Too Much Paperwork
The beach house we stayed in last week had this great booth-style table with a window that looked out over a couple of neighboring gardens towards the sea and it was a good place to sit. You could watch surfers arriving in their Subaru/VW minivan (delete as appropriate). You could watch little clouds moving lazily across a deep blue sky. You could watch hummingbirds circling some apparently irresistible plant outside. And you could watch the labrador next door wander out onto the grass and evacuate its bowels.
What a great accompaniment to any meal. What a delight to observe this furry beast sniff around, assume the position and coil down some gigantic brown turd. And it's not like they wipe afterwards is it? I mean, once the last chunk falls the dog just stands up and walks back into the house, presumably ready to sit on the carpet, or bed. How come dogs can get away without wiping? I can't, and hairy as my arse might be it's certainly not furry like a dog's.
I'm not saying there's never been a time where I could have got away with missing out the wipe, but you don't know until you get started do you? And sometimes you get a really fudgy one and you just have to keep going - it's like you're wiping the head of the next one. Having said that, I could be on full fudge drill for a week and I'd still never consume half the bog roll that a woman does. I'll sit down one day to a full roll. I'll pull off maybe fifteen sheets, but the next day there'll be next to nothing left. What happens to it all?
My theory is that it comes down to safety margin. I've said before that my primary requirement in a toilet roll is that it's strong enough that my finger doesn't go through. It's not much to ask, is it? But Mrs Bison doesn't understand this. "I don't know what you do", she says "my finger never goes through. You must not be using enough paper." Well, excuse me, but if I wind half the roll around my wrist before taking aim then, sure, I'll be safe from accidental digital penetration and inadvertent anus exploration as well. But you'd better budget for about three extra rolls a week, because that's clearly what it takes to have "maximum protection" the female way.
Just think about it - if every woman was prepared to risk just the occasional paper failure (or, heaven forbid, the fucking bog roll manufacturers stopped spending millions on fucking cartoon bears and instead made their fucking product capable of withstanding some shit and a finger, and maintaining a barrier between the two) the reduction in solid waste in our sewer system would have to be in the millions of tons per year.
Mrs Bison just received a toilet roll sample in the mail - a couple of multi-roll packets from some market research company wanting our input to help in evaluating a new product. Of course my first question was "Is it strong?" Nothing else really matters does it? Turns out this stuff is actually pretty good. Great news for me, but of no practical value to the female portion of the house, for whom ripping off eighty sheets at a time and balling them up is clearly standard operating procedure.
None of this would be a problem if we were dogs, though. We could just shit, get up and go about our business. There was this book I saw years ago called something like "How To Shit In The Woods", which explained, believe it or not, how to shit in the woods. Apparently the positioning is very important if you want to minimize wiping, which would be a good plan if you found yourself in pine woods, unless using a pine cone or a handful of needles appeals. It can't just be as simple as that though, can it? If you shit like a dog would your wife let you come back in the house without wiping and sit on the clean white sheets? I think not.
Which reminds me of the story about the bear and the rabbit taking a shit in the woods. The bear turns to the rabbit and asks "Do you find that shit sticks to your fur?" The rabbit replies "Why yes, I do." Whereupon the bear picks up the rabbit and uses it to wipe his arse. Which is one solution, I suppose...
Copyright © 2008 Edward Bison
What a great accompaniment to any meal. What a delight to observe this furry beast sniff around, assume the position and coil down some gigantic brown turd. And it's not like they wipe afterwards is it? I mean, once the last chunk falls the dog just stands up and walks back into the house, presumably ready to sit on the carpet, or bed. How come dogs can get away without wiping? I can't, and hairy as my arse might be it's certainly not furry like a dog's.
I'm not saying there's never been a time where I could have got away with missing out the wipe, but you don't know until you get started do you? And sometimes you get a really fudgy one and you just have to keep going - it's like you're wiping the head of the next one. Having said that, I could be on full fudge drill for a week and I'd still never consume half the bog roll that a woman does. I'll sit down one day to a full roll. I'll pull off maybe fifteen sheets, but the next day there'll be next to nothing left. What happens to it all?
My theory is that it comes down to safety margin. I've said before that my primary requirement in a toilet roll is that it's strong enough that my finger doesn't go through. It's not much to ask, is it? But Mrs Bison doesn't understand this. "I don't know what you do", she says "my finger never goes through. You must not be using enough paper." Well, excuse me, but if I wind half the roll around my wrist before taking aim then, sure, I'll be safe from accidental digital penetration and inadvertent anus exploration as well. But you'd better budget for about three extra rolls a week, because that's clearly what it takes to have "maximum protection" the female way.
Just think about it - if every woman was prepared to risk just the occasional paper failure (or, heaven forbid, the fucking bog roll manufacturers stopped spending millions on fucking cartoon bears and instead made their fucking product capable of withstanding some shit and a finger, and maintaining a barrier between the two) the reduction in solid waste in our sewer system would have to be in the millions of tons per year.
Mrs Bison just received a toilet roll sample in the mail - a couple of multi-roll packets from some market research company wanting our input to help in evaluating a new product. Of course my first question was "Is it strong?" Nothing else really matters does it? Turns out this stuff is actually pretty good. Great news for me, but of no practical value to the female portion of the house, for whom ripping off eighty sheets at a time and balling them up is clearly standard operating procedure.
None of this would be a problem if we were dogs, though. We could just shit, get up and go about our business. There was this book I saw years ago called something like "How To Shit In The Woods", which explained, believe it or not, how to shit in the woods. Apparently the positioning is very important if you want to minimize wiping, which would be a good plan if you found yourself in pine woods, unless using a pine cone or a handful of needles appeals. It can't just be as simple as that though, can it? If you shit like a dog would your wife let you come back in the house without wiping and sit on the clean white sheets? I think not.
Which reminds me of the story about the bear and the rabbit taking a shit in the woods. The bear turns to the rabbit and asks "Do you find that shit sticks to your fur?" The rabbit replies "Why yes, I do." Whereupon the bear picks up the rabbit and uses it to wipe his arse. Which is one solution, I suppose...
Copyright © 2008 Edward Bison
posted by Mr Bison at
6:46 PM
2 Comments:
Fucks sake Bison, you're going to have to put a more descriptive title on your posts or add some tags and a warning. I just sat down with a my morning bowl of Bran Flakes and there you go off on one describing in intimate detail the workings of a Labrador's arse. All I could visualise after that was eating dog shit.
And how do they get away without wiping? I've actually seen a local woman wiping her dogs arse after it had a shit on the verge. It fucking wouldn't be me. A dogs sphincter is his own, one of those places where man shouldn't stray, like the sanitary items aisle in the supermarket.
My dog has a clever solution. He waits until he gets inside, away from the clean cut grass and wipes his ass all over the living room rug. If I had one square inch of carpet in my house, my dog would find a way to scoot across it.
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