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High fiber means a happy ass.

I recently began taking a fiber suppliment.

To put it bluntly, I was not being regular.

And I need a little regularity in my life.

So, Metamucil it is.

And the shit works, literally.

You should see my morning BM.

Color, consistency, firmness, its a thing of beauty.

I may start selling my dueces on Ebay.

And firmness? I may be only a week away from never having to wipe again.

(If I was not laughing non-stop during the writing of all of this, I might hesitate to post it. As it is, fuck yeah!)

My mother will not be happy with any of this post at all.

I just ran the Ebay line past her and I was glad my CPR card was up to date, because the woman practically shit herself. (Without the benefit of high-fiber. Her loss.)

So, this post is all about shit.

My shit, fiber-induced shit, the shit I will take for writing about shit, you name it.

The shit will hit the fan.

I wrote the section above roughly a day ago and even I am a little queasy about the idea of a post all about my bowel movements.

Not enough to keep me from doing it, mind you, but enough to worry me.

I get a fair amount of hate mail as it is.

The most consistent bunch that email me are the closet english teachers.

They all start their emails the same way.

“I am not an english teacher, but-”

The one thing none of them have ever written was “will my writing you make any difference?”

The answer is no.

If anything, my belligerent side kicks up and I find myself adding 1-2 more grammatical mistakes of the same sort, just to be a dick.

As I have said before, its important to have a hobby. Fucking with people is mine.

The second most consistent group that emails me to complain are the people who believe that if a subject is rude, inappropriate or politically incorrect, you should not mention it.

This “Stick your head in the sand and it will go away” philosophy has worked so well in every other facet of their lives, why not share the love.

Confrontation is not a polite way of doing things, but it does get shit done.

Maybe its not the slickest way of handling things, but there are less things keeping me up late at night because of it.

Just wanted to get all of that off of my chest.

Or out of my ass, as it were.

 
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Posted by on November 18, 2013 in Uncategorized

 

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