June 15, 2009
You know how everybody poops? But how some people don’t like to talk about it?
I understand that. It’s messy and stinky. However, poop is life. It’s like breathing. Except grosser.
Well, today I’ve got to get something off my, er, chest. I’ve extolled the virtue of the bidet on several occasions, in fact, on every available occasion. But I want to come clean (wait for it) about a certain “downside” to the bidet.
Here it is. If you’ve spent the day a little, well, looser than normal, requiring repeated trips to the outhouse, and you’ve also spent the day away from your home base, using someone else’s toilet paper, someone else’s facilities, upon your return to the magical bathroom with the magical toilet, you might breathe a sigh of relief, you might really look forward to the sweet sweetness that is the oscillating heated water spray on your nether ye.
Turns out, NOT.
I’ve never jumped so fast so far in my life. Oh the sting. Oh the awkwardness. I hit the spray button, waited for the magic, and it was like I had been stung on my ass by a swarm of bees (and I know a little something about that).
I’m not saying I don’t still love the bidet. I’m just saying, in the words of Captain Sergeant Phil Esterhaus, “Be careful out there.”