Don’t Judge Me by This Entry

Today, on this 232nd day in this “Age of Diddy,” I awoke to take a bowel movement of frightening proportions. (I have only myself to blame since I ate El Pollo Loco last night. Once you choose to eat at a place called The Crazy Chicken, you relinquish any rights to complain about stomach consequences.)

However, during said B.M., I realized something. Everyone on this planet has at one time or another excreted something from their ass that has given them pause. I am talking about everyone from Victoria Secret models to US Presidents to common crack addicts. They all have that one thing in common. They have all stopped in their tracks, stared at their own ass-spawn and wondered, “Where the hell did that shit came from?” Financial status, political power or international fame will not protect you from a fierce crap.

I can’t think of anything else exactly like that – that secret, undignified unifying x-factor.

The closest concept that I could come was the notion that everyone probably has had sex (with or without a partner) someplace they shouldn’t have. Just someplace wrong. Like the couch in the living room. At work. The commuter train from Philly to Boston. Woj’s bed.

(By the way, that was Dan, Dan, Dan & Dan - all sans partner.)

Now, please, don’t judge me by quality of this journal entry. Instead, judge me by the ferocity of my excrement and the strange places that I got my swerve on. (I want that on my headstone, by the way.) Those are the things that unite us. Not our blog entries.

wojr  ¶ 5:40 PM