America, it’s time to come out of the stall.
While we freely talk about anything, from what we had for breakfast to problems in the bedroom (looking at you, erectile dysfunction), there are still a few things that are taboo.
And going No. 2 is No. 1 on that list.
Time to bring that to an end, and a new docu-comedy intends to do just that.
In “Poop Talk,” releasing Feb. 16 (on demand and in theaters), twin-brother comedians Randy and Jason Sklar come clean on the subject, which remains so taboo that even toilet-paper commercials only allude to it.
Various celebs share the trials and tribulations of elimination, from the beauties of regularity to the pitfalls of sudden and ill-timed urges.
And it’s about time someone has broken through barriers created by fecal shaming.
Parents eagerly share diapering disasters, from humiliating public breaches to answering, “Is that stain what I think it is?”
But should the conversation turn to our own humorous bathroom odysseys, we clench up as if to say, “What, me poop?”
It’s time to shed your inhibitions and wipe away the stigma. There is much funny to be found in something everybody does daily (or should).
I’m happy to start, sharing my two favorite stories that are as humiliating as they are humorous.
My top 2 funniest poop stories
No. 1 happened on the third or fourth date with my girlfriend. A sudden, impalpable urge struck as we strolled back to the car after dinner on Tempe’s Mill Avenue. Within a minute, the point of no return clearly had been reached.
I pointed northward. “I’m really sorry, but I have to go right now. Yes, that. So I’m heading to the Palms and I’ll see you there.” I ran toward the Tempe Mission Palms Hotel, making it in the nick of time.
Later, in the lobby, she was as relieved as I was. “When you said you were going to the palms,” she said, “I was wondering which palm tree, and why you wanted to see me there. I’m so glad you meant a hotel.”
No. 2 occurred in the early 1980s when, on a seven-day raft trip through the Grand Canyon, I’d suffered through six days of constipation. On the seventh day, I sat atop the distinctive blue portable toilet placed on sand dune in sight of the Colorado River, happily waving to the many friendly rafters that floated by.
There’s a third incident involving the quiet lobby of a Key West boutique hotel, surprisingly good acoustics and a bathroom that should have caused at least one architect to say, “Maybe not so close to public areas.”
But I’m not sure you’re ready.
Which is why I encourage all of you to cut through the crap and share your own super bowel stories.
Do your duty. #embracethemovement