Wet Dreams

I’m never one to analyze my dreams unless it’s something weird like giving birth, chewing gum sticking to the roof of my mouth or not being able to run away from danger. Apparently, I pop babies out pretty easily, but trying to scrape off chewing gum that’s melted all over the roof of my mouth and my teeth or running away from a murderer literally paralyzes me. I haven’t found one person that relates to me on the gum dream, so I turned to the Interwebs to learn that apparently, I’m having trouble digesting or processing something…ain’t that ironic?! Many people I’ve spoken to have had the “inability to run away from danger” dream. That one represents unconscious frustration or anxiety with a situation. I hate that dream because it causes me physical aches and pain, which signals to me that I am, in fact, dreaming, causing even more stress and anxiety.

Another dream that causes major stress and anxiety for me is having the urge to pee. A recurring dream of mine is having to piss myself with only the most disgusting bathroom available to me. Every fucking time, I am faced with a toilet that is so high that the option to hover is unavailable to my 5 foot [and 2 inches] ass. Additionally, the toilet is overflowing with toilet paper and piss. The water is running and the seat is covered in piss in every single stall! I always make an effort to hover anyway, and start tinkling only to have urine trickle down my thighs and someone else’s urine kiss the back of my knees. I never get to fully relieve myself and the frustration just keeps building. It is at this point that I usually wake up completely relieved that I did not relieve myself in my sheets.

So what does this mean? According to Dreammoods.com, it could symbolize a pun on my “pissy” attitude, a release of negative or repressed emotions, lack of self-worth, I’m about to have an emotional outburst, or perhaps I’m trying to mark my territory. Maybe all of the above? I guess we’ll find out soon, since I had this dream again last week…

The Festival Poo

Talk about pooping at music festivals has come up a lot this past week. I guess it’s getting to be that time of year. One of my favorite clients just returned from the Envision Festival in Costa Rica. I’d like to think I can hang with dirty hippies, but everything about this festival looks like sheer smelly torture. At least 100 festival-goers left with a souvenir called E. Coli. So needless to say, the bathroom situation was dire. I imagine the attendees of this festival believe in a goods-exchange economy, where only goods or services are exchanged rather than money. So what does the dude cleaning the Porta-John get?  I suppose…E.Coli….and a hug?

So what is a girl to do when you can’t stop peeing out of your ass while sharing a tent constructed over wet soil. My first suggestion is to never put yourself in this shitty situation, but should you find yourself making bad decisions, carry a bottle of activated charcoal with you and some bread (but don’t get pissed when you find your tent-mate eating your bread sprinkled with some hallucinogenics). Also, get a colonic before leaving for your trip. My friend did as such and only got mildly sick compared to her friends. She got another colonic upon her return to get rid of whatever bug was still lurking in her system and left feeling brand new.

The truth is no one (including myself) wants to take a shit in a Porta John. Faced with a Porta John as my only option, I opt out. There’s something unappealing about dropping my lifestyle evidence on top of a collection of shit slowly fossilizing in a solution of blue chemicals. And there’s always the fear of being flipped over while trapped inside. That, my friend, has happened to someone of two degrees separation at a music festival where there were at least 100 Porta Johns, so by no means is this scenario an impossibility.

I’d rather dig a hole and cover my tracks…

 

All Points West Festival
The All Points West music festival in 2009. This was one of my favorite annual music festivals. I vote to bring it back especially since I would be able to run home if I needed to take a shit.

 

 

Fart Basel Miami 2015

Art Basel Miami – one of the world’s biggest art shows for art collectors and spectators alike – just wrapped up its 13th annual show complete with art, swanky parties, stabbings, and such….but don’t worry, @FartBasel has got you covered…

What you know about my GREEN FART SQUAD!? ☘ #kimsimonson #fartbasel #artbasel

A photo posted by Fart Basel (@fartbasel) on

HOLD THE PHONE: @deandeluca is literally cutting the cheese. #FARTBASEL win ??? A photo posted by Fart Basel (@fartbasel) on

META ? #regram @carlstwitt

A photo posted by Fart Basel (@fartbasel) on

SHIT JUST GOT REAL. ? (Stabbing at the fair #regram @jerrysaltz) A photo posted by Fart Basel (@fartbasel) on

Moving Toilets and Whatnot.

I’ve made it safely to Lobitos, Peru, but not without any bathroom issues. Bathroom problems only leave room for solutions and blog material, so I welcome a good bathroom challenge. I hope to enlighten you.

