one night in a paris potty

As a man gets older, certain things in his life will begin take on more importance. For example: When I was younger, pooping was something that just happened. Now that I'm older, pooping is a goal. An achievement. Every time I poop, I'm filled with glee. So much so, that I feel the need to text everyone I know and let them know.

Paris Hilton was recently sentenced to 45 days in the pokey for a probation violation stemming from a DUI charge. She was caught drunk again and was therefore directed to serve 45 days. Normally, a judge will direct the defendant be placed in jail immediately, without passing go. In Ms. Hilton's case, she was allowed a month to prepare. She's also being given a separate cell away from the other inmates at the LA county jail so she might be able to do her "hard time" in relative safety.

I wasn't a big fan of cell phones from the start. I spoke out against them and was four years late in signing on. I'm usually the last one to jump into change. I still don't want a camera phone, or a phone with Internet access, or one with a Bluetooth ear job thing. I don't want one that plays different musical ring tones. I can barely stand the caller ID function. I screamed and shouted and did everything I could to prevent my life from becoming indoctrinated into the cell-happy world. I told my friends not to TEXT me, that I preferred a call. (TEXT is now a verb, much like LUNCH.) I fought against each TEXT message that was sent to me.

Paris Hilton's mother showed up at the hearing and loudly made her feelings known, that she didn't respect the courts, nor the prosecution's prosecution of her daughter. She used a tone that spoke of disdain and disgust and that she wouldn't rest until each member of the judge and prosecutions' families were killed.

It started as an accident. I sent a TEXT message to the little red headed girl to let her know that I was pooping. It was meant to be ironical and there was much laughter. After that, I started adding more and more people to my shit list. I wanted everyone to know that I was pooping. Let us all enjoy my morning. Let us all enjoy TEXTing together. Let us become a part of a global community that shares in every experience together. I want to make sure that everyone I know knows what I know when I know it.

Paris left the court in a huff, completely disgusted that she was being "singled out" for punishment. She felt she was being punished only because she was a public figure and that she was due some special consideration, like OJ or Robert Blake. As she saw it, she brings joy and beauty to the people of the world that lead mundane lives and she needs to be praised, not punished. Paris, always the innovator, started an online petition to appeal for clemency from California Governor Arnold Swweathcoasdfafsdunegger. She hopes that Arnold will see the logic and free her.

If I eat dairy, I can poop like seven times a day. It doesn't come out in the most pleasant form, and there is usually some pain involved, but somehow I'm able to hunker down and get the TEXT out. On several occasions I have dropped the phone in a freakish moment of strain.

I went to jail once. It was a lot like prison, but with less joy. Jail is where people go on their way to prison. It's sort of a last chance saloon where the dreams of millions have come to an end. On any night, in any jail, in any country in the world, you can hear the sad songs of desperation being sung. Some people walk out of their jail cell and find freedom, others find a one-way ticket to prison. There are people who have been in jail for two years and two minutes. There are no friends in jail, just time to kill. Your room is really small and everyone in the pod knows if you smoke, snore, like country music, how long it takes you to cum and how stinky your poop is. I personally think that jail is pretty mundane and that Paris is going to do a lot to curb that mundane-ness with her beauty and excitement.

I have added bookers, club managers and other random souls to my shit list. People who barely know me now know when I pooped and how often. Probably the greatest joy I get from informing people that I'm pooping is the fact that they all think that they're the only one and they have no idea why I'm doing it. Their TEXTs are pure genius.

Paris is going to see maybe fifteen days in jail. She will go in with handcuffs on and a large crowd of supporters outside screaming her name. She will make jail cool for a whole generation of young mundane girls. The first thing I expect her to do when she gets out is to go out and get drunk.

I keep pooping and I keep TEXTing. The only peace I can offer the world is that I am not taking my cell phone with me to Africa. For ten days, there will be no poop updates. In that time, I hope my faithful readers will turn to Paris for beauty and excitement. Perhaps the people who are blessed to know of my movements will appreciate the fact that they don't have to be around to hear it, smell it, or see it. I'm sure Ms. Hilton will appreciate that fact after her brief stay.