I poop too much

I used to think everyone pooped once a day, about the same time every day, and that was normal, how it should be. But now I’m starting to re-think everything, because either everyone else is pooping way more than I originally thought, or there’s something wrong with me. Because I definitely poop more than once a day. And I’m getting tired of it.

Pooping, or ‘excreting waste’ for all you prim and proper people out there, is a natural bodily function, one necessary to sustain life (because I don’t know about you, but I don’t really want to explode and die because my poop backs up into all my other organs…or something like that). It’s a daily occurrence that happens to everyone, so I find it somewhat hilarious when people make a big deal about it or get super grossed out. I’m not saying you should go around announcing every time you’ve pooped (and I’m certainly not endorsing you writing about your experiences on your blog or anything…), because people don’t really need to know that kind of personal (wow, I just typed persoanal, haha get it? ugh) information about others, but there’s really no need to get all huffy and disgusted about the idea of someone else pooping, because, HELLO, you do it everyday, you hypocrite.

What I don’t understand is why I poop so frequently. I’ve noticed certain foods make me especially gassy and have the urge to use the toilet more than is necessary, but I’ve also noticed that even when I’m not eating anything out of the ordinary, I will still get that feeling (super annoying when you’re just trying to go about your day like any other). It’s not like I have a horrible diet and am just surviving off of super over-processed fast food and sugary beverages (okay, I like to indulge in a Coke every now and then, but that hardly counts). I don’t drink coffee and, unless I’m drinking the aforementioned Coke or the very rare Red Bull, I don’t drink caffeine, so why all this extra urge for turds? I tend to eat similar food on a weekly basis, so my body should be pretty used to the (mostly) nutritious food I’m so graciously providing it. Which just makes me conclude: I poop too much.

I swear, I have the bowels of an 80-year-old man. Babies don’t even poop this much.

I’m sure most of you are by now wondering “what is wrong with this lady? why is she writing a public blog post about her poop? does she have mental issues?” The answer would be yes, I do, but then again, no one is forcing you to read my weird works of nonfiction, so maybe you are the one with mental issues. If it bothers you that much, you should probably avoid my blog, because it will most likely only get weirder. But please don’t, because then I wouldn’t have any readers.


Filed under Entertainment, Humor, Society

It’s beginning to look a lot like…Halloween

Even though we’re still a few days out til October, the fall/Halloween season is basically already upon us (at least for an addict like me). To kick off my favorite time of year, my friends and I hit Sweet Fields Farm for their annual corn maze (despite the fact that they don’t offer night tours anymore, the jerks). Although, with the typical sketchy Florida weather, we almost. didn’t. get. to. go. Stupid rain. Apparently you’re not capable of walking through a corn maze if it’s raining (so dumb). But I willed the rain to stop (it was clearly my pleading, not the weather pattern, that cleared the skies) and we made it in with the last admission. And of course had a blast (how could you not in a corn maze?).

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Children of the corn.

Since living in Florida, fall and Halloween have never been quite the same. As someone who lives to be scared and spends their whole year waiting for this one month, I still find plenty of ways to get my scare on and get into the fall spirit, but it’s not like it was living up north, with the changing leaves and the cool, crisp nights, perfect for bonfires and hot chocolate and freezing your butt off while you’re trick-or-treating.

Oh, who am I kidding, who wants to be cold and miserable? I love Florida. I do miss things that were unique to Pennsylvania, like Mazezilla and The Hotel of Horror, but I’ve discovered a few Florida haunts that I’m hoping will pan out and turn into a yearly thing (more on that later). More than anything, I just want to go to a bunch of haunted houses, scream my head off often, watch a lot of terrifying movies and never have it be November 1st.

Also, please bring back my favorite Halloween commercial. K thanks.

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I am never getting out of bed again

There is nothing I hate more than getting up in the morning. It is literally the worst part of my day. Everyday. Except the weekends (obviously; who gets up early on the weekends?).

My alarm will go off early in the morning to wake me for work, and (after hitting snooze several times first), I will spend a few moments laying there, staring up at the ceiling, perusing all the reasonable excuses I could possibly use to not have to get up.

I could call in sick and go back to sleep.

I could just quit my job all together.

I could poison myself and never have to get up early again.

After a few minutes of wracking my brain for any way to keep from having to get out of my warm, comfortable cocoon of a bed, I finally give in to the fact that nothing is going to save me from that horrible fact: it’s time to get up.

This happens every morning when that alarm goes off.

It’s probably ridiculous. I don’t think I’ve ever known anyone to struggle so much internally with the idea of getting up early (or just getting up in general). I know everyone complains about having to get up, and some days are worse than others, but I don’t think I’ve known anyone to suggest such ridiculous options to avoid such a menial thing in the first place. I guess I’m just really. not. a. morning. person. 

