Letters I never got around to posting. Part 5.
Dear Dude Who Built The Toilet,
While most people will look at a hundred meter passage to the nearest toilet as an inconvenience, I personally think that I could do with the exercise; it is perfect for those long romantic hundred meter sprints at night, especially when that all-you-can-eat buffet makes its long overdue booty-call.
Son, you’re complaining to the wrong man. I can shit anywhere, anytime. It’s one of my finer qualities. Some might say my finest.
What lies at the end of this hundred meter passage though, keeps me up at night. Dad tells me that life is all about tough choices and at the end of this passage is one of the toughest choices any man, including Dad, especially after a heavy meal at Rajdhani, might ever have to make.
Even once the choice has been made, it makes me wonder as a vegetarian if the grass is greener, or at least better decomposed on the other side. While it is quite conceivable that this is an attempt to initiate an Indo-European cultural exchange, this is just another case of too many cooks spoiling the bath.
What struck me instantly was the violation of every single principle in Alfred Hitchcock’s famous work on Vaastu Shaastra, North by Northwest and a Fire Place in the Southeast Corner. In an attempt to understand the swirling whirlpool of bad karma emanating from my bathroom, I decided to get some expert opinion. As there were no Chinese Feng-Shui experts in the vicinity, the man selling illegal Chinese imports down the street would have to do.
So I got my Chinese on, met the man, and after finally convincing him that I did not have a kidney stone, and no, I did not need a laughing Buddha doll to increase my sexual drive, he agreed to look at the above picture and once he did, he concluded that the room’s yin and yang were not in balance, or in his own words, “Yin Yang, Bang Bang”. He added that the only solution was to improve the flow of Chi, which he promised could be done by buying a laughing Buddha doll.
Is all choice necessarily good? Is variety really the spice of life?
Confused, and slightly,
Constipated.
Where I’m from, they do-do in a tu-tu.
Hi,
Unless the tu-tu you refer to is some sort of revolutionary toilet that gets advertised on cable after 3 in the morning, I don’t think I could ever watch the Bolshoi perform without laughing out loud.
“Confused and, slightly, constipated” you mean. If you’re going to include jokes that nitpick on who vs whom into your repertoire, you should watch your commas too