Tuesday, July 27, 2010

All the Cool Kids Do It

Half mock-exasperated, half serious, he beseeches us all: "Why does it always come back around to this?"

I just sit and smile, with my fingers across my lips; I don't want to blurt it out and ruin it; I don't want to tell him what I know is quite obvious.

It always comes back to poop.




My life, post-cancer, revolves around all things colonic. I can't help myself. It is just how I (and my bowels) roll now.

I remember when I had just had my surgery, the biggest question of the day after 'How's your pain level?' was 'Did you fart yet?'

Apparently, in a hospital setting, flatulence is an event to be celebrated. Like Bastille Day. Or Oktoberfest. If I say yes, do I maybe get a party hat? Leiderhosen?

Alright - small disclosure here. I can get completely sucked into a mob mentality.

It got to the point where I enthusiastically jumped on board to give out periodic "Poot Watch" reports. Not gonna lie - I got excited by my rumblings. I wanted to be that people pleaser.

"So hey, come here... guess what just happened?"

"I know, right?? TOTALLY cool!!"

"If you stand right there, no a little over, you can still feel the breeze. It's like a Spring zephyr..Glade will be calling soon. I'll tell them you just can't bottle perfection."

"I know - I'm happy, too. Really. Thrilled. Can I have some jello now? Dude, it's been like 3 days since I ate..."

My current obsession is just an off-shoot of those times. An extension, as it were...

Back to AJ and his constant disgust at our table talk.

When both of our families get together for one huge breaking of the bread (in this case it was a spring roll), it is inevitable.

We are, 9 out of 10 - simply put - feces-centric.

This meal, however, is slightly different than our usual get-togethers. It isn't a religious holiday. It isn't merely a visit with out-of-towners.

This time, it is yet another kind of celebration; of costuming for a cause out in the summer sun, strolling hither and thither in our skivvies , bringing awareness to down-thereness at this year's Underwear Affair.

We celebrate because, under the banner of Semi-Colon Army*, we have raised enough funds to come second overall in our city's event this year.

As Captain (or Colon-el), I celebrate my team's effort and heart and soul.

As a team, we celebrate being that much closer to finding some real solutions to an insidious, soul-sucking disease.

And being Number 2?

It seems blithely poetic to me.

; ; ; ; ; ;

*refers to the fact that as a result of my surgery, I no longer possess an entire colon, only bibs and bobs** of the original.

** I may or may not, from time to time, refer to my internal lower 49 as Bob; this really is of no concern to you one way or another. You can save that for other more important matters at hand, like "what color lip gloss goes with these shoes?" , or "should I eat the chocolate chip cookie dough and the tub of icing I've stashed in the back of the freezer?"


CoffeeJitters (Judy Haley) said...

my dad used to say "farts are friends" when he was going through pancreatic cancer. we had a big cheer every time his tummy rumbled.

and an army friend said the best piece of advice he ever received was "never miss an opportunity to sleep, shit, or eat."

congratulations on your number two-ness and the wonderful work you and your team are doing.

These Nine Acres said...

I will remind my family that when I poot is should be a celebration.

I still don't think this will change their mind about my flatulence, but it is certainly worth a try.

Cormac Brown said...

Congratulations on your well-tooted near victoru and...wait, that doesn't sound quite...anyway, done.

Noe Noe Girl...A Queen of all Trades. said...

You Poot...I mean Rock!

Baroness von Bloggenschtern said...

Countess CJ: Farts ARE friends we make ourselves. As for the army friend's advice, I love it, and will quote it often. Believe you me, I can tell you where every washroom is EVERYWHERE I go. (too much?) Thanks for stopping by.

Countess TNA: You just say that I said so. Maybe you need to practice the little butt cheek pose that Nora taught us - this might be the missing element on your road to credibility!!

Count Cormac: Tooted/Touted. Hah! You are clever, sir.

Countess Nora: I can really go either way...;)

Meg @ Soup Is Not A Finger Food said...

Wow, congratulations on that superlative fundraising! And on being - and going - #2. Seriously. I mean it.
Oh, sorry. :-)

Anonymous said...

*Still laughing and mopping up spilled coffee, over here*

You GO, Girl! :)

foolery said...

So when Avis's slogan when they were the #2 car rental agency was "We Try Harder," does this mean I should picture them . . . trying to . . . oh, I can't go on. Congratulations on Being #2, Colon-el!

Baroness von Bloggenschtern said...

Countess of Soup: You say you are sorry, but I think you are not ;)

Countess Ti: Oh, I will. Often.

Countess Foolery: Silly Avis. A little bit of fibre would have helped that right out. I mean, helped the situation out. Like, if you call it a situation. Like, if you live on the Jersey Shore. But I think he means something different. But similar...

Mental P Mama said...

Reading this post actually activated my colon. Thank you.

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