Buttwipe

I was on the toilet the other day (that other day being Thursday), and when I was done my business, I proceeded to wipe up (as usual). But on this particular day (the Thursday), I had a thought.

I wondered if there's another way to wipe my butt.
Does everyone wipe the same way?
I mean, how would I know?
Wait, how would anyone know?

Because the way I see it, buttwiping is really almost like genetics. We seem to be taught to wipe our asses by our parents and/or caretakers, and that's pretty much our only source of instruction for this task. We don't learn at school (or perhaps I missed that day in class). What it comes down to is that there's no real information sharing when it comes to wiping our own asses.

So, what if there's one way that seems obvious and 95% of us do it that way, but what if there's a vastly superior technique that the remaining 5% use? What if that's one of those things where, once you learn it, you think, "Of course! Why didn't we think of that before??" And maybe that's the reason the 5% never thought to bring it up!

So, being the humanitarian I am (because this really could be beneficial for 95% of humankind), I propose a solution: let's share our ass-wiping techniques.

You first.
Go.

PS: There's no hidden meaning here. I mean it literally: wiping our bums. And I had a nice long weekend, thanks for asking.

Just One More

We all know it, even if some of us won't admit it: sometimes you just need a second flush. Sometimes the toilet flush power isn't enough, or the capacity doesn't suffice to rid its bowl of last night's beans-n-fiber bonanza.

And I know about the whole being energy efficient and natural resource conscious and all that. But if you're going to process the bowl for the next guy, it's worth that extra flick of the handle to eliminate those pesky lingering brown sediments.

Seriously.

Yes, mysterious coworker on the fourth floor, that means you. Don't make me do your dirty work, buster. I'll be looking out for you.

show(P)er

Let's say you stepped into the shower, and you're about done half your shower routine already. Suddenly, you need to pee. So tell me, do you pee in the shower?

Yeah, me too.

Pop a Vein

Is it true that you can pop a vein if you strain too hard while making a doodie? There are times when I worry about that and wonder why I didn't eat more fibre that day.

Pee and Poo

Merry Christmas! Three questions we should all have immediate answers to.

1. If you just started showering, and suddenly had to pee, what do you do?
a. Just pee. (Specify any particular techniques or methods.)
b. Hold it.
c. Stand in the shower, but aim for the toilet.

2. If you're on the toilet, and all done your doodies, which way do you wipe?
a. Hand outside around the back ("wallet from your backpocket" route).
b. Hand down between legs to the back (a la "Marilyn Monroe in the gust of wind").
c. I don't wipe; that's the job of my thong underwear.

3. If you're in a public toilet stall spitting logs, and someone comes in just as you're about to drop another deuce, do you ...
a. Pause, and hold it mid-drop.
b. Drop it anyway; who cares, it's a bathroom.
c. Drop it, but let out a loud cough to mask the splash sound.

What, I'm just asking how you do it; not asking for a demonstration! So thank you for your time and candidness in answering, after you get over the initial disgust.

PS: I've filled in a bunch of entries between 12/10 and 12/15, in case you missed those.

Off the Cuff

Point of enlightenment: it would be a Bad Thing^TM to be wiping your butt and then accidentally get some poo on your dress shirt cuff. Because that smell doesn't really come out except with thorough washing, and you'd be sporting some serious eau de toilette for the rest of the day.

(No, I didn't have this happen to me, but the thought of such danger did dawn upon me as I was wiping my ass this morning. I mean, at least with streak marks, they're hidden.)

Reflections of a Personal Kind

Mirrors are a great tool used by interior designers. They make things look bigger: rooms, hallways, your ass in that dress. And they're generously used in some nice hotels as well. They use it in the bathroom of my hotel room. No, I don't mean in front of the mirror -- every bathroom has one of those. No, they have an extra one, a full-height one, as the wall of the bathtub. Yeah. There.

With it, I now give myself full frontal nudity each time I shower. And as most of you could guess, I can guarantee you this is not a pretty sight.

But wait, there's more!

With the mirror where it is, it gets worse. I now side-moon myself each time I sit on the crapper. That, I really don't need to see. Who needs to watch themselves on the toilet??

And it's directly opposite the regular mirror, which means I don't just see myself on the toilet. No, no, that's getting off too easily. The two mirrors make a tunnel: a reflective tunnel of millions of perpetual, identical Bens going on forever. All sitting on the porcelain poo station, all moving in unison, all getting up at the same time to wipe their ass.

Lovely.

Real Pee

[We haven't touched on this topic for a while, and I know you miss it.]

I'm not sure how to explain this one. Here goes.

Sometimes I stand at the urinal and when I start peeing, it feels ... less real. Like, the difference between kind of peeing, and really peeing.

And sometimes I just get that thought of,

"What if this is just a dream that I'm peeing, but in real life, I'm actually wetting my bed? Hmm ... should I stop?"

Yeah, I'm weird like that. What. Get off my back already: it's Friday.

