I suppose  it had to end. The holidays are over. As the tree gets packed away along with my easy access to candy canes, I can’t help feeling a dark wave of melancholy crushing me into a downward spiral of debilitating depression.

Then I think of my favorite poo joke and I laugh like hell. Here it is:

Knock, knock? Who’s there? Diaper. Diaper who? Diaper Rash.

Get it?!  Diaper RASH. Oh, man. I gotta catch my breath. That one always kills me. It’s an oldie but a goodie.

Seriously, how can anything be that crucial when you’ve got poo and pee jokes to carry you through?  Once, when I wasn’t in the greatest mood,  a kid showed me his Silly Bandz in the shape of a toilet. I almost lost it. IT WAS IN THE SHAPE OF A TOILET. Freakin’ HI-larious.

You’d think, maybe by now,  I would’ve moved on in my humor repertoire but I’m still enamored by all things toilet-related. I think everyone should be.  Occasionally, I like to inform my parents in great detail the size, color and (perceived) texture of the gems I’ve left.  For some reason they never seem interested. My mom in particular. She’s not a fan of the poo. I’ve heard her says she doesn’t even like scatological humor.

When she popped me out did she also pop out her funny bone?!

Get this: She can’t even stand the word “fart”  and would prefer if I said “passing gas” instead.  “Passing gas?!” Are you freakin’ kidding me?!  Pretty clinical for a sound that inspired the illustrious Whoopie Cushion.  Look, everyone I know says fart. It’s a funny word for chrissakes.

Here’s a simple test. Which sentence is funnier?

A) (Accompanied by relentless flatulence sound effects) Oh, noooooo!!! My doll won’t stop farting! Pee-yew!! (holding nose and running in circles around the room like a crazy person.)

B) (No sound effects) My doll continues to pass gas.

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