My blog was born on the same day as my brother. But in different years. Cause they’ didn’t have blogs in ‘82. Well, they sort of did, but they were called journals, and you didn’t put them up in a public place for everybody to read. Well, I guess Martin Luther sort of put up the first blog post when he nailed his 95 theses to the church door at Wittenburg in 1517. But that has nothing to do with my post about poop.
But first let’s get this happy crappy blogiversary anniversiblog blogersaniverseray blogtherday birgothday boggerdothday daggoggerbayger shmeltronifficate scabbleactrix frundoo out of the way.
Happy birthday to blog! Let’s try not to be as shitty this year! No? Okay then!*
Now down to some real birthday stuff. This story is part of my gift to my brother. I will be editing his comments as I see fit.
When I was about 3 or 4 years old, my brother would have been on the verge of 2 or so. My mom had us all in the bathtub for a good scrubbin’ because we were filthy kids. We had our toys in there with us, and all was right with the world. Well, at least all was right with the world with me. My little brother must have decided that he needed more toys because out of nowhere appeared two glistening turds floating in the water of the bathtub.
As he reached for his own feces I leapt from the bathtub and let out a blood-curdling scream. I knew that I needed to make as much space between that ass-chocolate and my body as quickly as I possibly could. I tried to scrambled out of the bathtub, but I was naked and wet, and my parents had yelled at us before for spilling water all over the bathroom floor. Instead I clamored onto the two outcroppings at the top of the bathtub where the tub met the wall. I had my feet planted and my arms spread to balance myself.
Meanwhile my little brother sat happily in the tub playing Dookie Boat Commander. He was apparently amused at the reaction it got out of me because he continued to show no revulsion at the idea that he was playing with two pieces of stinkfruit that he had just birthed.
My mom eventually came and rescued me, but I’m not sure what ever happened to the little turd factory. What of it broseph? Were you sad when Mom made you flush your friends?
*The blog was actually born on the 27th, but I don’t blog on the weekends.
