A Defecation Explanation

The United States may need its own poopy metaphoric explanations in the near future. 

After taking some of the biggest natural disaster hits of a lifetime in Japan, the country is dealt another awesome hand that comes in the form of the radiation leaking out of cracked reactors in Japan's Fukushima Daiichi nuclear power plant, which emergency crews are working around the clock to fix it. Fukushima doesn't seem that distant with the San Onofre Nuclear plant so close. But with so much horror and disaster around the uncertain of whether the seawater and boron mixtures that the emergency crews are using to core the reactors core down, and evacuations; how would it feel to be someone living in Fukushima or Japan trying to comprehend the massiveness of what is happening? How would you even begin to explain this to a child of Fukushima? 

The Pile High Club

Are you part of The Pile High Club? Have you ever fired that Tom Cruise missile at over 35,000 feet? The answer is usually a "yes" but this is the type of questions I think I need to start asking strangers when I first meet them. 

In chapel today, I found myself meeting a friend of a friend named Chris. My friend introduced me to him and it was my perfect opportunity to get a few questions from a real stranger. I slid on over to the set next to him and started a little conversation. He asked me my major and year and I responded. Then I knew it was time for the big question... "Are you in the Pile High Club?" 

There was a slight pause then he responded with, "Yes I am, who isn't these days?"

My heart settled and I was very relieved. Right then and there I felt a deep connection between Chris and I. It was something special. I felt that he had understood me and he had never even met me before. I answered back with,

"Exactly! If you are not in the club you are a scrub."

The next question that came from this was pertaining to the structure of the airplane toilets. This struck me as very interesting topic because I have always wondered but never explored the function of the toilets. 

"How crazy is that amazing flush?" I asked

"Absolutely amazing. The fact that press that plastic button and a vacum vortex sucks the poop down at mach 3 speed. There is no such thing as a clog in The Pile High Club." 

A thought-provoking answer right there. This led us into a discussion about where the dookie-doo actually goes. We both agreed that we used to think that It just fell straight out of the plane and just disappeared into the air. Thus we both ended up agreeing that it must go to a holding tank somewhere on the plane. We figured that gravity, distance, and atmospheric pressure could lead to some serious damage down on earth. 

I felt like this conversation was way deeper than any philosophical conversation I have ever had. Maybe these are the questions I need to ask right away when I meet someone. Maybe it will lead straight into the connection that Chris and I experienced. (Or the connection I experienced- he might of not felt the same way.) These are the kind of friendships that are formed through The Pile High Club. These are the type of questions that are formed through The Pile High Club. So next time you are a mile high, think about getting a membership. 

Roses Really Smell like Poo-oo-oo

"I know you'd like to thank your POOP don't stank
 But lean a little bit closer
 See that roses really smell like poo-oo-ooo"

We all know Outkast said it perfectly in their song, Roses, which hit the scene in 2003. Caroline thinks she is mighty fine. We all know who that Caroline is in our lives. 

I just heard that song today and was comprehending the symbolic meaning of Caroline's poop smelling like roses. But if I take it back a few years and remember when I first heard that song; I feel like my thought process was that women's poop actually does smell like roses. And more and more after that I found that it seemed to be a common idea that women's poop does actually smell of roses. I also feel that some women actually think that THEIR poop really does smell a lot like a rose!  But where did this phrase, "Poop smells of Roses" come from? 

This idea of poop having an odor of Roses actually goes back way before Outkast was even rapping Mrs. Jackson. (that was a long time ago.) The saying that women's feces smelling like a dozen roses dates all the way back to 981 A.D. in the Western Europe region of Burgundy. As I mentioned before in a previous post, toilet paper had not hit the scene yet in Burgundy and leaves were still the good ol' tool for cleaning the caboose. Back then, the girls seemed to have more delicate skin that needed some different treating when it came to the cleaning. So before Caroline existed, Queen of Burgundy and Empress of the Holy Roman Empire, Adelaide, decided she was too good for leaves and plucked some nice roses to sooth her bum. Next thing you know, Adelaide spread the word to the women of Burgundy that roses are the best Zomboni to their Ice and all of the women started doing it. From there, once men got the first whiff on their women's behinds and loved it, they started to brag about how their women's poop smelt like roses. 

