Prairie Doggin' It

My friend Fire Hydrant had me in stitches the other day. You need to be careful using the phrase “I dare you” with him as 99.9% of the time he will take you up on it. Like the vivacious hosts of Girls Behaving Badly (NOT Girls Gone Wild) he will do things just to get a reaction and the more outrageous, the better. He calls them societal experiments and I have to say they are good fun to witness.

The other day he deliberately stuck a trail of toilet paper in his shoe and walked down the street to see if anyone would point this out. Sadly, no one did. His ex was there to observe (even he wouldn’t walk with him) and enjoyed the laugh.

This got me to thinking about my own toilet paper mishap. Being an eager beaver (hee hee, I said beaver) I am always enrolled in one course or another trying to learn a little about this and that. Not so long ago I was taking an interior decorating course (shock) at my old Alma Mater (I’m an Upper Richmond boy you see, it’s really top drawer) when I had to urge to go to the lavatory.

If I have to sit, I much prefer to do it at home, but one must do what nature has called one to do when nature calls them to do it. Before sitting, as is my custom, I gave the seat a good wipe, lay two rows of TP down the sides and one across the back. Finishing what had to be done, I wiped, zipped, flushed and returned to class. We did some group work and these two girls kept drawing a little stick man with what looked like a tail and laughing. Silly girls I thought. Once class was over, I started up the street to meet the Pink Lady at a local watering hole for a night cap (or six). Upon entering the bar, which was packed just for the record, I scouted out a couple seats, dumped my satchel and removed my coat.

Just as I was about to park my keister and order a beer, the bartender, who thankfully was a friend of mine, scurried over and told me I needed “to go to the bathroom right away.” Apparently one piece of my seat protector had stuck to my butt and remained with me from the bathroom, back to class (apparently the stick man was me and the ‘tail’ was my TP), up the street and into the bar – great. Oh well, at least it was clean and people know I am hygienic.

This next TP story is modified with regards to the circumstances and the names changed to protect the innocent. My friend (and I really mean that, it is NOT me saying “I have this friend blah blah blah”) went to see his ‘doctor’ for his annual physical. The appointment was later in the afternoon and my friend has a VERY cute doctor and wanted to make sure he was clean for the turn-your-head-and-cough test. Going into the restroom at the office he found he had little choice for cleaning implements. Making do with what he had, he moistened a ball of TP in the sink and gave his undercarriage a good rub.

Test complete and clean bill of health issued, he gave the good doctor a wink and headed off to the gym. After a bit of exercise he hit the shower and was horrified, now armed with proper cleaning facilities, to discover several little clumps of toilet paper twisted up in his butt hair! Yuck. And people laugh at me for clipping.