11:13 p.m. - 2004-09-28
Women's Lib 18
Man, have I been slacking on writing diary entries. I am averaging one a week now.
Big deal, idiots!
I have a life, by the way, besides Diaryland. If I started getting paid $20,000 per diary entry, you would see my production escalate.
That means I would write more.
Also, I would write more if my life depended on it.
It doesn't.
So, for now, writing new diary entries is strictly a volunteer job for me. And, just like everything else in the world that's voluntary such as: donating time and money to charities, going out of my way to call 911 when I walk past an alley late at night and notice a helpless woman getting gangraped by four men, and donating blood or plasma to a medical facility, I have a tendency to choose not to waste my time too often.
Which means one diary entry per week may be the norm for a while.
Until I have more free time. Which I currently don't.
Plus, my birthday is in 5 days.
Or 6 days, depending on how many days are in the month of September.
Who knows?! I can't keep track. I learned some kind of knuckle trick once, to calculate which months have 30 days and which have 31....The spaces between your knuckles are 30-day months, and the knuckle bumps are 31-day months or some shit. But then February fucks me up, and you got to factor in leap years...Who the fuck knows?
Is my thumb a month?!
Big deal!
My birthday, incidentally, is on the 3rd of October.
The point is, now would be a good time to start depositing gift bottles of Jack to my "Gift Drop-Off Location", as explained in my previous entry. Or, if you're a female, just send me naked pictures of yourself.
The gift that keeps on giving.
Homemade gifts, such as Polaroid photos of your vagina, are usually more thoughtful than a store-bought gift anyways.
And, now here I am so busy talking about whiskey and vaginas, that I almost forgot about my Women's Lib entries....
My Women's Lib entries, as you should know by now, are a monthly feature where I recruit a random, cute, cuddly, lovable, innocent, sweet, little female participant to write about the disgusting, repulsive, non-ladylike topic of my choosing.
Interested female participants are asked to e-mail a mandatory photo of themselves to me at [email protected], at which time I will determine if they are cute and cuddly enough to be a Women's Lib author.
This month, the volunteer I have chosen is a young lady who writes under the nickname Hydrogeek in her own diary over at, you guessed it: hydrogeek.diaryland.com...
Here she is, complete with blowjob handles:
With hair that long, I figured it must be hard for her to wipe her own ass....the hair getting in the way and all. And since it must be hard to wipe her ass, I figured she probably "holds it in" whenever possible.
Which would make for one constipated girl.
That was my theory anyways, and so I figured constipation would be an ideal topic for her to write about.
Apparently, I was right.
Here's what she wrote:
Constipation. For most of us, it's a word that causes your butt to automatically give a little test push, just to see what's in there. Anybody who doesn't have that reaction obviously has flaming diarrhea. So I am prone to constipation. I always thought it was normal to only poop once every 3-4 days, until I married my husband. He thinks if he doesn't take a crap by 9:27 every morning, then he's constipated. Well I got news for ya, that's not constipation.
Constipation is when you haven't pooped in 3 days, and you begin to feel that feeling. You know, after you get done peeing, a little poop head peeks out, and you think, "Oh yeah, it's right there, this is gonna be the perfect one-wiper." So you give a little push. Nothing. A little bigger push. Still nothing. A full-fledged, hold your breath 'till you turn red in the face push yields a few millimeters of progress. Hopefully you aren't at work because you are in too deep to back out now. There's nothing that can cause more pain than pinching off a shit to go back to work.
I have constipation like that. Where 5 minutes of pushing finally gives you some motion, only to find out it was a tiny little leading pooplet, and the real work has yet to begin. Where a little blood after you get done is a relief, because you were afraid it was going to be a LOT of blood. A word of advice, iron makes it worse. I think Dr's only tell you to take prenatal vitamins so you get lots of practice pushing. After my experience with constipation, pushing a watermelon out of a hole the size of a pea should be a walk in the park.
The best thing about my Women's Lib entries, is that if anybody is disgusted or outraged at what has been written, I can say, "Hey, don't blame me. I didn't write it. I am much too well-mannered and dignified to write about such filth. It was that sweet, young lady who is to blame. She wrote all of it!"
When I first read her entry, at the part where she was talking about blood coming out of her anus, I thought she wrote "ironing makes it worse". As if she had been constipated, with blood leaking out of her anus, and decided that maybe if she started ironing her clothes, it would make the blood stop flowing, and feces start flying out of her ass.
Or, maybe she was actually trying to iron her anus, hoping maybe the heat would melt the feces down into a liquid state so it could flow out easily.
I don't know.
But, then I noticed "ironing makes it worse" is not what she wrote.
Who cares?
I have a cure for your dilemma, Hydrogeek, if you're reading this, by the way....
Back when I was, uh...in medical school, right before I received my PhD, I learned about an interesting link between anal sex and constipation. If you, Hydrogeek, were to subject yourself to receiving anal sex more often from your husband, it would permanently stretch out your anus and rectal walls, so that your constipation problems would be behind you forever.
Your problem is that your anus is too tight right now.
That goes for all the ladies reading this, by the way.
More anal sex = less constipation.
Doctor's orders!
By the way, Hydrogeek, let your husband know that I did my part....$100 should be a sufficient "thank you" from him.
He can make the check out to "Edgar Frog" or "The Whiskey For Kids Foundation"....or he can pay with cash.
Or Paypal or whatever....
I'm not joking.
