Women Don’t Poop
Women don’t poop. Trust me. It’s science.
I thought it was just something I made up because I refuse to believe otherwise and I’ve never dated a woman who poops. But one time I walked in on my wife in an attempt to catch her like Santa Claus on Christmas and I swear to Tom Cruise there were rose petals in the toilet.
So, as my experiment confirms, it is a universal truth – women do not poop. Quite frankly, it’s the way nature intended it to be.
I know what you’re thinking, what about Jamie Lee Curtis? Fair point. She does consume an awful lot of ACTIVIA! But she was born with both parts so that doesn’t count.
Even if women could poop – and if they could it would be illegal because it’s disgusting – no one would ever believe it.
Case in point, a woman can go into a bathroom for an extended length of time, leave it smelling like hot garbage at a taco truck, and all anyone would think is that she had an interesting choice of perfume.
A man goes into a bathroom for longer than 45 seconds and you have one thought – that guy’s totally taking a dump in there. I don’t care how many times we use the faucet decoy.
Ladies may not know this but men live in constant fear of that social stigma. No man wants to be the guy spraying Glade in the downstairs half bath at a reception following the baptism of your’s friends first born child. One christening is enough for the day.
At that same reception a woman could eat half the taco dip, drink a 6 pack of Guiness, top it off with an espresso, and make you question why toilets are white, but what she did in there would be forever overlooked as nothing more than “lady issues”. Don’t mind the Dulcolax wrapper in the trash – she was just reapplying some foundation, also known as laying brick.
Men waiting in line behind her would tell cliché jokes about how their wives spend an hour and a half in the bathroom “putting their face on” and “God knows what else goes in there, am I right Frank!”
Well I highly doubt that anything they put on their face would stay there when the paint is peeling off the walls from whatever intestinal homicide just occurred. But one thing we know for sure is that she didn’t fill the pellet stove, because I’ve just proven that women don’t poop.
Now the poor bastard who’s next in line to use the bathroom is really next in line to get blamed for dropping the Browns off at the stadium. He better finish in less than 45 seconds or it’s on him for life. Like what? That’s right, like stink on shit. The least he’ll get off with is a felony fart, maybe a misdemeanor squeaker if he’s smart enough to carry matches.
Worst case scenario he’s in there for more than 3 minutes in which case he’s permanently off the invite list and will be talked about at each successive holiday party as that asshole who turned the half bath into a Superfund site.
And why? Because women don’t poop and if a few men get left behind then so be it. I’ve had to fall on a grenade or two in my day. In fact, one time the smell was so bad I decided I might as well play a game of Angry Turds (Angry Birds on the toilet). Didn’t have to go, but figured if I’m going to be accused of the crime I might as well have the pleasure of committing it.
Now every rule needs an exception. In this case the exception is Sarah Palin. She was nominated for the number two job, has diarrhea of the mouth, is prone to brain farts, and leaves a mess wherever she goes. I bet her droppings smell like rotten moose and irony. That, plus whatever ignorance smells like. Of course, she would just blame the smell on the media and John McCain’s diaper.
But thankfully women don’t poop so America will never get stuck with her shit storm.
You’re welcome.