We all know that Adelaide in our lives. That one girl who just thinks her poop smells like a bushel of roses. That one girl who needs a golden calculator to divide. But even if we know that woman who thinks her poop really does smell like roses... the real question still is, do women actually even poop in the first place? 

A Simple Wipe

There are so many simple things we seem to take for granted in this life. What would life be without a toothbrush or bed? A world without clothes? I guess that would not be too bad. Or imagine a world where you butt is not offered that soft wipe after you free the legless dog into the sea? It is Toilet Paper. That sweet, soft, silky, paper that provides that TLC for the hinney.


The first signs of the goodness came from Joseph C. Gayetty of New York started producing the first packaged toilet paper in the U.S. in 1857. It consisted of pre-moistened flat sheets medicated with aloe and was named "Gayetty’s Medicated Paper". (The History of Toilet paper) Before that, what did humans use? Well, it was grass, leaves, fur, and even stones. Or possibly the left hand?


There are so many different assortments of toilet paper: quilted, extra soft, double, and scented. And these assortments of paper must seem like such a routine, simple task that we seem to take for granted as humans. But next time you are on your throne pulling out those sheets of fluffy snow to keep your bum clean, take a moment of silence. Take a moment of silence for the ancestors who suffered with chaffed cabooses for years so that we could experience a simple wipe. A simple wipe of glory.

Operation Drop the Kids off at the Pool

Moving bowels and the Borrego Springs heat can be dangerous mixtures that can make one do some crazy things. It can even make one disregard social standards to get a job done. 

Over the three-day weekend two friends and I decided to embark on a random, spur of the moment camping trip out in the desert. Next thing you know we are running through slot canyons and exploring the wild desert. Cooking hot-dogs on sticks and knocking back some Lunchables kept my stomach satisfied for the two-day trip.  

As we headed home it hit all of us in the car that we had not pooped in three days. We were all loaded, cocked back, and ready to shoot and something had to be done about it. The briefing was assigned, and we knew had to find a bathroom. Keep in mind, we are passing through the small, “desert gem,” Borrego Springs with a population of 2 Grandmas. There are not many places to stop. But we do see something that looks like it could be a town center or town mall. We knew that had to be the drop zone. 

Like a swat team pursuing a bank robbery we busted out of the car and tactically swarmed around the building to the back of the building to where the bathrooms are. My friend is right in front of me and we spot the men’s bathroom logo on a single door. He kicks down the door like a detective and closes it behind it. He left me standing there behind the men's single bathroom door, prairie-dogging it with no one but a friend around me Borrego staring at the miles of desert behind me with no one in site. As I danced around doing the Aztec two-step, I stopped and took one look at the single women’s bathroom door. I knew what I had to do. I had to do it. It was the only way without failing the task at hand. I turned to my friend and asked,

“Call me crazy, but what do you think about me crashing into that women’s bathroom and dropping some Chubacca Chuncks?”

My friend replied, “Dude we are in Borrego, no one is around.”

With the conformation I therefore rammed the women’s single toilet bathroom and dropped trou. I really let it go and it was ground zero. The smell was horrendous and the sight was even worse. 

Towards the end of the operation and almost feeling full relief, I could hear women’s voice outside the door. A sense of pure terror went through my brain. Then off in the distance I could hear the voice of at least three more women. I knew right then and there, I was caught.

There was only one way out and I had to take it. I washed my hands and slowly opened the door. As the smell bellowed out behind me, I looked at a women’s face right out side the door, staring at me, giving me a look of fear, then a look of disgust as the waft caught her nose. 

Sometimes to compete a mission, rules have to be bent and social norms have to be forgotten and you can't think twice about it. Especially when you are in Borrego. 

Here it is.

Welcome to the blog.

Lets do this.

Love,


Taylor