Shiny Happy People

Polished black tiles lend an elegant aire to an office building's bathroom. And in a way, its mirror-like properties are kind of useful so that you can see what's going on behind you while you're standing (rather vulnerably) at the urinal. But it can also be not-so-nice when you catch a glimpse of your stall-neighbour's ass on the toilet in the upward reflection during your poo. You have been warned.

Poo Poo Platter

How often do you poo?

I've heard that you should be pooing once a day, but until recently, I wasn't really. I'm not sure that -- now that my "daily chores" are actually daily -- that my health is necessarily any better because of it. Though, back in university, I did have one friend who, to our dismay, announced that he once had not poo'd for several days straight, and it wasn't until (apparently) the sixth day or so that he'd dropped his deuce. (You can imagine that it was hard to get back to studying after that comment.) I think we can all agree that six days is definitely not healthy. But probably an amazingly satisfying drop.

So my question remains:

How often do you poo?

(I know you have something to say about this. Everyone does. It's okay. You're amongst friends here; we won't open laugh in your face. Now go on, say it.)

Uncommon Scents

Ever experience an intense lesson with your nose? You're walking (or driving) along the street and a subtle waft of something in the air peaks your interest. And when you first get that whiff, it's almost like you can't really tell because it might smell like something else. Something you remember really liking, or something that brings you fond memories. Like the little Swedish berry candies you loved so much when you were a kid, and you could always afford at least ten of them with your allowance.

I mean, those are happy childhood memories, and who of us doesn't want to cherish those when the Memory Lane Express comes along unexpectedly? None of us (doesn't), that's who (not). You want more. So you take that second whiff -- a bigger one -- to get more of that, and that's when the full smell hits you. It's not something you like: it's something nasty. Like a pile of dog poo with a candy wrapper blown its way and stuck on it, waving back and forth, pushing its scents your way. And you realize that the air has just executed a carefully planned attacked, waited in the sidelines while you figured out that memory, and then ambushed you.

Sort of like thinking you smell delicious fried eggs with green onions and a little salt (using a non-stick pan and very little oil), and then realizing later, somebody in the rapid transit car just blew a big fart and it wafted your way. Sort of like that.

Except down this particular street, I was ambushed constantly. Car exhaust fumes (is it barbecue?), building HVAC vents (fresh warm buns), sewer pipe water, and the like. You can't get away from it, because you kind of can't not breathe!

May have to purchase one of those goofy-looking SARS mouth cover things. Maybe I'll buy a Gucci one -- not.

Learning the Ropes

Some things, they just don't teach in school. And they should. About a friend's kid:

"Hey, C, you need to teach your son how to pee properly. He's doing it wrong! He stands there at the toilet, does his business, and then shakes the last drops off ... all over his pants."

Poo Bare

Ever notice? Poo smells different.

From the same person on different days, or from different people on the same day, or even the same person on the same day but just different times. I'm sure it has to do with what you eat and what's leftover when your body doesn't want it anymore: grains in your poo would be understandably different from ... curry, let's say. (Don't blame me if you're trying to visualize this.)

But over time you can get a consistent understanding for how YOUR poo smells.* And then it can become a decent indicator on how your health is; when I'm getting sick, it's different.

In olden times, the Emperor of China had a (poor) guy whose job it was to smell his poo and determine from it an indication of his good/bad health. (There's a scene about this in the The Last Emperor.) Instead of a toilet, the Emperor poos into a big bowl, which the guy pulls up to his nose and gets a big whiff -- I imagine that he has that look on his face like a distinguished wine taster has when sampling the latest from Mondavi's reserves. (I can also imagine him complaining to his friends about the kind of sh!t he gets from his boss. Sorry.)

While the smell can tell you much, I don't think colour is really a good indicator. Must do more research.

---
* I'm just talking about the poo. So you'll need to weed out the smell of the next stall, or the smell of that Glade air freshener, or any of that. Just plain poo.

Hella-Smelly Yellow-Pee

Last Wednesday night, I had some people over for steaks, sided with some beautifully seared asparagus (thank you, thank you). This sprouted a conversation on the wonders of this vegetable -- after all, a scene of Austin Powers in Goldmember really spears the point. Questions begged.

Why does it make our pee smell?
Why does it make our pee so yellow?
Can this be used as some kind of territory-marking liquid around our homes, like wolves do in the wilderness?

I went to ask Greenworks to get the straight dope on this local harvest, and understand generally how stuff works with asparagus. Here's a 15-second summary.

Asparagus has six sulfur-containing compounds in it. The smell is caused by S-Methyl Thioesters, which are compounds that result from the reaction of an acid with one of those sulfur-containing alcohols. But not everyone gets it: about 40% notice the smell, and the rest don't. Why? The jury's still out. Some think the 40% have an enzyme that lets us to break down the sulfurous amino acids to produce the smellier components, while others believe those 40% have a gene that gives the ability to smell those odours. (I personally believe the former reasoning, though this should be easy to sort out by experiment: just have them smell each other's pee.)

Either way, it's a small price (for others) to pay for such a delicious vegetable (for you). And aside from the pee smell, it has very good nutritional value and taste. (I mean the asparagus, not the asparagus urine.)

