August 22, 2006: Guest entry

“I do my best thinking on the can.”
--Aristotle

Hi. My name is Kevin, and I’m writing this blog entry for all of you trusty Lindsay followers straight from the comfortable confines of my porcelain throne. I would prefer to be in my bedroom, or even the living room, but my stomach has had other ideas. I had the idea for a guest spot on Lindsay’s blog a little while back when I realized that she’s been feeding you all boring, mindless drivel on a regular basis. The only problem was that I was unsure of what to discuss with you. Since I have nothing really substantive or useful to say, and since I’ve spent something like 50 hours in the bathroom in the last week, I figured I’d share with you some of the thoughts that have crossed my mind during that time. Anyways, without further ado…

I have a cousin named Billy Rabbit who is a phenomenal pooper. He has no qualms going anywhere at anytime. He could be visiting the house of a girlfriend for the first time and he’d have no problem blowing up the can within the first ten minutes of being there. If he has to go, he’s going. It’s inspirational, really. With that said, Billy does have one phobia related to his dumping dynamics: he’s really afraid he’ll clog the toilet. What he does to counteract this is he throws out the toilet paper instead of flushing it down the toilet. I used to think this, although a rather intelligent response to his fear, was a pretty fucking gross alternative. Well, I no longer feel this way. You see, everyone in Peru does this. I haven’t done much traveling before now, and this non-TP flushing is probably a more common practice than I had previously thought. It is still pretty nasty seeing a garbage can full of used TP, but I don’t think it’s nearly as strange and gross as I used to. Anyways, I think of Billy every time I use the john for this very reason.

Is there a diet out there where people abuse laxatives? If not, there should be. I think I’ve lost ten pounds or so via the bathroom over the last week. I also think this would be a better means of losing weight, as opposed to bulimia and anorexia. Shit your way to a sexier you. I really think this could work.

You know those potato chips that have no fat which girls have sick addictions to? The ones that supposedly taste the same (I don’t recall ever having them, so I can’t tell you if they do) as regular chips, yet aren’t unhealthy? Well, the ingredient in them that allows them to keep the taste without the bad health factors is this thing called olestera. You may have heard of it. Well, on the bag of chips is a disclaimer that says that olestera causes loose stool. Yah, and girls eat these things like they’re laced with heroin. There was nothing worse than sitting in line at the cafeteria in college behind a hot girl, only to then see that she was buying nine bags or so of these chips. Pretty gross.

I’m a pretty bad Spanish speaker. I’m getting better every day, but I was really horrible at the start. Because of this, I missed and continue to miss a lot of crucial information that my host family is trying to tell me. One thing that I did not miss, was that my host family’s house has a funny rule about their bathrooms. There are two bathrooms, but one of them is used solely for pissing purposes. How did I pick up this information on my first day, you ask? Well, it seems that the terms “number 1” and “number 2” are somewhat universal. When my host mom pointed at the first bathroom and said “solo numero uno” and then at the other saying “uno y dos,” even a big dumb animal like me could understand that. I’m not sure if these terms span the globe, but I’m sure glad they’ve made their way down to South America. To the inventor of these terms, I tip my cap. Oh, and I have yet to figure out why only one bathroom is for dumps. My Spanish is still pretty fucking bad.

While we’re on the subject of bathroom lingo that transcends language barriers, let’s talk about T.P. Toilet paper is called papel higienico down here in Peru (and probably other Spanish speaking countries as well). If you want some good old-fashioned papel higienico, guess how you ask for it: P.H. (pronounced “pay achay” for you non Spanish speakers like myself). Again, I’m not sure if it’s a worldwide phenomenon to acronymize (what?) the words for toilet paper, but it would be cool if it was.

Diarrhea is a facilitator of change. Seriously, it is. For as long as I can remember, I’ve been a nail biter. It was pretty bad, too (not in terms of technique, mind you, since my form was rather exemplary…I’m just saying I did it a lot). Well, ever since I’ve been spending the better part of the working day in the loo, I’ve begun examining my living habits in order to extract the exact cause of my stomach woes. In doing this, I thought a lot about nail biting. I always knew that it was a bad habit and pretty fucking gross, but that was never enough to stop me from chomping away. Well, since the runs have entered my life I’ve been pretty conscious of everything that enters my mouth (insert joke about male reproductive organs here). Because of this, I no longer can shrug off the unhealthy aspects of biting off one’s fingernails, and I have since stopped this horribly disgusting habit. So, I just want to say thank you, diarrhea. You’ve changed my life for the better.

Well, it seems that my stomach is going to give me a few minutes of downtime, so I will no longer provide you with mind-blowing thoughts such as the ones featured above. Actually, I’ll probably be back in a few minutes, and I’m sure to have more useless crap (pun intended) to share. In the meantime, I’m going to Billy Rabbit, wash up, and see what the host family is up to. I’ve been in the bano with a computer for the last half hour, so I’m sure that they are more than just a little freaked out. Happy hopping everybody, and remember, there’s no such thing as a one wiper.

- Kevin

p.s. This is actually Lindsay. I just didn’t want to freak anybody out with my nauseating bathroom routines. Please, don’t judge me.