Amputating Barbie

When I posted my question on Facebook regarding the best tool to amputate a Barbie ankle, I received a lot of helpful suggestions, ranging from toe nail clippers to bolt cutters.  

Other friends, taking into consideration Barbie’s make-up, suggested more powerful tools, such as a Ratcheting PVC Pipe cutter or a 4-inch grinder with a cutting wheel.

(Clearly these people don’t know who they’re dealing with.  Remember?  I’m the one who had to ask my husband what a wrench looked like when assembling my unicycle.) 

Only one friend asked me why I was going to amputate Barbie’s ankle, which in itself is curious.

Well, it all started with my exciting new used book, Regretsy, which highlights some of the most ridiculous items ever posted on Etsy.

Oh, how I love a good challenge.  And, as my readers know, I have a talent for making ridiculous items.   

Thank you.  

To that end, I decided to make Barbie Foot Earrings. 

I dragged Kimmy with me to Walmart to help me find the perfect pair of Barbie feet.  After considerable deliberation, we selected Raquelle, the Barbie with the fashionable fuchsia wedges. 

On the way out of the store I handed Kimmy the receipt and she said, “Why do you need that?”  
 
“In case I want to return it,” I said.

“Except she won’t have any feet,” Kimmy responded, always one step ahead of the rest of us.

“OOH! OOH!” I said.  “I’ll say I just bought this Barbie and never noticed that her feet were missing until I got her home!"

Kimmy, of course, ignored me.

 I set up the surgical suite on the kitchen table, stocked with a wide array of impressive tools.

“Don’t worry, Barbie,” I said, empathetically. 

“This is going to hurt you more than it hurts me.”  

Perhaps it’s a tribute to my culinary skills, that the bread knife was the most effective scalpel.

I realized that some of you may find me heartless.  A Jeffrey Dahlmer of sorts.  I get it.   Cutting off Barbie’s foot to enhance my jewelry collection may seem a bit narcissistic. 

But I am not entirely cold blooded.  See?  I treated Barbie’s wounds.

And I don’t know about you, but I think these Barbie Foot Earrings turned out AMAZING!

Another challenge met.  And exceeded.

But I have one challenge remaining.  

Off to Walmart.

Thai Train Toilets

I knew Kimmy wouldn’t let me down.  After living on the other side of the world for almost a year, she came home with blog material galore!

Which, on the other hand, has left me with a very bad case of blog envy.

It’s one thing blogging about toilets in Thailand.  But it’s another thing experiencing them first hand.  Especially Thai Toilets on trains.
 
Damn her.

It’s really not fair. I would give anything to be able to walk down the aisle of that Thailand train, travelling from Bangkok to Surat Thani.  My bladder full of Tai Tea. 

I would open the door to the toilet and see 2 options: a squat pot and a regular toilet. 

Despite the fact that my squatting skills are not completely honed,  I would decide to take on the challenge of maintaining my balance as the train jolted from side to side.   (That's how stupid adventuresome I am.) 

I would pull down my unmentionables and assume my best plié.  As the train rounded a curve, I would look down to ensure that I remained on target.

That’s when I would notice something moving briskly in the pot.
 
Since I would not have my reading glasses with me in the Thai Train Toilet, careful examination of the contents of said squat pot would be impossible.

Hence, I would take the conservative route and opt for the regular toilet, rather than risk exposing my netherlands to whatever the hell was swimming in the pot.

I would lift the toilet lid and notice a similar movement in that toilet.  And I would come to the realization that Thai Train Toilets empty directly onto Thai Train Tracks. 
 
I would try not to gag, all the while thinking what a great blog topic this could be.

Sadly, the Thai Train Toilet is just a fantasy for me.  I did not get to experience the excitement of seeing railroad ties pass by, through the lens of a toilet bowl.  

It’s just not fair.  This could be the biggest case of blog envy ever.

You may think it could not get any better for Kimmy. 

You’re wrong.

