotions. and red ass cheeks. i am angry, but i'm also afraid. i feel confused and anxiety-stricken as i think about the future. i feel cheated by those close to me. those who told me that a simple blob of body wash and a vigorous karate chop of the hand would solve all my problems and render me a fresh and renewed human being.

but today, i'm faced with the harsh cold reality of my anal expulsions. to make matters worse, i'm punished by the consequences from the same gruesome scene that took place the day before. this self-perpetuating cycle has made me afraid to defacate and has made me angry at the lies that were fed to me, both from friends and media. there isn't a day that goes by when i'm not told how much i need my daily fiber. did all those stupid constipated folks out there ever stop and realize that there are some of us who don't need a shovel's worth of fiber in our diets? it irritates me to think the FDA knows what my GI-tract really needs. f*** them. and let's not get me wrong here - i'm not your average immodium hd customer complaining about my sloppy brown puddles on tv. so don't think that i've got some kind of virus or stomach bug you stupid inconsiderate pleab.

to put it short, i'm plagued with lava snakes. these seemingly innocent turds come out looking like normal poop, but they are pastier and tapered in consistency (hence the reference to snakes), they feel hot (hence the lava), and they smell like the reaper knocking at your door. aside from their obvious foul nature, it's the consistency that really punishes you. you never get a clean cut so you're left with an asscrack that looks filled with the remnants of a melted burnt sienna crayon. i kid you not...the brutality of the vigorous wiping that takes place thereafter demands a half a roll of toilet paper...and this is the thin, mass-produced crap from companies like sysco. i look at the leftover roll and want to cry heavily into the consoling arms of the mother who birthed me. eventually i have to give up because i'm in so much pain, or the lady janitor, the old angry russian woman with terrible B.O., comes exploding through the door to scrub up the poop driblets from the previous guy who could have applied for one of those immodium hd commercials i was talking about...not to mention the dried up piss fungus from the retard who decided not to pee in the giant white target like a big boy, but rather aim his little peanut dick at the clean floor and defoul it with his coffee-smelling, dark yellow, viscous piss. what an asshat.

and then the following day, when you thought the storm cleared, it happens all over again...only this time your dirt star is terribly wounded like a soldier on the field. and you further massacre it with abrasive toilet paper as if to punish it for the gross malfeasance it committed the day before. why does it have to do that? why does my body, even on non-coffee days, insist on creating the most difficult, intricate, time-consuming process for me? i've double-checked my diet, and it's fine. the tp i use is fine, because the same happens when i'm at home using our own tp (which is like rubbing pillows in your butt...and you go through an entire roll in one sitting). a lot of times, i simply give up on the wiping and just have to wait til nighttime when i scrub it all out with bodywash, something i never had to do before.

this leads me to two conclusions. 1. i was never meant to bodywash my dirt star in the first place. i was told by two friends, who shall remain nameless, that an unscrubbed star was a disgusting one. well i'll tell you what...that didn't stop lots of hens from wanting to lick it back then. now, i've created the lubricated environment for poop to run wild like the elk of the northern plains. it sickens me. 2. i need to start eating saltine crackers now. my diet is fine, but i realize the need for substances that can really solidify my poop. saltines have always been my ally for this...saltines are like your friends across the large, ovular table at a United Nations meeting...they want peace, and they do the job it takes to make peace. (unlike coffee, which is like the weird, narcissistic prime minister that sits off to the side with a dirty, conniving look on his face...you just know he wants to do something bad). the problem, then, is that i must always maintain a constant supply and devote my monthly income to a plethara of saltines.

my bowel monologues are far too frequent, this i realize. but it's been a constant source of anguish for me, and it's time i do something. this is seriously affecting my daily life, and as i begin the healing process for lower intestinal tract, i will simultaneously strike down my wrath upon the two smelly asses that catalyzed this nightmare for me in the first place.