Getting to Lobitos entails a 19 hour bus ride from Lima with no bathroom stops, subjecting passengers to the moving toilet on board. The toilet is in very tight quarters and the floor is definitely wet. Your best bet in this situation is to wait for any stops. We had only a few stops on this trip, of which we were only allowed to exit once to use a different bathroom. However, for the less fortunate who must succumb to using the moving toilet, be prepared. You’ll definitely want to carry a natural hand sanitizer made with a natural alcohol that you can find at your local health food store because you do not want to use the nasty water from the sink. Also, be prepared for a lack of toilet paper. Bring in any napkins you can get your hands on from a rest stop or bus station to build your TP toilet seat cushion because you will find yourself sitting on the moving toilet whether or not you want to. The napkins also come in handy as a sort of glove because you will find yourself holding onto the bathroom door handle for stability. Once you are finished with your business, inch yourself as close to the door as possible while holding the handle in case the bus throws you back down onto the now uncovered toilet, and pull your pants up with your loose hand, steering clear of the wet toilet seat. I survived the moving toilet without incident. I definitely do not recommend trying to hover over a moving toilet because it really just adds unnecessary anxiety. And don’t drink the coffee they may serve in the morning because passengers are only allowed to go #1.

Once I arrived in Lobitos, I almost immediately had to take a crap right after lunch. Here at Waves For Development (the organization where I’m volunteering), water conservation is second nature. I’ve been here once before, so I already know the deal with not running the shower water, taking short showers and flushing it down only if its brown. I was quickly punished for flushing the toilet before pooping. I just wanted to have a good first clean dump sans OPP (other people’s piss) splashing back up on my butt since I hadn’t gone the day before. I wasn’t going to make a habit of it. But of course the toilet would not flush. So I disguised my poop with two sheets of toilet paper as a courtesy to my four roommates without knowing that toilet paper cannot be flushed because it clogs the septic system. I only learned that right afterward during orientation. So I tried to stay calm knowing I would possibly have to fish the toilet paper out. I discreetly expressed my concerns to the orientation leader who told me I probably just needed to fill up the tank, which I could easily do with the sink water. Upon returning over an hour later, the toilet flushed with ease, so I didn’t have to worry about that, but it always helps to know what to do in case of a water shortage. If you ever come across a shortage of water, just open up the tank on the back of the toilet and fill it up with water you will probably have to purchase until you see that black balloon thing float. Voila.

The Airplane Poo.

I’m at the airport squeezing in one last blog post before my flight to Peru, and hopefully soon squeezing out a nice juicy log before boarding time. As I sit here in the lavish business center I think I just snuck into, I can’t help but think about that one time I actually took a crap on a plane. It was two years ago and I was being reacquainted with those miserable menstrual cramps I hadn’t experienced since high school. The link between menstruation and defecation is made in a recent blog post. This connection between bowel and uterus is ever so evident to me when I get these crushing menstrual pains. I instantly feel like I’m going to both vomit and crap myself, but it’s usually just the latter.

As soon as the plane began to ascend, I started getting the sweats and felt so light headed like the plane was lifting my body, but leaving my blood supply on the ground. My veins felt like they were being drained and I was losing all color in my face, taking me from the Sahara to the Antarctic in a matter of seconds. The stewardess asked me if I was going to throw up and I didn’t really know what to say. She was literally annoying the crap out of me. I ran to the bathroom, quickly made my toilet TP cover and took a fiery lava dump in an almost waterless toilet. And to paint an even more disgusting image for all you germ phobes, I rested my head on the sink! It’s funny how little these things (i.e. germs, people witnessing you spend 45 minutes on the toilet, etc) matter when you’re just not feeling well and maybe they shouldn’t matter at all because I left the gnarly airplane bathroom feeling brand new.

 

Cover Or Hover?

Once again, my mother is to blame for my paranoia. She has had almost complete control of my bathroom habits for the first half of my life thus far. It was with her that I first experienced the luxury of a public restroom, but not without fear of contracting a life-threatening virus. She showed me the proper way to cover a toilet seat by creating a comfy toilet paper pillow (2 layers of toilet paper, quickly achieved by folding over the toilet paper) covering every inch of exposed porcelain. My sheer laziness has forced me to evolve into a hoverer. But as my dad says, “Lazy people work twice as hard.” And to his credit, hovering sure has (albeit inadvertently) given me some strong legs.

But for those who just don’t care, you won’t really catch anything from sitting on a public toilet seat unless there’s a contaminated needle sitting on it. I will always remember my college roommate plopping her perfect little bare booty directly on a public toilet seat at the football stadium. I could not believe my eyes. This girl, who I lived with for three years, is the biggest clean freak, but apparently not as anal retentive as I thought. She has not contracted gonorrhea, AIDS, crabs, or herpes, or hepatitis to date. Your kitchen sink is probably filthier than her butt cheeks.

Resources: Lauren, WebMD, Straight Dope

The 60 Percent.

