Category: TMI

What’s with all the S*#t?

What is the fascination with poop? In my blog from September 19, entitled “Vanity Plates”, I posted a photo of a license plate that I saw on a car in the Kroger parking lot. Check it out, if you don’t remember.

The above photo is from a magazine I received, full of Easter and spring ideas. I do not get the connection of small vinyl poop emojis. Do you really want to put those in your kids Easter baskets?

I am well aware that I am 60 years old. I am well aware that I do not always understand the latest trends and technology. Thankfully, my boys help bring me up to date on many of those things. But, poop?

Which brings me to another pet peeve. Do we really need/want a dippy woman with a fake British accent asking people on TV about their pooping habits? Do we really care if they are clean enough to go commando? And one more thing, do we need cute little bears telling us to “enjoy the go”?

Advertising executives – newsflash! We are going to buy toilet paper anyway.

When I was dating my now husband, if a commercial like that had come on TV, I would have been mortified. I know, I know, it was the mid 70s. But good heavens, is there nothing sacred anymore?

I didn’t want Mike to know that I ever did that bodily function. I wanted him to think I was a rare, magical princess who did not require such quotidian duties. I wanted him to think I was a lady, a royal, not some commoner who did that kind of business.

That may be just a bit tongue-in-cheek, but I hope you are hearing my heart. EVERYTHING does not need to be discussed in public; on TV, at social gatherings, at your kids elementary school, not even at church.

Now that I am mature and all, I don’t mind doing this, but when I was younger, I did not want to put a mammoth 20-roll package of toilet paper into my grocery cart. I was nervous that I would run into someone from my church, or even worse, the pastor!

You are probably thinking how strange I am. That may be true. But let these thoughts linger for a while. Maybe we can drop all of this poop stuff (no pun intended.)

For now, I need to make a grocery run. But first I must find my blond wig and dark glasses. If I see you at Kroger, I may pretend to not know you. Just sayin’.

Bumper Stickers

I have a slight disdain for bumper stickers. I believe that began when I was a child. We grew up modestly and simply, though I did not know that at the time. I have no memory of my parents disagreeing about money, nor discussing it. That is a good thing. However, we always had a nice, dependable car. My father made sure that my mother was safe and even a bit proud to drive the family car. Our cars were never Cadillacs or Mercedes. They were late model Buicks and Chevrolets that he always kept clean. For a short period of time, we had a shiny, black VW Bug. We were years ahead of our time.

My father prohibited bumper stickers. He didn’t want things on there that his six kids thought were cool, for him to have to scrape away with a razor blade when the coolness wore off. Message received.

That mindset stuck. Occasionally I will see a bumper sticker that I think I could live with but I hear my father’s voice…and I change my mind. We often cannot outrun those voices. Most of the time, they are wise.

This morning I was loading up groceries in my trunk. I glanced over at the car parked next to me to see the above bumper sticker. I’m all about love and living a passionate life but there are some passions and loves that do not need to be announced. I’m guessing that this person is not listening to that wise voice in his/her head. Obviously, that head is somewhere else.