On A Lighter Note: What's worse than a cold, cracking, faux leather toilet seat cover?

I've apparently been missing out on some good shit...

Some people only poop at home. Some shower immediately after. Some make it a goal to find the best/cleanest/most private/free public toilet. Some read. Some think. Some listen to music. Some watch TV. Some surf the internet. Some have nicely contoured custom toilet seats. Some have faux leather, fur/leopard print seat covers. Some take pictures of their poop...seriously. Some take pride in a good out. Some squat. Some hover. Some people go outside. Some people have never sat on a toilet. Some people get paid to study it...and love it. C.VN...you know who you are.

Before this morning I didn't fully grasp, or consider, the range of possible toilet-going, time-passing (often prolonging) activities. I began to realize time spent on the toilet is for some the most blissful bunching of minutes in their day.

This morning, before my AM plop - which happens every morning at the same time, for roughly the same amount of time - I found myself debating the art of a good poop with 2 friends. Sure, I had previously considered the the fact that some enjoy reading, at length, while they poop, but my consideration wasn't grounded in much more than the assumption:

The duration of a poop, and therefore activities carried out while in business, depends entirely on the poopees regularity, which, depends on lifestyle and genetic makeup. For instance, a cow farming, meat-eating, beer drinking, farmer from Cedar Rapids, Iowa likely delivers differently than a Yoga instructing, Vegan, non-drinker from Calcutta, West Bengal.

What I hadn't considered was the reality that some people simply love their toilet time. They get to bask in the warmth, comfort and privacy not found in many places other than their throne. I on the other hand having once experienced the pain of constipation, am proud of my regularity and ease of flow. I sit, go to work, and stand....

Was I the anomaly I began to wonder? Had I been missing out on the benefits of some unspoken sub-culture? Had I never once considered the merits of reading, de-panted, on the toilet?

My roommate, much more refined and obviously abreast of the finer things in life, accused me of being a, "straight white boy afraid of his butt-hole." Partly because I'm probably a little afraid of my butt hole and partly because it's how I sometimes react when accused of something beyond my frame of reference, I spewed a lame, machine-gun excuse for my stance on the poop.

My best excuse was not wanting to waste time, which I humbly realized was a terrible excuse for fearing my butt hole. It is after all one of my 'private parts.' This, as if millions of torn ticket stubs weren't enough, further confirms Judd Apatows' contention that people are afraid of 'private parts,' especially the male member...something he's vowed to rectify.

So, instead of prolonging this indulgent posting I will close (with a run on) by posing a challenge to those of you who haven't dabbled, as my roommate has, in your own private sanctuary of "warm, cozy" delight, to go forth and own your throne.