Porta Potty

I was thinking tonight about the finer points of porta-potty etiquette. Although there are undoubtedly many varying personal preferences and techniques, I am quite sure pretty much everyone, unless they are a piglet, adheres to the same basic porta-pooper principles. I have decided to list and explain them here so that anyone not familiar with these venerable and well-loved devices might, on the occasion they meet one, understand a little about the way one goes about their business in one. Keep in mind that during my research for this quality informational piece of literature, I did not in fact interview anyone (That would just be weird), so the information contained herein is based on my vast personal experiences coupled with uncanny perception and intuition into the vast world of all potties portable.
Let us begin with the proper attire required to execute clean and safe porta-potty operations. Of course, based on what climate one may be in, I truly believe that the fewer clothes, the better. Bulky outer garments are at best a pain, and can become downright dangerous if one tries to remove them in the limited space available in that smelly little place. I have had severe scares when the urinal attempted to attack my coat sleeve or other piece of garment. Once, a particularly angry urinal knocked the hat off my head, and it fell on the floor. Terrible things, those urinals!
Shoes, or some form of foot covering, are a must (I personally prefer hip waders). The floors can be downright swampy, equipped with appropriate swamp wildlife waiting to suck you in and devour you. Once while in Kuwait, I observed a gentleman emerge from his tent in a stately manner, saunter over to a convenient crapper, and step in. Nothing too unusual about that, except that he was… “GASP”… BAREFOOT! I shudder even now thinking about it. Let me explain to you, my dear readers, why this seemingly minor act was in fact nothing less than an uncouth atrocity. Conveniently placed on the wall of the aforementioned semi-sturdy little structure, there is a urinal large enough that a horse that can’t even really see where he is peeing could do a pretty good job of making it all go into the urinal (assuming that he could fit himself into the porta-potty, of course). Somehow, humans of the male gender have had some evil genetic handicap installed that apparently physically prevents them from actually aiming all of their pee into the urinal, thus depositing copious quantities onto the floor/wall/toilet seat/anything available. Thusly the floors, as you can now see, can be quite horrific places indeed.
Now that proper attire has been discussed, we shall now delve into the unsavory, yet very necessary subject of porta-toilet technique. Due to the inability of males to properly utilize the urinal (sometimes they decide to avoid the urinal all together) the toilet seat can, on occasion, be almost as deadly as the floor. This poses a difficult problem if you have to go number 2. I have heard rumor of a “technique” to utilize the potty referred to as the “hover”, where one “hovers” one’s “fanny” over the toilet seat and conducts their business as usual. I have considered this “technique” at length, even gone as far as to create a mock-up porta-potty in a safe area (it would be foolish for one to attempt such a potentially dangerous operation without first conducting extensive rehearsals in a controlled environment) to attempt to make the mechanics of this “technique” work. I cannot, however I may try, seem to make this “technique” work for me. To perform the “hover” one must begin by placing one hand behind them on the back wall to lean against, causing an uncomfortable half-twist of their torso (I call this maneuver the twist-lean) which is not at all conducive to the comfort level required to do number 2. Compounding this discomfort is the necessity for one to perform a hunker-squat in addition to the aforementioned twist-lean requiring considerable strength in the thigh and buttock muscles. These muscles, as I am sure you are very aware, are indeed the very muscles that must be highly relaxed to perform a satisfactory number 2 maneuver. After examining every angle (very unpleasant, I assure you) of this “hover”, I have dismissed this “technique” as a false solution created by the porta-potty to sucker a unsuspecting victim into it’s evil dirty clutches.
”What can one do”, You might ask? Well, dear reader, my personal technique is tried and true, and widely accepted by fellow connoisseurs in the porta-potty community. Immediately upon entering the potty, I assess the toilet paper situation. This is very important for three reasons: The first is that approximately one roll is required to wipe off the toilet seat. Keep in mind that enough should be wadded up in your hand to keep your fingers protected by approximately one inch of toilet paper. If done correctly, the wad should loosely resemble a small pillow in size and shape. Once the toilet seat is quite dry, carefully drop the toilet paper pillow into the toilet-hole, aiming for the center of the action area. The toilet paper pillow, at this point, provides two benefits: First, It covers the unsightly mess that previous crapper connoisseurs have left, and secondly, provides the foundation for what I like to call the “poo decelerator”. When one uses the porta-potty, one’s rear-end is approximately ten feet above the “blue water” deposited into the poo receptacle by the porta potty service people. The medium of water is selected by the poo people as a sick joke, because they know that poo , no matter how far the drop, achieves a velocity approaching Mach 1 at entry of the “blue water” causing a tsunami inside an enclosed space which leaves the water only one place to go… up. This results in a condition known as “Blue Water Butt” or “Splash Back” which is acutely uncomfortable for the potty user and highly humorous to the poo people. To avoid this misfortune, one must use a second roll of tissue to build a toilet paper pyramid to decelerate the potentially dangerous poo to a safe velocity for blue water entry. A pyramid is a perfect geometrical shape to safely absorb high-velocity impacts, so it is important that time (if available) and care (always important) should be invested in its proper construction. This is the second reason for an adequate toilet paper supply. The third reason is the fact that anytime that one must use a porta-potty, one’s body decides that gastrointestinal difficulties are a great idea, resulting in the need for a substantial quantity of toilet paper to satisfactorily clean oneself.
No matter what your personal technique may be, the fundamentals remain the same: proper attire, adequate toilet paper supply, proper wipe-down, and the ever important poo decelerator. Within the confines of these fundamentals, much freedom can be found to develop individual style which enhances one’s porta potty technique, making each visit to the pooper more memorable than the last.

