Yes, it is true. I have a dysfunctional digestive system. I am not in the mood to give you the exact title and definition. For the purpose of this post it really doesn’t matter, in part because I haven’t the foggiest idea where I am taking this yet.
Like a lot of my writing it is a journey in which I go whichever way the road takes me. If I head up the 101 I may stop at the Big Yellow House in Summerland, Pea Soup Andersens in Buellton or some other joint for no good reason other than I feel like it.
Although the reality is that my dysfunctional digestive system often requires me to make adjustments on the fly. I may be king, but the stomach is the cruel emperor and upon occasion it requires attention. It brooks no disobediance, when the call comes I must heed it quickly or risk a messy situation. Thus far I have proven to be the victor. The secret has been determination, the ability to thread through traffic at high speeds, the willingness to use the great outdoors and a very strong sphincter. I know, that is really graphic, but this is stinky business.
My dysfunctional digestive system has played a sizeable role in my life. At times I have skipped social events and have been late to work several times. When I was younger I was late on dates and actually missed a few. But there was no good way to say to these women that I would be happy to go out to eat, but I am not eating. As I recall from my dating days about half of them would order and then not eat anyway.
Some attribute my my dysfunctional digestive system to diet. That is only partially true, sometimes it doesn’t matter what I eat, it punishes me. So to piss it off I eat all of the foods that I am not supposed to. Nothing like cutting off your nose to spite your face.
My dysfunctional digestive system is an attention whore. It is not uncommon for my stomach to rumble loudly, so loudly that people nearby can hear it. And it is not uncommon at dinner parties for the host/hostesses to worry that they have poisoned me because of the rumbling.
But there are worst things. Some of the bits that you have seen in the movies have happened to me. I have gone back to my date’s apartment for a nightcap and had to suddenly rush to the bathroom. Better yet, the bathroom was occupied by the roommate and when finally available I discovered that it did not have a fan or toilet paper.
SO I know that you are asking yourself why would someone sit down without checking for toilet paper. And to my female readers I ask a similar question. How hard is it to check and see if the seat is down.
The lack of a fan has also been problematic. All that rumbling results in action, expressive bodily functions that are not “appropriate” for sharing that early in the dating process. Sometimes I have demonstrated my tremendous ability to sing loudly. Did I ever mention that, I can really belt it out. The problem is that most people find it to be more exciting to be belted rather then listen to the soft, sweet dulcet tunes I produce.
Another fine aspect of my dysfunctional digestive system is my tremendous ability to imitate a balloon. Sometime my dysfunctional digestive system blows me up like one big bloated object. Too bad it doesn’t make me lighter than air, I would be pleased to float all over and my dysfunctional digestive system also provides the power to propel me forward.
Maybe I’ll contact the patents office and try and determine if I am able to put a patent together on this idea. It could solve my commute problem.