Tag Archives: Valentine’s Day

Top 5 Ways Bathroom Behavior Keeps the Romance Alive

15 Feb

(This might be a day late – Sorry Jane! – but the advice is still relevant. Enjoy!)

5. Keep the bathroom supplied with soft toilet paper and plenty of flushable wipes.

There are some grocery items one can be stingy about and compromise by purchasing off-brands.  Toilet paper is NOT one of them.  Don’t skimp.  I once had a coupon for a cheaper brand of toilet paper and my ass paid for it.  I couldn’t wait to be done with that last scratchy roll.  Flushable wipes are also indispensible.  If you are unaware of why, then you have missed the boat.  Pick some up during your next shopping trip and then try to live without them.  How does this help in the romance department?  ‘Freshening up’ becomes quick, easy and efficient.  Afternoon Delight becomes reality. Enough said.

4. Apple Cinnamon air freshener.  Everything else just smells like flowers and ass.  If you live with your  partner then this is a necessity.  Nothing kills the mood like walking into a wall of funk your loved one has left behind.

3. Gentleman: Seat Down!  After sitting waist deep in watered down urine at 3 in the morning I will probably not be up for a round of morning nookie.

2. Farting is not a viable bed-warming option.  Decompress the gas chamber before you come to bed—preferably in the bathroom where there is a healthy stock of apple cinnamon spray.

1. Keep the bathroom door closed.  And locked.   Couples that crap together do not stay together—they just turn into dysfunctional sibling relationships where one tries to one-up the other in the gross-out department.  And while comparing the length and girth of bowel movements can be fun and funny, it’s definitely not romantic.

That being said, READING funny stories about OTHER people’s bodily malfunctions is totally acceptable.   So cuddle up with a copy of Flush This Book and your loved one – laughter is the best aphrodisiac of all!


Love Stinks

14 Feb

“It smells like shit in here.”

This is never what you want to hear first thing in the morning. My husband, Brendon, had just arrived in the kitchen.

“Where’s the dog?” I asked.

“Gretzky!” Brendon called.

Gretzky was hiding. Not a good sign.

“He took a dump in his bed,” I announced with genuine incredulity.

“Oh, no. Why would he do that? Why didn’t he wake us up?”

“I think I have an idea,” I said, a little ashamed.

Some pet owners think their animals are capable of extraordinary loyalty and understanding. I am definitely in this category. When my daughter was only three months old she had a fever that spiked without warning in the middle of the night. Well, it was without warning to me- a mere human with limited olfactory capabilities. My dog, Gretzky, had been sniffing at the infant, licking her profusely and pacing back and forth between the baby and me for the previous twenty-four hours. Gretzky had even fallen asleep in front of the baby’s nursery door, something he had never done before. The dog always slept on the floor of the master bedroom.

I had paid no attention to the dog. He had tried to tell me, but I thought he was merely being annoying. Despite my oblivion, Gretzky had been attempting the proverbial Lassie routine (Come on everyone. Follow me. Timmy’s trapped in the well), but to no avail. Our little girl woke up wailing at three in the morning with a high fever, and the dog was already waiting crib-side with hound dog eyes that said I told you so. Needless to say, I felt terrible for having dismissed his doggy clues. I don’t relay this story so that you will understand when I dress my dog up like Superman for Halloween. Just know that he is sensitive and in tune with our family and their physical and emotional well-being.

My husband is my best friend and we rarely argue. I’m not trying to be corny or gushing. It’s a fact. When we do argue it is generally a heated discussion with no yelling, some emotionally charged rants punctuated by uncomfortable silences, followed by much needed and deserved apologies. Then life goes on. That really is it. We never go to bed angry. Except that one time.

Most couples have that one fight that was a real doozey. Our doozey is actually comical in retrospect, but at the time it seemed so serious. There were even real tears. Basically it involved my husband’s aversion to giving a kid extra vitamins and my belief in doing exactly that during flu season. Then, in the middle of the debate, I chuckled to myself that we were arguing about vitamins.

Rule of couples fighting #1- Don’t laugh until the other party is at least cracking a smile.

So, I broke the rule and the whole day sucked. For my husband. But I thought we had moved on. After all, I already found the whole thing mildly entertaining. Yeah… um. See Rule #1. We entertained for dinner that night in our home, and I thought the remainder of the day and evening had been salvaged without a hitch. Until the buffer of company left. Apparently, the Vitamin War was still on.

Thinking the whole thing absurd, I resolved not to give hubby the satisfaction of an unwarranted apology or grace him with my presence. After we put our daughter to bed, I grabbed a book and headed upstairs, leaving him to lounge in front of the TV by himself. I pretended to read for about an hour. Then two hours. Then three. No footfalls on the stairs coming up to apologize or talk. Fine. I can wait. Then the TV clicked off and he went to bed. Fine. I fell asleep upstairs.

The dog was utterly confused. For the hours Brendon and I were giving one another the silent treatment, Gretzky was in crisis. The poor pooch paced back and forth, whining. He trotted up and down the stairs trying to find a spot to rest that wasn’t tainted by tension. I awoke at five in the morning and made my way downstairs to the bedroom. Gretzky was nowhere to be found.

Without saying ‘good morning,’ my husband got out of bed at eight and wandered into the kitchen. When I heard his shitty announcement, I leapt out of bed and followed him.

“So why do you think he shit his bed?” My husband really didn’t get it.

“He was upset that Mommy and Daddy were fighting. He didn’t even know where to sleep last night.”


And then we made eye contact and smiled.

“I’m sorry,” we overlapped each other.

“See, Gretzky. Mommy and Daddy love each other.” Brendon made a big show of grabbing my ass and kissing my lips. Then we kissed and hugged in earnest. Then we helped one another clean up the dog shit. And that, my friends, is marriage.

Happy Valentine’s Day.

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