So, You Want To Be A Writer, Huh?

I was thinking today that I would love to write for a living. To try my hand at writing of all sorts would be an interesting challenge. Although I’ve never really written anything of substance, I have quite the active imagination just quivering to be set free. Maybe that’s just gas. If I were to learn to focus and to collect my thoughts and guide them toward a meaningful purpose, I just might succeed at writing. Therein, however, lies the problem. I am a chronic procrastinator, and my wife affectionately refers to me as “Professor Calamitus” from the Jimmy Neutron television series. All of his evil genius schemes are brilliantly conceived and begun, only to be left undone. I’m still trying to decide whether or not I should be offended at this comparison.
The question now arises; what to write? A love story? An adventure? A combination of both? What time period should it occur? Where?
I truly love a good swashbuckling adventure, with maybe a little romance thrown in, but it’s been done so much, it would be very difficult to devise anything original.
Ok, I’m a sucker for a good romance, as long as there’s a good chunk of violence in the story (I have to maintain my masculinity somehow), and authors such as Nicholas Sparks have really nailed the romance genre down (without the whole violence thing).
Mysteries are incredibly fascinating to me; although I don’t believe I’m smart enough to contrive a masterful whodunit (remember the Professor Calamitus thing)? With my luck, I would paint a grand picture with a deep plot with colorful characters and... What was I talking about?
Maybe I could write horror stories. No, I’d probably end up scaring myself into a psycho ward. I’m ok with monsters and aliens (you should meet my in-laws), but no ghost type stuff. I’m a weenie when it comes to ghosts; remember that active imagination I was talking about? When I was a kid walking back from my friends’ house alone at night, I would imagine some thing creeping up behind me to whisper in my ear with its hot foul ghost breath. I bet you didn’t know that sneakers could do a pretty sweet burnout when you’re trying to get traction on pavement. The thick blue smoke from the sneaker burnout acted as a good smokescreen to cover my egress from the area. I think I could have set a few land speed records running home! I would tear open our front door, dart in, and slam it in the face of that stupid smelly ghost. Ha! Beat you again, sucker! Well, it would inevitably turn out that the “ghost” was just my “friend” trying to run me down to give me something I forgot at his house. Some friend!
Fantasy novels are fun to read and enjoy, because in them you can have all kinds of cool magic, creatures, heroes and heroines who are abnormally physically fit and impossibly proportioned. On the cover of the books the Fiercely Rugged Looking Hero is usually wearing a leather Speedo (quite popular in the heyday of fantasy times for its fashionable durability and aesthetic charm), and maybe a cloak made up of various chunks of animal hides. He is carrying a battle-axe the size of a small sedan which he uses to promote truth, justice and the barbarian way, dealing fiercely (I like that word) with any and all enemies, or people and creatures that smell worse than him. The Heroine is always dressed in a skintight fur-trimmed leather leotard with some metal discs strategically placed to protect her freakishly large and perfectly round breasts. Oh, and she is wielding an enormous crazy looking sword that is glowing, indicating that it possesses some unearthly power that enables her to keep the Fierce Hero in line. It is especially useful when the Fierce Hero comes home to the castle after a long day of fighting smelly creatures and evil wizards and is feeling a bit too frisky.
I guess that doesn’t leave me much to write about. Maybe if I must write something, it should be on the mundane, every-day things in life. The only problem with that is we all have an overabundance of mundane every-day type things that we want to forget about. That is why we read a good story in the first place; to steal away from reality, if just for a moment. It is wonderful to imagine ourselves as that smelly Hero/Heroine, sporting our fashionable yet functional leather Speedo/leotard, and utilizing our powers for truth, justice, and the barbarian way.
If I never succeed as a New York Times best-selling author, I will still enjoy writing about those little thoughts that come to mind (yes, thoughts actually occur from time to time). You never know, one of them just might be a winner.