Some time ago, I divulged the sheer delight my family takes in poop, fart and/or butt talk in a blog titled “Potty Humor“. I also learned that we are not alone, as several people wrote to tell me their family is the same way. Phew.
The Joy of 'Mad Libs' (tm)
From personal experience, I know that the humor found in poopy talk isn’t going to go away any time soon (if ever), so imagine my glee when I picked up our “Mad Libs” book and saw the following. (Bloggers note- I shall underline the words they entered, but omit the -noun or verb- part):
One night I was sitting alone in my mom’s bed, sipping a cup of poop juice, as I read from an old poop. Suddenly, there was a poopy noise coming from the poop. The hair on the back of my poop stood straight up, and I got cat bumps all over my body. Then I remembered: this poop was supposed to be haunted. Someone or something was down in the poop. I heard clanking poops as if a poop were being dragged across the floor of the poop. The room suddenly became very poopy and cold. A big white poop floated right through the door. I nearly pooped in my pants. Speaking in a poopy voice, the ghost said something I’ll never forget if I live to be 1,000,000. “I’ve just come from the bathroom, and you’re out of poop paper.”
I could not be more proud.