Her friends Luke and Neil slipped between cars on the Thai Train to smoke.  

And got splashed. 

How lucky can you get?

Nature vs. Nurture

For years researchers around the globe have debated the issue of whether creative genius was genetic or nurtured.

That issue is no longer up for debate. 

As evidenced by my brother Tom. 

Now, Tom is remarkably similar to me: a creative genius.  

He recently encountered a problem, and created a unique and novel solution to said problem.  

A product amazing in its simplicity. Yet nobody before him had thought of it.

Not even me.

As background, Tom’s wife Maureen injured her lip.  According to Tom, “I don't know if she banged her mouth on a beer can, or maybe got it caught in a car door. Maybe I made her laugh so hard that her lip broke open.”  (Or not, Tom.)

OK, this is not Maureen, nor does it in any way, shape or form illustrate Maureen's lip injury.  

But it is a lip injury.

Now as wonderful as Maureen is, the poor thing does not have Clyde genes. You cannot achieve creative genius by simply saying, “I do.”  Still, Maureen tried desperately to find a creative way to fix her lip. 

To no avail.

According to Tom, "She tried putting everything on it. She put butter, peanut butter, salt, canola oil, crazy glue, WD 40, bacon, gunpowder, and lip balm. She even tried a band-aid."

A band-aid on your lip?  Come on, Maureen. 

Tom added, “This gaping wound, about the size of an eyelash, became the focal point of her existence.”
 
Tom told me he had no choice but to invent something that would immobilize the damn thing till it got all healed up without her meddling.

He recalled the time he hurt his shoulder and the doctor put it in a sling, and the light bulb went off. 

To that end, Tom invented the “LipSling”.

 
Goose bumps.

Note the instructions on his original sketch:

1. Insert the sling into one nose hole.
2. Pull it out the other nose hole.
3. Tie a knot and pull it in till the knot is in the middle of your inner nose.
4. Tuck your sore lip into the LipSling and leave it there till it heals.

At the risk of insulting the integrity of any of my readers who may be tempted to steal Tom's LipSling idea, note that he has protected it with the TM symbol. 

With that said, he is looking for investors. For $100,000 you can get 5 percent of the net profits. You could be one of the first shareholders.

Back to the prevailing debate.  Creative genius: genetic or nurtured?

I think my stinkin' case is closed.

Wax On, Wax Off

"Mom, can I wax your lip?"

I heard 6 words come from Linda's mouth, but my brain refused to comprehend them.  I looked at her dully.

"Can I wax your lip?" she repeated. 

"NO!" I said firmly.   "I don't need my lip waxed."
 
"Yes you do," she said and handed me a mirror.  I looked.  "I don't have hair on my lip," I said confidently.

She handed me my reading glasses.  I looked.

I firmly believe that God makes our eyes go bad so we don't notice our flaws as we age.  Reading glasses are for reading.  Not for discovering that Kevin and I have similar lips.

I decided to consult with Dave, who also happens to be reliant on reading glasses.  

"Linda wants to wax my lip," I told him.  "Should I let her do it?"

"You have hair on your lip????"  He seemed surprised.  That made me feel better, since, clearly, he had never noticed my hairy lip.

"Yes," I said, humiliated. 

But then he said, as if rubbing it in, "I don't have hair on MY lip."
 
Now, Dave has a full beard and mustache.  You don't need reading glasses to see that he has hair on his lip.

"Yes you do!"
"No, I don't"

And we proceeded to debate the ridiculous issue until it became clear to me that he thought I had hair ON my lip (as opposed to above it).  

I decided to let Linda get her wish.  I know.  Willingly allowing your daughter to inflict pain and suffering upon you in the name of beauty may not have been the best choice I've ever made.

But the before and after photos certainly are convincing.

Zig Zag

When you think about inventions that have changed our world, you most certainly consider things like the wheel, the Internet and the mobile phone.

And, of course, the Baby Mop.

Well I have just learned of a new Japanese invention that is certain to make it onto that coveted list.

