I recently discovered that girls actually poo. Before this revelation, I was led to believe that the only things that came out of a girl’s ass were diamonds and lollipops. I could not have been more wrong. Don’t think that I’m not on to you, ladies. Every time you excuse yourself from the dinner table to go “freshen up” you’re actually gallivanting off into the washroom to do anything but wash. You’re shitting up a storm, dropping a massive deuce, making bears, and doing the same thing that every self-respecting man does twice daily. This saddens me. It took me a while, but I’ve managed to come to terms with the fact that defecating is a natural process for humans, even those of you with vaginas. What really frustrates me is the odour that emanates from the lavatory after you’re through. With guys, you know what to expect, we don’t try and hide our intestinal transgressions. The stench is bold, blatant and in-your-face. We’re not about to spray the whole house down with Fabreze just because grandma is feeling nauseous or the dog passed out. If I spin up a giant coiler, or fabricate an aroma that could knock out an African elephant, I’m not going to be ashamed. I will climb the tallest mountain, stand proud and shout to the world that “I am Man, Smell my Shit”.

Girls on the other hand, always act all guilty and tiptoe around the house for the next three hours as if they just assassinated the Pope or something. The smell in and of itself is an ambiguous thing to describe and I’m not quite sure if I can put my finger on it. You enter the washroom; maybe start to run the faucet. You think today will be like every other day, but it’s not. Something is different; you can feel it in your bones. Your nose hairs start to stand on end, and you quickly realize something is amiss. At first you might even think that the aroma you’re experiencing is a pleasant one, but things make a turn for the worse and the silent assassin that is girl poo slowly starts to seep into your consciousness. This is what I hate most about girls defecating. It creeps up on you like a deadly ninja, or a bad case of herpes. A man’s shit can be detected from a radius of approximately 3 miles, sometimes even further. My friend once went backpacking in Europe and he called me from Berlin to tell me that I should really consider laying off the five-alarm chili.

So from now on, I think there should be some ground-rules set up for any man who lives in close proximity with those of the fairer sex. If you are going to be committing the atrocious act of girl poo, please for the love of God, give us some warning. It’s the least you can do. It’s bad enough that we have to see your tampon wrappers lying around, or worse yet that empty box of Vagisil. The other option is to stop crapping altogether. Or at the very least, make it an annual occasion. We can have a festival or something to commemorate the one time a year you all get to shit. Royale will sponsor it and Fergie will be the headlining musical act. If you can make these compromises for us, we’ll all promise to stop blowing our farts in your face while you sleep. Oh, you didn’t know about that? Well, we all learned a little something today then, didn’t we?