Imagine a situation that gets progressively worse as you describe it, like this.

I hate it when I have to pee really bad, and am forced to hold it. While drunk. And wearing button fly pants. Lining up at the public bathroom. And one urinal is flooded. While a precious stall is taken by a drunk guy puking. And another is rendered useless because his puke is oozing under it. Leaving one urinal for you. And the 8 people in front of you. After which, the two sinks are plugged and overflowing, and there are no papertowels left.

Now you write one.

I can barely count the times I've ghetto pee'd since moving down here, mostly related to clubbing (which is when I'm actually up in the city).

- in an alley off Market Street (SF)
- by a white house (So SF)
- by a residential construction site (Redwood City)
- off the dock around Pier 51 (SF)
- behind the Best Buy by Folsom and 12th (SF)
- in the garbage depot around my apartment (couldn't make it home)
- just outside a lovely residential complex (SF)

It also doesn't help that I need to pee every 30-60 minutes because of how much water I drink, and the drive to SF is roughly 45 minutes long. D'oh!

Looking back on my blogs, I've noticed that I have some kind of sick fascination with all things bowel. Do I think toilet humour is funny? Absolutely. But is this getting out of hand?

So far, I've blogged about fresh underwear, toilet seat protectors, splashless techniques, a drain gurgle, boxers, spicy food, a little white house, urinal marking, the underwear hole, toilet seat placement, dark pee, and urine control!

(You may view this as a "flashback episode".)

If your pee is dark, what health condition is that a symptom of? Whatever it is, some guy in our company has that. This same guy is apparently too cool to flush his own urinal, leaving it for others to find.

Just wondering, but who uses the little pee hole in the underwear? (Obviously, this is directed towards the guys.) I mean, does anyone really "snake" their snake through that cotton labyrinth in order to pee? And would you want to see someone wiggling their willy with their hands while standing at the urinal? It makes sense if you're wearing boxer briefs, since it can be a "long way up" to get the undies down but with briefs, it's just easier to pull them down than to work your way through it. Yes, even under the pants. In any case, trying to get johnson through those two undie flaps probably requires more handy work (pun shamelessly intended) than one would like to imagine other people doing.

This is disturbing to me, particularly with the startling high proportion of men who seem to go straight from urinal to the door. They pass the sink without a second thought and out the door they go, leaving invisible leftovers on the inside of that door handle for the rest of us to pick up. A word to the wise: always always always open that door with a paper towel. Or wait for someone else to leave first; take an extra 10 seconds at the sink for someone to open that door first, and follow them right through.

The Hospital, not the Truck

El Camino Hospital staff was really nice (except one late-shift b!tch), very informative, and made me feel at ease. I'm sure that I helped them, since I was appreciative of everything they did for me, but the courtesy was reciprocated. A few things I learned at the hospital:

1. Peeing into the little urinal jug is strangely amusing. You can be standing in the middle of your room, and let loose on your bladder without worrying about getting in trouble for it! The same kind of sick thrill one might derive from sneaking a camera into a stripclub and taking "strictly forbidden" pictures. (Not that I have, but I suspect it would be the same kind of thrill.)
2. The "nurse call" button is a pretty fun power trip. Having a suite of buttons that beckons people is kind of nice. There's one for the nurse (general), and they're paid to answer to you! Then there's a green button with a frowny face, which is for "pain management" -- it basically means, "Dammit, it hurts, it hurts, please somebody bring me another 2mg dose of morphine!" And finally, there's a yellow one with what looks like a burnt out lightbulb. Be careful with this one -- it's not a lightbulb that means "reading light", but rather it's a toilet which means I can't do my daily chores by myself and need someone to come help me with it. (I learned that one the hard way, while looking up at the lightbulb wondering why it wasn't coming on.)
3. If you're nice to the staff, they give you more drugs. And they give you seconds and thirds of jello and chicken soup and cranberry juice. Jello, though sickly sweet, still tastes pretty damned good -- could use a few shots of alcohol to liven it up, though.
4. After an appendectomy, they want to know how much you pass through your system. Use the urinal jug and buzz them each time so they can come examine your pee for colour, viscosity, and volume.
5. That urinal examination job must suck. I could never work in a hospital, but I'm glad some people do.
6. Even if you're only 28 and in decent health, you still feel like an old fogey shuffling down the hallway pushing your IV pole around in order to get doctor-recommended exercise. But the least you can do it double-check your gown to be sure you're not mooning all the people in your wake.
7. It's a real neat thing to use, that hanging chain handle over the bed. Great for hoisting and repositioning yourself when you have no abs functioning. And probably a decent back and bicep workout too (if they don't catch you doing it).
8. That table that is your food tray, your desk, your little mirror and drawer ensemble? I need to get one of those for home!
9. So you've been up and about the hospital floor, walking around fully capable of getting here and there. You're ready to check out and they will still insist on wheelchairing you out to your car. I don't get it.
10. And however pleasant this whole experience seems, I'm sure the medical bill will make up for it.

I figure I'll just keep adding as I remember more. :-) Back to lying on the bed, pretending I'm utterly useless again.