The Yasukuni Notchless Tape Dispenser.

Yes.  You read it right.  It is a notchless tape dispenser.

I know what you're thinking.  How can Scotch Tape be notchless?  It's impossible.

I felt the same way until I read the product description from Japan Trend Shop Web Site: 

Don't you just hate those zigzag lines you get when cut tape? Well, this special tape dispenser will leave only straight lines for a clean, satisfying result.

I am thrilled beyond words!

I will no longer have to manually cut those irritating zig-zags off strips of Scotch Tape while wrapping my holiday gifts.  

This will save me hours upon hours.  

Hours that I can dedicate to my blog. That’s what you call a secondary product benefit.

Those Japanese are stinkin' amazing.  I am humbled by their ingenuity.

And the Yasukuni Notchless Tape Dispenser is very economical, costing only $40 per roll, plus shipping and handling.

I have just one request.  

I think they should get started on the Yasukuni Notchless Tin Foil Dispenser.

Those zig-zags are getting on my every last nerve. 

Completing the Collection

I have mixed feelings about the world-wide shortage of Drunken Mexican Toothpick Holders. 

On one hand, I am distressed that I cannot add to my original collection of two.  On the other hand, the laws of supply and demand tell me that my collection is priceless.

Over the years, I’ve had to relax my standards to add to my Drunken Mexican Toothpick Holder collection.  I first added Fred, who actually was a toothpick holder.

But he was not Mexican, nor was he drunk.  I gave him a sombrero and a bottle, greatly enhancing his credibility.

I was then able to double my Drunken Mexican Toothpick Holder collection when I got my hands on 3 Justin Bieber figurines.  

And with some creative acupuncture treatments, I converted them into 3 rather impressive toothpick holders. 

(Admittedly, they are not Mexican, nor are they drunk, but they do hold toothpicks.)

My friend Jamie got my collection back on track by creating an original Drunken Mexican Toothpick Holder for me (see the Drunken Mexican in yellow hat, below).  I added a naughty baby doll and I now own the largest collection of Drunken Mexican Toothpick Holders in the entire world: 8.

At the risk of sounding greedy, I feel the need to add to my Drunken Mexican Toothpick Holder collection.  

The truth is, I’m hosting a holiday party in a few weeks and really want to impress my guests. 

To that end, I scoured every booth in each and every Straw Market I could find on my recent trip to the Bahamas.  

To no avail.

I realize that the Bahamas are nowhere near Mexico.  

But what about a Drunken Bob Marley Toothpick Holder?  Is that asking too much?

Not a single one.

This is ridiculous.  Do I have to come up with EVERY idea?  Come on, Straw Market people.  Okay, I'll build the prototype. 

You can take it from there.

Preparing for the Test

I’ve prepared for many tests in my life:  SAT… GRE… the final exam to my Rocket Science 801 class. 

They were all frolics in the park compared to preparing for a Colonoscopy.  

(For those of you not familiar with a Colonoscopy, imagine a camera going on a hike through your netherlands; the trail head is your tush.)

To prepare for a Colonoscopy, you must completely empty the contents of your colon to make it squeaky clean.  

Please allow me to mention that a colon is 5 stinkin’ feet long.  (Which means, in my case, it about reaches to my eyelashes.)

The prep involves drinking a massive container of the most vile tasting liquid ever concocted: a bubbly mixture of fluids drained from an autopsy table combined with bleu cheese.

The instructions suggest that you hold your nose as you drink it.  

Good call.

But it works.   Minutes after I drained the glass, I relocated to the bathroom where, for the next 4 hours, I achingly excreted everything I’d eaten over the past 90 days.  

And then I HAD TO DRINK ANOTHER GALLON OF THE AUTOPSY JUICE. 

After choking down the second gallon, I hobbled back to my home away from home.  I fully expected it to be a waste of time, since there was clearly nothing remaining inside me, except a few worn out organs. 

