Thursday, December 15, 2011

Poopy Poetry

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Most of the time having a bathroom connected to the bedroom is a wonderful thing. Like when I need to go in the middle of the night.

But when I'm trying to sleep, and others are doing their "business," wrestling me away from my perfect wave filled dreams, I wish the bathroom was in another state.

"That was like a giant canon ball," says Gio from MY bathroom. "My butt is the canon and my poop is the ball."

Barely awake I repeat what I hear as if in a mystical trance, "Your butt is the canon, and your poop the is the ball?"

"Do you even get it?" asks Gio.

What's not to get? It's too early for poopy poetry.

1 comment:

Sara said...

Ha! Oh my, we get stuff like that around here, too.

 
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