Adding “waffle” to the end of any word is just going to make it funnier

If you are like me and are living in a house where the males outnumber the females by any margin, then you know that doodie is gonna get a lot of laughs. In fact, in my house, just dropping the word “poop” is gonna elicit a fit of giggles from someone. I guess I’m used to it from growing up with 2 brothers. It wasn’t until I was 9 that my sister came along and evened up our numbers but I’m sure at that age I still thought poop was pretty hilarious.

But once I entered my teens and wanted poop and all of its byproducts to be strictly off limits for topics of discussion, I knew that if I showed this sign of weakness my brothers would attack. And not just by embarrassing me with their farts around my boyfriends and friends, but by setting me up to take the fall for their stench. So I tried to be as unfazed by shit as possible. This turned out to be an epic fail. Why? Two reasons.

1. I walked into the kitchen once while one of my brothers was making a sandwich. I was immediately assaulted by a raunchy odor that could have only come from someone’s ass. But, wanting to ignore the reality that is his fartitude, I simply said to my brother, “Dude. I think that mayonnaise is bad.” Of course he fell out laughing and said, “No, you idiot. I farted.” The good thing is that whenever he brings up bad mayonnaise, I know to evacuate the room.

2. My stomach hurt so badly one time when I was at Tom’s office that I thought I was critically ill. He asked me if I needed to go to the doctor and I refused. But once I was laid out on his floor, he called and got me in immediately. They x-rayed my abdomen and Tom and I were waiting patiently in the exam room. And then the doctor had the bad sense to bust in and ask, “When was the last time you had a bowel movement? You’re full of gas.” Like he could see the gas on the x-ray! I swear. Tom was so focused on his magazine at that moment that I thought his eyes were going to bore holes through it. I knew he was trying not to laugh. Since then, Tom has never been allowed to go with me to the doctor. But that is what happens when partners are too polite to pass gas around one another, people! Someone ends up at the doctor having the contents of her bowels x-rayed and made a permanent part of her file. Tom swears that the doctor has that x-ray hanging in his office and that he drew stink lines on the sides of it. Rude.

Despite these embarrassing stories and my poor sense of judgment in publishing them, I still do not embrace doo-doo. I still insist that Tom maintain a 20-foot distance from my bathroom when it’s occupied. He should never think it’s okay to try to talk to me through the door. He should never think it’s funny to jiggle the handle like he’s walking in.

Speaking of stomach and bowel activity, check out this picture of the felt stomach visual aid I brought home from Tom’s office.

It's red because the stomach is ANGRY about being stapled.

No, Tom did not make that to hang on my bathroom door. This was made by a doctor….of medicine. Actually, he’s a surgeon. That’s right. If you’re thinking about having a gastric bypass surgery don’t be surprised if you see one of these handy life-like felt stomachs in the operating room. It’s how surgeons remind themselves which part of your intestines to cut and reattach to your new small stomach. Seeing this makes me feel as qualified as anyone to be surgeon, especially since I’ve had the Operation game since I was 7. Check it:

Game ON, bitches.

And in completely unrelated news, I was super sweet and brought Tom a café au lait today. He told me the coffee was kind of weak. Next time he gets a McDonald’s Café Classic. I just love those commercials where they put a new classy spin on everyday situations by adding an accented “e” at the end, like turning chore into choré. It makes me want to put a classy, French spin on words I happen to use a lot, like the following.

1. Asswipe. Assweepé.
2. Crackwhore. Crackwhoré.
3. Herpes. Her-pés (silent “s”).
4. Asshole. Assholé.
5. Cuntface. Cuntfacé.
6. Douche. Douché.
7. Twatwaffle. Twatwafflé.

To be honest, writing this post is my first date with the term “twatwaffle.” I don’t know why I’ve never heard it before, but I’m certainly going to put it to use now. I mean, I’m not gonna use it around kids, like the tragic mistake I made with chickenhead, but I am going to use it liberally around adults. I’m a little torn between definitions of it though. Urban Dictionary says that it could be 1. when a woman wears tight jeans without underwear and the hard seams painfully mash themselves into her undercarriage, leaving an angry red waffle-like pattern, e.g. When Jerri first heard of what getting a twatwaffle was, things just got real for her. or 2. a term to describe a girl at work who appears to be sweet but often settles disputes via bitchy e-mails and believes that she is superior to her coworkers e.g. Dude, did you see that e-mail Candy sent out yesterday about the timesheets? That girl is such a little twatwaffle. I think the example about things getting real for Jerri is my favorite, but my best option is probably to just use it as I see fit.