But I was sorely wrong.  And angry.  I looked down at the contents of the toilet bowl accusingly, “Where are you coming from?”  I growled.

Well.  That stinkin' Autopsy Juice was so effective,  I pooped out food that was on next week’s shopping list.  For that matter, I pooped out everything I considered eating in the next 5 years.   And Chris Christie’s breakfast.  

I continued to purge for 4 more hours until all that remained of me was a stinky pile of skin and bones.

You know what?  The whole process wouldn’t have been nearly as bad if I didn't have to drink that damn Autopsy Juice. 

Or if Autopsy Juice tasted good.  Like wine.  Or Margaritas.

Or Gummy Bears.

Next time I need a Colonoscopy I’m ordering myself some Haribo Gummy Candy Sugarless Gummy Bears. Believe me.  I’ve done my homework.  I’ve read the reviews on Amazon.com and these guys work just as well as Autopsy Juice.  

But they taste great!  And look at these amazing reviews!

"I ate a bag of those b*tches once. Once. What occurred later can only be described with words like volcanic confetti."  


"When I got these, I couldn't contain my excitement and I ate about a quarter of a bag. There would have been less pressure to make two winning free throws in the NBA finals than for gas to escape my bowels. This kind of diarrhea made me think of a new invention.... seat belts for the toilet. I had such diarrhea that I was producing thrust."

"They made my dog pass out."

One woman apparently gave them to her son.

"My eyes focused on my son. Still laying in bed. His bed. It looked like a crime scene. A crime scene where the blood is brown...and stinky. His Thomas the Train bed was sprayed with the brown poo-water. His sheets, his pillow, his Winnie The Pooh (ironic?) stuffed animal.  The poo-juice had covered my sweet son's hair, streaked across his face. The folds of his chubby little legs."

This review came from a true Philanthropist:

"I will hand these out on Halloween.  Just doing my part to end childhood obesity."

I, too, fancy myself a Philanthropist.  I am always looking for ways to "give back" to my readers.  To that end, I am in the process of developing an awareness campaign targeted at Gastroenterologists to introduce them to Haribo Gummy Candy, Sugarless Gummy Bears:  A delicious alternative to Autopsy Juice.
 
You’re welcome.

The Best Seat in the House

I’m always on the lookout for exciting new vacation destinations. 

However, at the risk of appearing pompous, my tastes have become quite refined as I’ve matured. 

For example, I will not stay at an “otel” beginning with an "M".

I’ve also become quite discriminating in terms of vacation attractions.  I do my homework.  Before booking an excursion, I carefully study attraction reviews on TripAdvisor.

Which is how I found out about the amazing Suwon Toilet Museum, also known as Mr. Toilet House. 

Mr. Toilet House has a fascinating history. Allow me to share that with you.

 Apparently, a Korean businessman named Sim Jae-duck (affectionately called Mr. Toilet) built the world’s first toilet shaped house.  He wanted to give recognition to the humble toilet, and the heavy load this under-appreciated toilet must bear, each and every day.

(As a side note, I also appreciate the humble toilet.  In fact, considering the vast experience I’ve gained blogging about toilets and pooping and peeing, I humbly believe I've earned the title of Ms. Toilet.  Many times over.)

When Mr. Toilet passed away in 2009, he generously donated his porcelain estate to the city of Suwon, where it was converted into Mr. Toilet House.  
 

I’m not making this crap up.

Take a look at this amazing place!  

In fact, Mr. Toilet House was ranked number 3 of 40 attractions in Suwon on Trip Advisor!  (Right behind the Hwaseong Fortress and the Hwaseong HaengGung).  The reviews were stinkin’ amazing:

"Sounds like a strange place...a toilet house with an adjacent park dedicated to toilets and going to the bathroom. That said, it's actually quite interesting and worth the trip to Suwon to see it." 

