Robservations – Vol I

Hello, my name is Rob. You may know me from my terrible photo manipulations, most notably my crescent roll shaped penis (coined by @Suttonlacesout). I can’t help it, it’s too adorable. If that doesn’t ring a bell, perhaps you are familiar with my ongoing saga “Game of Inches”. If you haven’t read it, then you are missing out literature in its highest form. On that note, I will also be contributing colorful articles here on FinsLook.com, home of “4th & Inches – Elite Dolphins Talk”.

As you are aware, this Dolphins podcast/website is different from all others. How many Dolphins podcasts do you know that talk about shitting ninja stars, or have their own stories about fantastical creatures with enormous ‘scrotes’? If you want to read articles about wide nines, wide receivers and tight ends, you are probably a perv, as these all sound like categories on Youporn- most likely the gay section. (I’m not judging, be yourself. I support your lifestyle.)

I guess this is a good place to warn you. I will probably, at some point, offend you in one way or another- suck it up buttercup. What was I saying? Oh yeah! While I will discuss topics related to the Miami Dolphins- don’t plan on any film review, discussions about different offensive and defensive formations, when and how they are used, or anything like that. If you like that stuff, cool, there are plenty of places you can read about that stuff, but it bores me to tears. I don’t want to shit on people who do that. There is a lot of quality work happening.

This is a place to roll your eyes and hang your head in shame, as I assume you will finish the article and then feel guilty about doing so. Maybe you will just skim through it, like I do with everything I read. That’s fine, asshole! Anyway, without further ado, let’s get on with it…

4th and inches was built on a foundation of two subjects: The Miami Dolphins, and toilet gasket usage (to go bare-ass or not). I am 39-years old, and I have never used an ass gasket, ever. Look, I am not going to sit on a seat covered with piss, shit, or curly Q’s. I am not a savage. I will get some paper towels and wipe down the seat. If I have time and the bathroom isn’t busy, I may even use soap and water and then dry it off. This method is very risky though. I can’t tell you how many times, at my old job, that I would be halfway through the cleaning process and some dirty motherfucker would waddle his ass into my freshly wiped stall as I am throwing away the cleaning towels. As I said earlier, I am not a savage. You never flush paper towels, unless you are a piece of trash human.

The idea of using an ass gasket never crossed my mind. I am not a quick shitter, and usually I produce a thin layer of sweat between my ass and the seat. The thought of sitting on a soggy piece of paper is not enticing. In all honesty, I would rather sit on a droplet of pee. However, over the last few months the “bare-ass” debate got me thinking. I am old enough to know that just because I haven’t done something before, doesn’t mean it’s bad or that I won’t like it. A few days ago, this existential debate manifested itself in real life, and I have forever been changed.

It was the Sunday after the Dolphins played the Panthers (See?! Dolphins related story!). We had driven to Charlotte on Friday morning, munching carrot sticks and hummus on the way. We got there and found a little vegan spot where I ate fried Thai chili cauliflower and a vegan fried chicken sandwich. We got back to our hotel, where I bare-assed. We went to the game and ate a mushroom pizza right after. It was around midnight. We then traveled back home the next day. This may seem like unimportant information, but I believe it is relevant to the story.

Flash forward to Sunday morning… (I may have had a little poo sesh on Saturday, but not enough to clear out the random shit I had eaten the day before). My wife and I decided to go shopping at Wal-Mart. Anyone who grocery shops there knows that it is the best time to go. My guts were a little grumbly that morning, but nothing out of the ordinary– or so I thought.

About 20 minutes into the shopping excursion, I thought to myself: “Hmm, I might have to poop when I get home.”

10 minutes after that, I thought: “I may have to shit at Wal-Mart!”

10 minutes after that: “I may shit my pants!”

This is when the internal debate began. Can I make it home? I told my wife I may have to go to the bathroom.

“Honey, I think I have to take a shit.”

“Here?”

“Yes”

“Ok.”

“No, I will hold it till we get home.”

“Ok..”

“No, I have to go now!”

“Ok… Give me your wallet so I can pay for these groceries.”

Just for the record. Sometimes eating vegan can result in unpredictable bowel habits: 0- 100 in a matter of seconds, if you catch my drift.

We were in the produce section, which was in the front of the store. You never shit in the front of the store. You use the bathrooms in the back. Everyone knows that. Ok, maybe not everyone. For the sake of transparency, I have taken way too many shits at Wal-Mart. I ain’t proud, but shit happens. So, this intestinal cramping intensified; my rectum felt like it was pulsating like the bass line from Queen’s classic rock song “Under pressure”. It was on! If I didn’t waddle to the back of the store right then, I’d be in big trouble. Flop sweat was forming, and my butthole felt like a little finger was trying to poke out from the inside. This was way too much stress for a Sunday morning! What if the bathroom was a hot mess? I ain’t have time to make it back to the front of the store and survey that situation, but luckily, the bathroom had been cleaned. God is real!! Praise!!

So I made it to the handicapped stall, and there it was, the metal housing that contains the sheets of paper that separates the bare-assers from the rest of the world. Why, in this time of crisis I thought it would be a good time to try using one for the first time is beyond me.

I pulled out the first sheet and it ripped in half. I pulled out the other half and threw it in the toilet. Goddammit!! I pulled out a second sheet and accidentally droped it in the toilet. What the fuck? I pulled out the third sheet and set it on the seat. I went to sit down, and my butt cheek pushed half of the gasket into the toilet. Screw this! I placed my bare ass on that cool Wal-Mart toilet seat and fired away. Relief at last!!

What I didn’t realize was that all these gaskets created a shit raft. It was like a little poo refugee trying to flee its tiny communist island because of a tyrannical dictator. I am used to being separated from my poos by about 6 inches of water. To see this poo so close was a little unsettling, to be honest. It made me realize how photo-realistic the poo emoji is, well, except for the eyes and smile. So, I waved goodbye and sent him on his way. I like to imagine that he found the peace he was looking for and will spend the rest of his days raising a family and working hard for an honest day’s pay- but I digress.

What did I learn from this little adventure? Bare-assing is so much easier. Those gaskets are a pain in the ass. Why would anyone take the time or put that much effort into doing something that probably doesn’t even protect you from anything? I mean, urine is sterile. Maybe I am just bitter because I don’t know how to use it properly, and it makes me feel like a dummy. I want to believe that it is merely the universe’s way of creating diversity, and it’s up to us accept this challenge. Some use paper under their butts to poop and others don’t. That’s ok! We should embrace it. There is nothing wrong with being different. I can see it now- bare-assers and non-bare-assers holding hands and ushering in a new era of acceptance and peace, one BM at a time.

Oh, and one more thing… #InchesBetter

 


Letter from the Editor: While management does not condone the bare-assing of public toilets, we are still quite pleased to have Rob on the team. If you would like to support his soon-to-be award-winning writing career, please use the share button below and spread his work far and wide.

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