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In observance of Holy Week, I would like to point out a modern day blessing: the public restroom. For most parts of the USA, we not only have access to toilets in our home, but in our parks, schools, stores, cafes, restaurants, etc. It’s hard to imagine a world where we cannot relieve ourselves in the case of an emergency, but that world exists.

The United Nations has declared November 19th, World Toilet Day, in an effort to create awareness of the misfortunes that stem from toilet-free third world conditions. Not having a place to pee or poop is not really a concern of mine (not on a dire basis anyway), but it is for 40% of the world’s population. Much of Asia and Africa do not have access to toilets, proper sanitation and/or water treatment. This has resulted in cholera outbreaks due to filthy drinking water contaminated with fecal matter. Also, many girls in these countries are dropping out of school once they start menstruating because of the shame and the danger associated with finding a place to handle their business.

So let’s respect this divine gift we call the public restroom that we all take for granted. The public toilet was invented so that we, ladies, do not have to worry about pissing ourselves, bleeding all over ourselves, getting diseases, or even worse, getting raped while we’re trying to take a dump in the woods. Public restrooms are designed to free us from worry. So at the very least, we most certainly should not be worrying about whether or not the stalls are clean. I’ve said it before, and I’ll keep saying it until I no longer feel the need to sanitize the toilet seat before sitting down: Lady is as lady does. 

Respect your bowels. Respect the public restroom.

Resources: United Nations, Toilet Hackers, Who Gives a Crap

The Window of Opportunity.

We only get a small window of opportunity in which to take advantage of nature’s call. I urge you to never ever ignore or even delay the calling. I am definitely guilty of ignoring the calling while I’m working, especially during those early morning colonic appointments right after my coffee, but I pride myself in my professionalism. So I try to stay focused on whatever my client is talking about instead of replaying the GIF in my head of booking it to the powder room to relieve myself, leaving my client stuck (literally). So I just power through the next few minutes because I recognize how fleeting the urge usually is. I fool myself into thinking I’m using the nature of nature’s call against itself and that the feeling will return later upon my command, but who am I kidding? Nature is a big tease.

Respect the call of doody. Respect your bowels.

Never Hold It In!!

It took me much of my adolescence to overcome my fear of any unexpected self-inflicted bodily violence in the form of food rejecting barf or explosive diarrhea. As a child, every time I threw up, I would immediately cry. Perhaps it was the feeling of hot lava burning my esophagus followed by the aftertaste of a spoiled spaghetti sauce and stomach bile cocktail that I found so traumatizing. But who’s to say? I’m so happy bulimia could have never worked out for me! Diarrhea was the same story. It wouldn’t drive me to tears, but I would hold it in until I turned green. I was terrified of diarrhea because it would burn my a*hole as it exited, coloring the entire toilet with toxic excrement full of identifiable food particles, while exuding a foul odor that could penetrate bricks and mortar. No thank you.

But my mother’s constant reassurance that I would feel better after either throwing up or exploding on the toilet is what allowed me to finally heed my body’s warnings. I even admire diarrhea now for its hurricane speed and the instant relief in its aftermath. I don’t understand anymore why anyone would want to stop or delay this act of God by taking Pepto-Bismol or Imodium when a solution to one’s ills can be had with just an express trip to the bathroom! Just make sure to always carry a book of matches (AKA air fresheners) in your purse.

shit anywhere matches

Who Do You Trust?

I remember the first time I talked about poop with a girlfriend better than I remember the first time I had sex (unfortunately, I think girls invest more anxiety into the former rather than the latter). This grade school friend of mine was in the bathroom with me and made fun of me for looking at the toilet paper to make sure it was clear after wiping my rear. In retrospect, she’s the freaking weirdo that just trusts her “feel”. She claimed she would just wipe until it felt raw. Sometimes I am most certain that the paper I just wiped my rear with will come back clean only to be deceived by my “feel” of the circumstances, and thus relieved I didn’t pull my underwear back up. But don’t worry, that girl and I stopped being friends as I obviously can no longer trust her judgement.

Luckily, I have a brother. We’d talk about length, girth, clog worthiness and how much weight we think we’d lost after a “nice juicy dump.” I think it’s important to have a family member to talk to about this when growing up. It’s clearly a major part of physical, mental and social development.

A client yesterday told me she has a crazy awesome aunt in California whose plumbing went out one night, so she was forced to poop in a bucket. Her aunt called her to laugh about the situation in which she was forced to go outside to throw out her own poop only to get stuck talking to the neighbors, poop in hand.  Keep in mind, she has no dog. But what she was really excited to tell her niece about was how surprised she was at the weight of her dump. It was REALLY heavy!! Cool, right?!! Now that’s an Auntie I can trust.