If only tips like these actually worked for me.

To add to my misery on this particular morning, it was one of those dark, dreary, positively disgusting days that make you want to lay on the couch under a blanket in your sweatpants while you watch movies all day long and sleep intermittently. Totally acceptable. If only school would be cancelled on days like these so I didn’t have to go to work.

bed best

My life.

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The way black is black and blue is just blue

Over the weekend, I got to meet (and hang out for two days with) my boyfriend’s parents. For me, meeting a significant others’ parents was always kind of a big deal, especially because 1. I have had so few serious relationships, and (save for the boyfriends I had in my younger years, which don’t count, because they were still living at home and their parents were around all the time), I only really wanted to meet the parents if I felt the relationship was going somewhere long-term (which, luckily for me, they haven’t until now- hopefully; of course, now that I’ve said that, my boyfriend will probably read this, freak out and run away- or better yet, maybe he’ll propose tomorrow). And 2. parents usually live out of state, which makes meeting them more involved and take longer (although, considering his came all the way from Michigan to Florida to meet me after 4 months of dating, I must be doing something right). Reversely, I never felt like it was a big deal bringing mine around because they are so laid back and don’t make it into a big deal. Plus they live local and I have a blast hanging with them, so it’s kind of hard to avoid (my boyfriend ended up spending the day fishing with my mom, stepdad and me after only a week of dating; point proven).

It’s weird how not weird all of this has been up to this point. When I went away with my ex to meet his parents (after a year and a half of dating, no less), it felt like I had to be “on” the whole time I was there, like I could never really relax and just be myself, because I was too busy trying to impress them, and I still wasn’t even completely comfortable with him. But this just felt like I was already part of the family (which is great, because that’s kind of the whole point). It’s weird for me to feel so at ease in my relationship so early on. Like we’ve been together forever, and it just fits and is right.

It’s crazy how some people can come into your life and fit into it so effortlessly, like they were there all along. It’s foreign to me to feel like this person was always supposed to be in my life, like one of those cheesy “how did I survive without you until now” moments that are so cliched but couldn’t be more true. For someone who values their independence and alone time, it’s weird to want that one person around all the time, to just be in their presence, to miss them when they’re not there even though you just saw them.

The funny thing is, I don’t feel this overly dramatic, romantic feeling that you can only suspect happens in movies when the main character has fallen in love and declared it will last forever. This is better. It actually feels real this time. I’ve stopped trying to read into things, because I don’t feel like there’s anything to worry about anymore. I don’t feel like I need to validate my feelings to myself or anyone else because, for lack of better words, they simply just fit; I couldn’t imagine feeling any other way. And it’s actually not even overwhelming or a little scary to realize you want someone for the rest of your life. It’s just like, well duh, how could you want it any other way?

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Filed under Advice, Entertainment, humanity, Opinion

Shark attacks obviously = a bunch of random body parts underwater

While I was laying in bed last night, I had a strange thought come to me (as they often do, honestly, I’ve since given up trying to understand how my brain works and why it thinks up the random and obscure crap that it does). I decided to share it with my boyfriend (who was just about to fall asleep next to me, and probably GREATLY appreciated me interrupting his slumber with my weird thoughts), but didn’t really get to explore it as much as I would have preferred. I wondered (aloud), when a shark attacks a person and removes a limb, what happens to the limb? Assuming it isn’t swallowed and digested.

But I know sharks don’t like the taste of human flesh, so I’d imagine they wouldn’t ingest it. Which makes me wonder what happens to it? Is the limb recovered? Because if I had a body part ripped off by a shark, and it didn’t eat it, I’d want it back if possible, y’know, in hopes of reattaching it and stuff.

This is clearly what it looks like underwater after a shark attack.

This is clearly what it looks like underwater after a shark attack.

Or if it isn’t recovered, where does it go? Does it just sink to the bottom of the ocean to be feasted upon by millions of marine organisms? I picture the ocean floor littered with various arms and legs, a graveyard of useless limbs. Eventually the “meat” would be eaten or dissolve, leaving only a broken, severed bone behind. Which then makes me wonder if scuba divers ever encounter a random human bone underwater. As a diver myself, I think it would be a little off-putting (although also a little AWESOME) to stumble across human remains underwater. I know I’m a weirdo for thinking any of this, and even less appealing as a normal person for putting it in digital form for millions to read and judge, but I don’t give a tiny rat’s ass.

Plus I had to share, how could I not? I mean really, where do all those severed shark attack pieces even go?!

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Filed under Entertainment, Humor