Home > Bathroom > Europe’s #1 Contribution to Your Butt

Europe’s #1 Contribution to Your Butt

I am currently sitting on the pot, evacuating my bowels for the 15th time today. What the crap is wrong with me? It feels like a serious case of diarrhea, but my stools are as firm as a good handshake. But that’s not relevant. What is relevant is that my butt hole is rubbed raw from all the wipage it has endured today and every time I release a fresh load it feels like a thousand fiery darts are being launched directly into my anus. As I sit and ponder my unfortunate situation, I can’t help but yearn for the days of yesteryear. You see, there was a period in my life when I wasn’t plagued by the troubles of over-wiped a-hole. When poo finger was eliminated and butt rot was virtually nonexistent. It was a much simpler time when I could sit and enjoy a good duke without the apprehensive anticipation of a painful undercarriage clean up. This bowel movement bliss was made possible through my introduction to the toilet’s under appreciated European cousin, the bidet.

A few years ago I spent some time in a foreign country. I soon discovered that every bathroom had a strange fixture next to the toilet. Upon learning the purpose of this apparatus and the general method of usage, I was disgusted with it and mocked all who used it. But I would soon learn the error of my ways. After about 6 months of continued TP usage, I sat down on the pot one day to drop the kids off at the pool, finished my business, and noticed the empty roll on the holder. As there were no extra rolls under the sink, I had 2 options. I could use my roommate’s towel to clean the red-eye or I could go against everything I believed in and straddle the fountain for midgets.

I chose the bidet. And it changed my life. As the rush of luke-warm water hit my soiled basement, my fears and misconceptions of this God-given contraption washed away, just like the poo particles from my anus being washed down the drain. For the next year, I didn’t lay hands on a single piece of toilet paper and I never felt more fresh and vibrant in my life. Instead of smearing poo across my bottom until the TP in hand looked mostly free of brown streaks, I would give my anus and surrounding areas a personal shower each time I went #2. No more painful wipes. No more chafed nut rub. Life was good.

When I returned home, my reintroduction to bidet-free American bathrooms was a sad and unpleasant one. The toilet paper on my soft, tender backside felt like sandpaper. It just felt so unnatural and environmentally unfriendly. But I slowly callused up and eventually assimilated back into this toilet paper society we call America.

But it’s days like today that I long for the warm fountain of goodness that made me feel so clean, confident and carefree.

  1. August 17, 2011 at 7:58 pm

    Doogan – truth has never been told so elequently as it is here. You’d think the land of the free, the home of the brave, would adopt such magical and wonderful contraptions. Don’t they know that cleanliness (in this case of the butt) is next to godliness? I have used bidet’s and seen the light. Thanks for bringing this to the world.

  2. August 18, 2011 at 4:08 pm

    You could always try and hoover over a sink and use your hand to splash some water up? 🙂 I think I about pissed myself on the line “but my stools are as firm as a good handshake”.

    • August 18, 2011 at 6:25 pm

      I just got an image of Doogan hovering over the sink and I threw up in my mouth (don’t worry, I swallowed it back down again.)

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