Friday, November 12, 2004

Exit Strategy

I am preparing to wage The Mother of All Assaults on my constipation. I am broadcasting this because based on the conduct of the American military command, who told everyone and their balls that the U.S. was going to attack Fallujah, I now believe it is the proper protocol to give my enemy (my intestinal track and my rectum) fair warning that the fury of hell is headed their way. Smoke ‘em if you’ve got ‘em, boys.

I will soften the command and control center of my constipation with the special forces of dietary overhaul. I had fish tacos with lots of black beans at lunch today, and I have drunk enough water today to create a man-made lake right there at Evans World Headquarters.

Once those initial targets are neutralized, I’ll call in the cavalry to finish the job. The cavalry in this case is the ammo I bought this afternoon: stool softeners, laxatives, milk of magnesia, high fiber cereals, Metamucil, a plunger, a 100-yard garden hose, a weed whacker, four fence posts, a large blue plastic tarp, a box of steel wool, a mule, a GPS tracking device, three rolls of duct tape and two day laborers I picked up in front of The Home Depot. How do you say “Get down! She’s gonna blow!” in Spanish?

This offensive is being launched now because the enemy is growing too strong, too resolute, too absolutely rank to let it fester any longer. Constipation means hard stools, which means gas, which means public scorn. Were this problem given any more life, I would be banished to the backyard with Weak-Bladdered Dog, where I would drink from a stainless steel bowl and scratch at the back door when I was ready to come in for the night.

Of course, war is not waged without casualties. There will be no McGriddles for a while, and probably no Starbucks banana loaf cake either. The day laborers may not be seen again and their families may be left to wonder what became of them. I hope they are able to take solace in the fact that their loved ones perished fighting for a noble cause. That cause: my ability to evacuate my bowels like a normal human being, without the pity of the man in the stall next to me, without the desperate squeezing of noses by the people next to me at the fish taco place, and without Hot Wife’s ongoing requirement that I take my stinky ass out of the bed and go sleep on the couch.

As we prepare for battle, we recall the rally cry of the American armed forces: "Ours is not to question why. Ours is just to do or die. Or smell really bad."

(I added that last part myself.)

To the special forces and the cavalry, I wish you Godspeed. And to the enemy, I admonish you to get out of my ass so I can flush you like the shit that you are.


At 2:21 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

Okay, I'll bite:

You're gonna smoke em' outta their holes, right?

At 5:21 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

Between you, Dooce, and my husband (who either has horrible constipation or just the opposite, the kind that makes you race home after a great dinner and end the lovely night on a not-so-positive and romantic note), I have had plenty of lower gastro-intestinal news to last me ten lifetimes. Thank you for making me I don't have to just laugh at my husband anymore!

At 5:38 PM, Blogger Sleeping Mommy said...

Before I got married it never occurred to me to discuss the activities of my colon or rectum. Then the man of my dreams entered my life...sigh. HA!

Now, sometimes I wonder how I reached the point in my life where I felt compelled to share with the hubby the size consistency and shape of poop. It's to the point where I send him gems like your post and of course Dooce's diatribes.

At 6:29 PM, Blogger honestyrain said...

this one's really good. love it.

dude, eat better, will ya?

At 4:15 AM, Blogger Jacqueline said...

I thought the McGriddle caused the runs? Wouldn't that help constipation? ::shrugs::

At 12:48 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

Hang on a minute, I might have a cure for you:

At 5:11 PM, Blogger Lexagirl said...

Hope the it-shay ams-scray before you need and enema-ay!

At 6:45 AM, Blogger Lala said...

Three words - raw sweet potato

try it, just don't get on a city bus for a half hour commute right after eating a couple of pieces.

At 9:53 AM, Blogger Shiz said...

Fresh cherries, probably dried cherries as well, or, according to my husband, no sugar added chocolate, do the trick.


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