Rest Stops

What is the fascination men have with discussing their bodily emissions at great length and in glorious Technicolor? I swear they’d do scratch’n sniff blogging if the technology were available. (I’m laughing and shaking my head in wonder at the same time.)

This fascination with bodily waste is not generally a chick characteristic. In fact, the only girl or woman I ever knew who cared discuss such things that way was a year my junior in high school, a cheerleader named Cathy Bubblitz. Yep. Bubblitz. Big poofy platinum blonde hair. Pale pink frosted lipstick. Big wad of Bazooka cracking at all times. Raccoon eyes from eyeliner and mascara. Pink was her signature color when Reese Witherspoon was still in diapers. If you asked her she’d proudly tell you she farted pink and it smelled like bubble gum.

I have to admit, the girl had style.
_____