A Potty Humor Break

No not a break FROM potty humor. A break FOR potty humor. It's Monday, for crap's sake. You're welcome.

In Texas, we take our crappers seriously. It's probably the biggest reason some Texans think we should secede from the union and become our own country -- when you spew a big enough load of shit, you really need an additional place to put it all. So without further a-doo-doo, here's a parade of our state treasures from the Thunderbox Road project.



This little beauty was built by Ben Beckendorf. I think it boldly goes where just a few people have gone before and captures the harmonious spirit of Austin, the live music capital of the country. Hang up yer hat, Bubba, it's time to do yer doody.

(click on the images for bigger, more detailed views)





This Thunderbox was by Gwendolyn Listerman. I feel certain she has captured the majestic beauty of Texas' ranch life with these wild horses. The secret message underlying this project is not lost on me, though. When one has to go, one has to GO, and sometimes at a full gallop.






This gem was made by the dynamic duo of Betty Rhodes and Greg Glowka. I think they did a fine job of illustrating farm life in Texas. Ya got yer billy goat and ya got yer rooster, and naturally, they all git along jes' fine. And since those critters poop everywhere you step, they should not be at all bothered by what we Texans do inside the kaboom box.






Dotti Brundrett is undoubtedly tired of all the attention rednecks get simply for being rednecks, so she put her aquarium powers to good use with the fish tank theme. Masterfully done, too, you ask me. I believe the meaning behind Dotti's choice tells us that once you're inside and doing your bidness, you will need to hold your nose.









Every man - and woman - really does need a throne. David Querbach has fashioned just the right Thunderbox for ye royal highney. Go in style in a perfectly appointed mini-castle, and you'll feel like a real part of the Dudor Dynasty. King Henry VIII is smiling right now--or aghast.






There you have it! A fun treasury of Thunderboxes from Texas. You can find more info about the Thunderbox Road project and the talented artists who made them by visiting this website: http://www.thunderboxroad.com/index.html.

Was that a gas or what? I don't ever want to hear you say I never shared any of my crap.
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Look familiar? This is a post from 2009 that seemed to bear repeating.

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Vagina Vagina

Thanks to Hilary at The Smitten Image
for selecting this a Post of the Week. 
Click the link above and go check out
her gorgeous photography!

I am sitting on the couch in my GYN's office and we are discussing lady infections, or as I like to call them, infuctions. Doc has on his white lab coat and sits across from me with one leg over the other, speaking nonchalantly yet with some formality about vaginas and sexual intercourse and the flora that naturally exist in there but which get out of balance from time to time. Then Doc says with a complete straight face that one of the infections we women get is not an infection at all, but a colonization.

"A colonization?" I say. "Bwaaaahahahaha!"

Doc stops mid-sentence and stares at me.

I say, "Bwaaaahahahaha!" again, like a fifth grader, and then I add, "Bwaaaahahahaha! Seriously, Doc, that is so a blog post."

*crickets*

Well, come on. A colonization? In my vagina?

I can only imagine thousands of battle-weary farmer Johns, storming the valley with long-barreled muskets to sack Fort Hoohah. The unsuspecting natives are overrun 13 ways to Sunday and sent packing with just their loincloths, and suddenly Captain Flora's plucky pioneers have infiltrated the countryside, erecting little log cabins and rowing and hoeing a flourishing cotton crop. Say, how many settlers you think can fit into one vagina anyway, pilgrim?

Naturally, the first thing I did was Skype my eldest daughter, TG. She's not too old for her mama to explain the birds and the florabees. So what if she's had three kids? I've had four, and colonization is news to me. I must prepare her.

TG: Mom, you're talking about your vagina?

Me: Yes. And the flora.

TG: I don't want to talk about your vagina, or . . . that other thing.

Me: Flora. Not just my vagina, but yours too. And your sisters'. All women's vaginas. And the flora that's already in there but gets all crazy and greedy and starts land grubbing—

TG: Mom! You're talking about vaginas.

Me: Well, only cuz you have one. And I have one.

TG: Mom.

Me: What? You just don't like the word. Vagina, vagina, vagina.

TG: Mom.

Me: What?

TG: No.

Criminy. Who doesn't want to be forewarned, The flora are coming! The flora are coming!?

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