"A homage to the best seat in the house"

"水原シティツアーに含まれてました。行きたかったのでちょうどよかったです。中心地から少し離れているので個人で行かれるのはタクシーでしょうか？中は、 フリーダムなトイレの博物館です。口に出すと少し照れますが、金のう○ちのオブジェやそのほかの展示もあり、博物館がトイレの形になっています。笑いのネ タになりますよ"
 
Since many of you may not be as familiar with the Korean language as I am, I will translate this review to English.  

You’re welcome. 

"It was just right because it wanted to go. Inside is a museum of toilets Freedom. You embarrassed a little when I put in mouth, but sometimes exhibit and other objects Chino ○ sac gold, museum has become a form of toilet. It becomes the story of laughter."

No wonder the poor guy was embarrassed. 

It's probably not a good idea to put anything from Mr. Toilet House in your mouth. 

The Slim Jim

"Mom, you know how your nose is connected to your mouth?" 

I had no clue where this question was headed.

"Yeah..." I said cautiously.

"Because I was eating a Slim Jim and it..." 

I put my hands over my ears and started singing, "LA-LA-LA-LA-LA"

But Linda was relentless.  "Mom!  I have a Slim Jim up my nose.  And it's spicy."

How do you help a teenager with a Slim Jim stuck up her nose?  Just looking at a Slim Jim turns my stomach.  The thought of one in her nose made me wretch.

"Have you tried blowing your nose?" I suggested, feebly.

"Mom!  It's too big to come out!" she insisted.  "And it's burning me.  Help!"

As an aside, I'm no stinkin' ENT, but I am pretty good at math.  And angles.  

And for the life of me, I cannot figure out how that Slim Jim could have made what is nearly a U-turn at Linda's Uvula to end up in her nose. 

And look at the size of that passageway from the Uvula to the nasal cavity.  It's a good thing Jim was slim.  (Sorry. Couldn't resist)
  
I decided to consult the experts.  Yahoo Answers usually has good medical advice.   

Q.  "While I was eating someone made me laugh and food got stuck in my nose, OMG its been in there for a long time it's like right at the top of my nose. OMG please help I'm really worried!"

The first suggestion was not helpful:

"i think the nose is somehow connected thru the throat.. if you know it's there try to blow your nose. since it doesn't work..uh.. sniff and swallow? it might come out of ur mouth or just go to ur stomach lol no biggie? think of it as...snot.."

The second suggestion simply gave me the creeps :

"If it is possible you could use tweezers"

And the third was suggested by someone who clearly considered himself a comedian.

"Use a vacuum cleaner"

However, that recommendation stimulated an amazing nerdling epiphany.  I had the perfect solution to Linda's problem.  Nearly at my fingertips.

It was packed away in my blog bucket: 

My Nosefrida.  If it worked on an infant, it would certainly work on Linda!

I ran to Linda's bedroom, "Here I come to save the day," I sang, sounding exactly like Super Man.

Then, switching tunes, "I'm gonna suck that Slim Jim right out of your nose." I waved my Nosefrida and proceeded to dance as if I were shampooing my hair on a beach in the South Pacific.

Linda looked at me as if I'd grown a second head.  "I hacked it out already," she said. 

"Seriously?"  I was awash with disappointment.   Until I had a desperate scathingly brilliant  idea.

"Perhaps you some left-over noogies I can help you with?"  I offered.

The Speech

Last week I was asked to say "a few words" about my boss at a Leadership Meeting where she was being recognized for her 20 years of service.  I decided to tell it like it is...

What can you say about a boss who gives you a unicycle for Christmas? 

It really wasn’t until I attempted to mount that unicycle that I started to wonder if she was trying to get rid of me. 

But then I came to my senses and realized that she probably didn’t want an employee to go out on Short-Term Disability, and that she just had very high expectations of me.  

She figured that anyone who could jump rope and pogo stick at the same time certainly could learn how to ride a unicycle.

So I started watching you-tube videos:  "How to mount a unicycle", "How to ride a unicycle", "How to juggle while riding a unicycle".  

But there was one video missing.   “How not to go on Short-Term Disability while learning to ride a unicycle.” 

