Wednesday, August 09, 2006

Poop Stories #2 (Get it? Number 2??) and #3.

Every law that is in effect today exists because there was some kind of problem caused by the lack of this law. For example, in Missouri, it's against the law for a milk man to run while on duty. Why? Who knows, but there HAS to be a reason.

Are there dumb laws in your state? Have a look!
Amuse yourselves HERE at

Although some of these laws may sound ridiculous to us now, it's safe to assume that at the time, the parties involved felt that the ensuing drama was, at the very least, inconvenient enough to warrant taking steps to make sure that the same problem NEVER occurred again. Sometimes it's kinda funny to imagine the circumstances surrounding the origins of these laws.

Here's what I'm getting at, folks. There's a new law at the Karma house.


Oh, you KNOW there's a story. Here we go...

I need you to WIPE ME!"

No, you don't need me to wipe you, I mutter silently. You're perfectly capable of doing it yourself.

"Maaaaaaaah haaaaaaaah haaaaaaaah
Meeeeee heeeeeeee heeeeeeee heeeeeeeeeeeee!!!"

Oh, for Christ's sake.

I stood in the hallway outside the bathroom and saw Pie sitting on the throne wearing nothing but his Narnia Knight's Helmet.

Before I could stop him, he hopped down from the potty, turned around and, bending at the waist, placed his hands on the seat so as to present me his hiney.

Brief refresher course for the non-parents: "WIPE ME" means there's POOP.

In the blink of an eye, sploosh... his helmet fell right into the potty. Where the poop was. Fabulous.

He turned around with a look that wondered whether I was going to laugh or yell at him. I didn't do either. I merely stated, very calmly,

"Ok, new rule. No hats in the bathroom."

Yeah, this is quickly becoming more of a Poop blog than a Knitting blog. Sorry.

Earlier that same morning, Tito woke me at 6am by clocking me in the skull with a diaper and a package of wipes. And what do wipes mean, kids? Say it with me now:


So I sluggishly sat up and instructed T to lie down on the bed so I could clean him up. Even through my as-yet unfocused eyes, I could see something strange on his hand. I've been a mom for a while now, so my instinct was to grab a wipe, quickly clean his hand and ask questions later. As soon as I did, T gasped in horror,

"Hey! Where my Poo Finger go?!!?"

I guess Tito and Poo Finger had been having a lot of fun frolicking through sunny fields of daisies (or, more likely, coloring on walls) together until Evil Mommy tore them asunder. Instantly, the theme song from The Courtship of Eddie's Father started up on a loop inside my head.

"People let me tell you 'bout my best friend,
He's a warm hearted person who'll love me till the end (duh).
People let me tell you bout my best friend,
He's a one boy cuddly toy, my up, my down, my pride and joy.

People let me tell you 'bout him he's so much fun
Whether we're talkin' man to man or whether we're talking son to son.
Cause he's my best friend.
Yes he's my best friend."
(Yadda Yadda Yadda, Whoops).

Ok, I really, really, REALLY apologize for that. I mean, I'm sorry for the song-stuck-in-your-head aspect of the story and I'm also sorry for the visual of a little boy singing about the poop on his finger. And I'm also sorry to anyone that now feels really old for remembering that show.

Would you have preferred Shirley Bassey?

Poo Fingah (wah WAAAAAAAH wah)
He's the man, the man with the poopy touch
A proctologist's touch
Such a cold finger
Beckons you to enter his web of sin
But don't go in...

Yeeeeeah, somehow, the James Bond theme seems a little dark for a story about a three-year-old. I opted for the Best Friend song, as it is merely disturbing.

Anyhoo, R and I decided that the next time we go to a restaurant, we're going to enter our name as Poofinger, only pronounce it as Puffin-Jerr. Just to see how the hostess pronounces it. And we'll snicker with glee. You're welcome to try it at home, if you feel daring.

And here, as promised, is a pic of King Pie. This is, incidentally, the Narnia shield and sword that goes with the helmet as a set. At the time this pic was taken, the helmet was soaking in bleach. He wore the crown to the mall last night.


Bezzie said...

Poop finger...I'm dying here!!!

I think I'll opt for putting Mr. and Mrs. Shithead on the list and pronouncing it "sheh-theed."

Bezzie said...

Oh, and I forgot to mention---cute crown!!! What are those "jewels"?

you know I don't shut up!

Poops said...


*poops goes off to change her Depends*

OldLadyPenPal said...

david sedaris does a wonderful cover of 'goldfinger.' interestingly enough, in one of his short stories he mentions someone in the family using a hand towel to wipe poo.
perhaps david sedaris is part of our mystical siblingship!

Poops said...

Okay, I'm better now...

Should you ever come to NH, it is important to remember:

1. You may not tap your feet, nod your head, or in any way keep time to the music in a tavern, restaurant, or cafe. (Shhh...)
2. Any cattle that crosses state roads must be fitted with a device to gather its feces. (I'd like to see one of those "devices")
3. You may not run machinery on Sundays. (Another good reason not to mow the lawn)
4. On Sundays citizens may not relieve themselves while looking up. (Ummm, okay...)

Can you imagine the debate over number four?

OldLadyPenPal said...

Arizona, here we come.

1. When being attacked by a criminal or burglar, you may only protect yourself with the same weapon that the other person posseses.

2. It is illegal to manufacture imitation cocaine. (um, huh?)

3. Donkeys cannot sleep in bathtubs. (this was most likely proposed by desert frontier wives tired of the nasty rings donkeys leave in the tub)

And finally, my favorite, or least favorite, but just let them TRY and catch me- You may not have more than two dildos in a house. (This may explain all the time I spend in my garden...)

Joel Widdershins said...

How about the tune to the theme of "Goldfinger"?


He's got the crappy touch!"