This, my friends, is an important post. I'd like you to sit down with your family, put little Timmy on your knee, and get ready to talk about Drugs, and how they're bad, mmkay? I know you've probably already had an awkward, not to mention hypocritical, conversation about the evils of drugs with Timmy, along with the requisite warnings about your brain, and how it looks in a frying pan, and whether it goes better with toast or an english muffin, or how to tell if a girl really likes you or is just using you for your drug connections (she is), but this is different.
This is a story of how there are two types of people in the world. Many years ago I was having a rather innocent conversation about annoying gym habits, and I mentioned that I had seen a girl flossing her butt with her towel and it grossed me out. A friend responded with "What, you DON'T dry your butt?" And so the great debate was on. It turns out that there are the ass towel people, and the non-ass towel people. If you are an ATP, you step out of the shower, grab your rich, absorbent towel, and proceed to dry your body, including the crack of your ass. The crack which contains the asshole. The asshole out of which your bacteria laden feces come.
As you might be able to tell already, I'm not an ATP. I am an NATP. I prefer to dry the cheeks and let the crack air dry. No, I do not wave my butt around while spreading my cheeks like some have suggested, and I certainly don't use the hairdryer, as others have suggested (although it sounds kind of fun). I simply don't believe in rubbing a piece of cloth over my asshole and then wiping my face with it. Apparently some people think that's weird.
This conversation has come up many, many times since the original debate. It will never die, because if there is one thing people like to do, it's separate themselves into religious camps. Another example of this behavior would be the peaceful, nature-loving, skilled sailing people vs. the impatient, phallicly-compensating, nature-destroying powerboat yahoos. Again, I fall on the side of right, with the sailboat people. Which isn't really fair, since I like to water-ski and jet-ski and such, but whatever, it's fun to get all moralistic about irrelevant things.
I know, Timmy's getting restless, so I'll get back to the drugs, I just needed to set the background in case you, dear reader, were somehow unaware of the seething ass towel debate. So, a couple of weeks ago a friend and I were going to a concert. I cannot go to concerts without smoking pot. Concerts without pot are torture for me. Yes, I am a lower-life form with no soul or class, or appreciation of the finer bits of life, this is not news. Luckily, I'm a one-hit wonder when it comes to pot, and on top of that I very rarely smoke it anymore, so I'm even more of a lightweight. I can get a contact high passing by the Berklee auditorium entrance. So, said friend and I smoked a little before we went. Said friend is not a one-hit wonder. Said friend taught cheech and chong how to hit that shit. Said friend got me absolutely bonkered.
Said friend is also an ATP, but she has many other wonderful qualities, so we hang out anyway. After getting me totally bonkered, Ms. ATP and I are in the car, on our way to the concert, and Ms. ATP says "So Frank and I were going to get you an ass towel." The very first thing that popped into my head at that point was the image of a towel with a giant embroidered ass on it. Probably a satin one. Something like this:
For obvious reasons, I was excited about the prospect, so I said in a kind of high-pitched screaming sort of way, "Like a towel with a giant embroidered ass on it?!"
"No"
I was a little disappointed, but I quickly racked my drug-addled brain for what other incarnation of an ass towel she could possibly mean, and this time I came up with a towel with a giant embroidered pile of shit on it. Like so:
Now I was even more excited, because if scatological humor is your thing, people it doesn't get much better than this. I could already picture where to hang the towel. So this time I definitely screamed, "OH! You mean like with an embroidered pile of dookie on it?!" (It didn't seem appropriate to curse, too crass).
At this point Ms. ATP looked a little horrified, and yelled back, "NO! Like a towel, with Ass on it!" *Picture her grandly sweeping her hand across the air, a la Your Name In Lights.*
With that sweeping gesture, I understood her vision. She meant this:
And it made so much sense. It was so much more than a towel with a giant embroidered pile of crap on it. In my moment of epiphany, I screamed at the top of my lungs....
"OH! OH! OH! OH! Aaaaaaaaaaaaass towel!! Like with a label, and specifically for my ass! Yeah!"
It was at that point that we realized the windows were down and we were stopped in the middle of Coolidge Corner. If you're not familiar with Coolidge Corner, it's basically ground zero for elderly jewish ladies in Boston.
So that, Timmy, is one of the dangers of drugs that you probably haven't already heard about. If you aren't careful, you may find yourself some day having epiphanies about giant embroidered asses (bad enough by itself) and sending little old ladies running for the relative safety and culture of the Gaza Strip. Now go to bed, I still haven't gotten my ass towel, and it's making me cranky.
I didn't think it would take so long to tell the story of the ass towel, but it did, and that's fine because I'm procrastinating. I'm procrastinating because I really don't want to do my orgo problem set. The last lecture was all about electrocyclic ring closures and sigmatropic rearrangement, which may sound fascinating to you, but no, in actuality it was so boring I wanted to pick my own eyes out with an escargot fork just to liven things up. Ha, look at me, I'm all eyeless and distracting the other students! You may take my eyes, but you'll never take my freedom!
Recent Comments