That unicycle is a metaphor for Cathy’s leadership.  First she has high expectations for her team.  But more importantly, she is the kind of leader who inspires you to succeed .  

And I really wanted to succeed on that unicycle to make Cathy proud.  

But, in the end, I place more value on my healthy bones than on making Cathy proud.  And my unicycle remains parked in my hallway where I can safely ride it, with my hands touching both sides of the wall as I proudly pedal onward.

I thoroughly enjoy working with Cathy and am thrilled that she has been with this company for 20 years. 

But I will not be here for 20 more years if I keep trying to ride that damn unicycle.

Bumper Dumping

I never intended to publish 3 toilet-themed posts in a row.  

I have a reputation to protect.  Notes from a Nerdling is a highly intellectual, educational blog.

Stop laughing.   

It really was unintentional.  I accidentally happened upon the Bumper Dumper while innocently surfing the web.  

Come on, guys?  How could I possibly resist sharing this amazing apparatus with my readers?

The Bumper Dumper is exactly as it sounds: a toilet seat attached to a steel frame that hooks on to a trailer hitch converting the back of your vehicle into your very own port-a-potty. 

I mean, think about it.  This product is life changing!  No more having to wait for nasty, inconvenient road side rests!  

If you have to “drop a deuce” (I learned that from the Poo-Pourri commercial), all you have to do is pull over to the side of the road, attach your Bumper Dumper to the trailer hitch and drop!

And, like Poo-Pourri, Bumper Dumper has a kick-ass slogan: "When it comes to #2, we are #1”.  
 
And it is sturdy.  Bumper Dumper will hold up to 500 pounds.  (Doesn’t that just elicit the most disturbing fascinating images?)

The Bumper Dumper sells for $59.99. 

Being a cheapskate frugal, I would never spend that much money without first reading product reviews on Amazon.com. 

And I’m so glad I did! This guy had a lot of good advice:

Forget the bucket, just use the ring seat and this device can be, all kidding aside, a lifesaver. Toss the five gallon bucket, it's useless and the manufacturer just puts that on the photos so the EPA doesn't make a stink about it.

That’s great, because the Bumper Dumper does not come with a bucket! 

And check out these great user tips!

Keep feet out in front of you like you're on an elementary school swing--the ground splatter can be unsightly on your Gore-tex hikers.

Woah.  That's good to know.

Sometimes it's nice to relax, grab an LL Bean sale catalog, drink some java and enjoy the morning. The bumper dumper allows you to be civil and to really pass the time outdoors. I hold my pinkie out when I drink from my coffee cup on the bumper dumper. I probably wouldn't bother with that if I was just taking a dookie over a log.

"Can someone please pass the Grey Poupon." You'll feel like King Edward on his throne gazing down on his subjects: a squirrel, a blue jay, a couple of chipmunks, an army of ants. That's the cool thing about this dumper. It makes you feel all kingly. 

 What a fantastic customer experience!  I’ve got goosebumps.

Tip: if you are using this product in an urban setting--for instance, parallel parked next to a busy sidewalk-- it's crucial to wear a rain poncho so that it hangs down below the seat and keeps you covered. Passersby will think you're just sitting on a chair, expecting rain and reading a newspaper. Just wave to them, as cool as a cucumber, like nothing’s going on.

That will be no problem for me at all, considering my brilliant acting skills.

I do suggest, however, that you hold the poncho out to the sides at the moment of purge as any ill-timed breeze will blow the plastic cloth right under the seat. Not good. Trust me, it's a real bear to drive a few hundred miles in the humid summertime with a "dirty poncho" under your seat. I've made this ghastly error once. Notice, I said "once".
 
On second thought...

I think I’ll wait for the rest stop.

It Happens

You’ve all been there.

Perhaps it's what you ate for lunch.  Or where you ate.  Or something has you worried.

You have to go.  Badly.

But you’re not at home.  You’re at work. Or at a friend’s house. 

