Paradise on this side of heaven Always has its Poo

My parents are celebrating their 50Th anniversary on a little trip. Although they're away somethings never change. Like the rest of us, they have their little morning routines. One of them I call the first and second cup of coffee, for obvious reasons. Dad's "window of opportunity" happens with the first cup of coffee, followed by my on her second cup. They work like clock work, sharing a bathroom for 50 years.

They were staying in a lodge, on top of a bluff, with an awesome view over looking mountains and a very big lake. Mom couldn't wait to make that first pot of coffee and drink it with Dad perched high above the lake and mountains below, just basking in the sun. But what would life be without its little adventures?

Half way through the first cup, Mom says, "Would you like a blueberry muffin to go with that?"

"Sure"

So mom gets up and goes to the patio door. She tries pushing it open, but you guessed it, it was locked. By this time, dad's coffee is almost gone, and the urge to poop is heightened as she turns around, "Butchy, I can't get the door opened."

His eyes widen like two big brown saucers, "Great Balls of *^%%#@- $%!#. Judy, what do you mean; is it locked?"

"Don't holler. Yes, it's locked."

":!!!!!-@$#$#, What the H*LL do you want me to do?"

"I don't know, but you better do something. All that catfish I ate has gotta go some where, and these 2 coffee cups will not hold it all." ( In the excitement, it didn't take 2 cups to move my mother that morning. When Mom has to go, well all I can say is, there better be a place she can relieve herself. Ready or not here it comes.)

"You better start hollering for help."

"What are you gonna do?"

"I'm gonna stand here and squeeze and hope to God I can hold it till somebody comes!"

So my dad starts hollering, "Somebody, please help us." He yells til a man in the next room steps out on his balcony.

"Are you alright?"

"No, my wife locked us out and she has to go to the bathroom." By now his "window of opportunity" has come and gone. He'll be walking around constipated the rest of the day, unless he "looses his plug," which is a whole nother story.

The stranger gets his phone, walks back out on the balcony to call the front desk. "Yes, the guests in room 384 have locked themselves out on their balcony. Can you help them? Okay, so you'll send someone right up to unlock the door from the inside. Thank "

"Wait just a minute, fella."

"Judy, is that dead bolt still bolted?"

I can almost see my mothers brown eyes roll as she says, "Well yes-you know it is!" (No doubt they enjoyed a Cialis moment before going outside. :)

"Great Balls of %^@@#!- $#*#! She'll $#6# all over." My dad shakes his head. "We're doomed."

"Excuse me Miss, the inside door is also bolted." No doubt this guy is about to bust a gut laughing inside.

"Okay, you better hurry. The lady needs to use the bathroom."

Shortly after all that a maintenance man had to jump from one balcony to my parents balcony to unlock the door with a screw driver. The moral of this story: Really consider whether it's worth it or not to always lock all the doors.

(Parts of the story above what I imagined happened. They did lock themselves out. The stranger next door did call for help. Knowing my parents as I do, I'm sure those phrases were used. :) Wouldn't it be great to be a fly on some of these long term anniversary walls? Bet we'd laugh our hinnies off.

An evening with the Poppers

Do we need more or less fiber as we get older? Well I guess that depends who you are.

My husband and I generally end up "spooning" to fall a sleep at night. I've always been a cuddle bug, but as I age I'm declining to snuggle as much. It seems the warmer his back gets the more gas he produces. Whew, he's turned into a snoring, farting machine, but so have I.

Shortly after falling a sleep last night, there arose such a clatter. As I arose from the bed to see what was the matter. The stench of his fart seemed to reveal all the clatter. There laid the rippling, roaring, snoring old guy.

His belly so bloated, and his mouth and nose just a snoring and puffing. With each breath in, out came a huge puff from both ends. No wonder they say old men smell like dirty gym socks. Sure enough half of it is probably coming from their butt.

"Good grief, roll over before the methane gas kills both of us." I shouted.

Soon I was back to sleep. Just a few hours latter I was awaken again. My eyes bugged as the covers fanned up. "Gees oh peat's, he's at it again." As I laid there hugging the covers to avoid the smell, I heard and felt my bag blowing up. Sure enough, I was popping like a darn pop corn popper. The great thing about wearing an ostomy bag is what's known as "blow by." The best description of blow by is, you may hear it, but you can't smell it. No one smells the fart, until you empty or open the bag.

The United States has really missed this secret weapon. I'm convinced people with ostomies could be gathered together to collect the methane gas coming from their bodies. This gas could be bottled and released to choke the life out of our enemies. Let me tell you, Osama Bin Laden wouldn't have a chance in one of those green clouds!

Any way, you guessed it, I had to make an inevitable trip to the bathroom. As the toilet flushed, Mark woke up, "What in the world? My Gosh, did you die, or are you molting a pot mustard gas?"

Ah, such is life. Thank God for bathroom windows. Without them we all may pass away in our sleep.