Mrs. Poop's Pussy -- Tonsils

Mrs. Poop had strep throat. Her throat was so sore and irritated, she wanted me to take a picture so she could she what her tonsils and uvula looked like. As you can see, lots of pus on her tonsils, pussy tonsils.
Thanks to modern photography, I got this crystal clear picture.

I'd Love a Chocolate Sundae

You can't have a blog called the Poop and the logical organic nickname the Poop and expect not to get stories about Poop e-mailed to you. Nails and Master Bates and perhaps others flagged me to this Taiwanese restaurant in the LA-area called The Magic Restroom Cafe, complete with a toilet theme.

You sit on toilets

The food is served in dishes resembling toilet bowls

There are showerheads and urinals decorating the place

And the food has shit themed names like "black poop" (chocolate sundae), "smells-like-poop" (braised pork over rice), and "constipation" (zha jiang mian).

Now She's Gone Too Far

If Miley Cyrus wants to ride a wrecking ball naked, that's her business. If she wants to scratch her itchy diseased vagina with a foam finger while Alan Thicke's creepy son watches, I understand, it's all in the name of publicity. And if she wants to light up a joint on stage just because she's in Amsterdamn, that is her legal right.
But when she dresses up like a two-bit hooker with the faces of 2Pac and Biggie on her flat disgusting ass, that's when I have to say something.
Real musicians, who achieved success and fame through their talents, not through a ridiculous circus freak show of publicity stunts; real artists who created meaningful music with a story to tell and a lesson to learn, shouldn't have their images desecrated in this way.
I'd say Biggie and 2Pac and rolling over in their graves but I know they are chilling on an island somewhere with no idea who the fuck this dirty little skank even is.

Don't Fuck With Mrs. Poop

Recently our home has been terrorized by a groundhog. He is living under our sunporch and tearing up the insulation.

One day Mrs. Poop sent me the following e-mail:

"Just pulled into the driveway and the big fat fucking groundhog was up in that tree near the AC. He was so fat he was bending the tree. He jumped off it so fast as soon as I pulled in. We need to get rid of that mother fucker. He just came out again while I was sitting here and I blasted the horn at him. He's staring at me. Too bad I don't have a gun. I could shoot him right now. With just a tranquilizer dart of course and relocate him."

The next day she e-mailed me this:



She insists she is not the person who ran over our cuddly little pest. Poor groundhog looked like Henry Waxman.

The unfortunate postscript to this story is that there is at least one more of his relatives still inhabiting the space beneath our home. And I think we are going to have to construct a fence, as relying on reckless drivers doesn't seem to be a sound philosophy.

Best Hematoma Ever?

Anyone who knows me knows I have an unhealthy obession with hematomas. It all started while watching a Holyfield-Rahman fight with JLeary and Shoeb.

I love Rahman's hematoma so much I use it for my image on blogger. I even used it for my picture during lookalike week on Facebook.



But a new hematoma has emerged possibly topping Rahman's in size and gruesomeness.
Check out Mark Hominick during his fight at UFC 129 against Jose Aldo. The amazing thing is, not only did they let him fight after several doctors' checks of it (actually squeezing it at one point), but Hominick dominated Aldo in the 5th round despite this huge thing growing on his head.






















Looking back it seems like I love all UFC injuries, from Josh Koscheck's eye, to Marvin Eastman's cut (the original goat's vagina), to Brandon Vera's nose and to the most sickening, Corey Hill's broken leg.

An Idea for Razor's Next Pitch Meeting

TV commercial:

Hi, I’m Monique. When I won the Academy Award for my role in precious I gave my acceptance speech with hairy legs. I used to hate shaving, but ever since I got the Schick® Intuition Plus® I shave everyday.

It lathers, shaves and moisturizes in one easy step so there is no need for shave gel, soap or body wash.

Now my legs are smooth and my husband doesn’t sleep with random women and I don’t have to pretend I’m ok with it. All thanks to the Schick® Intuition Plus®.

Ice Dancing Is Like Kissing Your Sister

Of the 23 couples who will be competing in ice dancing at the Olympics, four are brother-sister combinations. That can be complicated when the compulsory dance is the sensuous tango.
All you need to know about how weird this will be is evidenced in this picture of John and Sinead Kerr:



The Wall Street Journal explains how these teams deal with the awkwardness.

No Good Deed Goes Unpunished

Papa Poop is a frequent blood donor and he asked me to meet him at CitiField for the Mets Blood Drive.
I took the train out there after work to do the good deed, get a ride home (he would take Chase out for lunch while Mrs. Poop and I slept) and get two free tickets to a Mets game in April.



When registering I was asked to do "Alyx" which is a special form of blood donation in which they take just your red blood cells.

So I got hooked up to the machines and the guy told me that when the pressure cuff is tight I should squeeze to pump my blood, but then the cuff would loosen, I should stop squeezing and it would send the platelets and other stuff back into my vein. We would go through three cycles of this.

But after the first cycle I did feel the cuff release pressure and I stopped squeezing but I may have been holding my fist too tight. I started to feel excrutiating pain and my arm swelled to three times the size. I thought it was unusual but figured it was what happened when they put blood into your vein. When the nurse turned around he was like "holy shit, didn't you feel that?" He explained I must not have relaxed my arm enough and the blood blood was trying to get out, while the machine was pumping it back into my arm, and the needle slowly pulled out of the vein, and pouring into my arm under the skin. He wrapped my up real tight and this is what my arm looked like the next day.



The regretable thing is that they were unable to use any of my blood which went right in the garbage. I still got my free tickets but I think I was punished for years of laughing at hematomas.

Which is Grosser?

I'm not saying I do either of these things but which is grosser, urinating in the shower or leaving floaters in the toilet due to the failure to check and see if a second flush is needed?