And you know that if your go, every breathing organism within 120 square yards will know what you were doing behind that closed door.

Of course, I have never personally experienced this scenario.

My poo doesn’t smell.

But this blog is not about me.  It is my social responsibility to identify and recommend products that may benefit my readers.  

You’re welcome.

(Although, admittedly, I will peripherally benefit from others’ usage of this product.)

The product to which I am referring is Poo-Pourri.  How can you not admire a product with a brand promise of: “Our business is to make it smell like your business never even happened”?

Poo-Pourri is a fragrance which is sprayed into the toilet before you “drop a deuce”.  (I learned that term from the Poo-Pourri video.  I'm gonna start using it.). 

I know what you’re thinking.  

How can spraying fragrance into a toilet stop the smell?  

Great question!  Poo-Pourri leaves a protective layer of essential oils that traps odors under water (in their porcelain prison).

But that is not all.   

This product not only masks unwanted odors, it ostensibly cleans the toilet bowl, erasing all evidence of the deposit.  (It may take 2 or 3 flushes if your skid marks are as tenacious as the spokeswoman’s.)

Sadly, I will not be able to test drive this product, since, as I mentioned: My poo doesn’t smell. 

I just realized that this is my second post in a row dealing with pooping.  Between the Squatty Potty and the Poo-Pourri I have become somewhat of an expert in the art of Number 2. In fact, perhaps I should change careers, considering the wealth of knowledge I have achieved.  

I could be a stinkin’ Proctologist!

But  then again, I don’t think I have the stomach to deal with proctology exams.

Unless....

OMG!  I just had one of my many scathingly brilliant ideas.  

One squirt is all it takes!  And to all you Protologists out there?  

You're welcome.

The Stool Stool

It was the product’s name that first got my attention.

But it did not take me long to recognize the significance of this amazing apparatus with the noteworthy name.  

The Squatty Potty, fits around the base of your toilet and allows you to squat, rather than sit, on your toilet seat.  

Apparently, I’ve been assuming an incorrect pooping position my entire life, potentially risking my colon and other unspeakable mysteries from within the depths of my netherlands.   

As you know, one of the underlying goals of this blog is to educate my readers (and simultaneously raise your IQs and increase your chances of breaking 1200 on the SAT.) 

You’re welcome.

To that end, allow me to explain the science of elimination.  

It is really quite simple.  The colon, which is 3-6 feet long, moves poo to the butt for elimination.  And, at the risk of getting too technical, sitting on the throne partially blocks the flow of poo, and often requires significant effort to achieve success.  

However, when perched upon the Squatty Potty, “the movements slide right out.”  In fact, according to research conducted by an Israeli scientist, when squatting, subjects averaged 51 seconds to move their bowels, compared with 130 seconds when sitting on a high toilet. 

Now that's a compelling statistic.

The Squatty Potty sounded good, but I was still a bit skeptical.  To that end, I read some reviews on Amazon.com.

"This product will help you go when you couldn't go and will help you go well when your going wasn't good. It will even keep the going good when it is good. It is all do to the squat. Quite a magical product."

"Not going into huge detail here but here's the honest truth.I WILL NEVER BE W/OUT ONE OF THESE - FREAK'N AWESOME."

"Often I would have to do it twice each morning....as a regular toilet seat never allows the rectal vault to completely empty."

OMG.  I want my own Squatty Potty.   My own stool stool.

Except the Squatty Potty is $64.99.  Way out of my blog budget.

I could always try the yellow pages, and I’m not talking about letting my fingers do the walking.  

But we only had one and I probably needed at least 3 more.   


That’s when I had my epiphany. 

 I could use my go-to accessory.  It was sitting out in the garage and really hadn't been used in years.

Not since Gypsy.  

Introducing the Nerdling Squatty Potty Pogo Stick.   

Coincidentally, my rectal vault was full.

And, at the risk of getting too personal, I will answer the question you undoubtedly have in your heads.  

45 seconds.