Things I probably shouldn’t have pissed on (in) #3
It says- I’m tired of eating your excrement and various bodily juices!
It says- Hey asshole! I’m tired of looking at your asshole! Asshole!
It says- I will forever regurgitate Mr. Brownies until you treat me with some damn respect!
That Motherfu%king toilet bastard.
Eat Shit! Oh, you do? Sorry. Enjoy!
The *real* platypus poop post
I am under no delusions of grandeur that this blog is wildly popular by any means. It serves as more an exercise in mental masturbation for me and hopefully gives the few people who actually know about it a giggle. But there has been a disturbing trend pretty much since its inception. People seem to stumble upon my little corner of the internet in search of Platypus Poop.
The top searches that lead people here are in short: platypus poop, platypus f(a)eces, platypus droppings and platypus shit. (More recently the searches have diversified into the realms of what Dobermans think, ant pile and badass chilli, though they are a small percentage.) I feel kind of bad about this, particularly if it’s some poor kid attempting to research the humble platypus and its respective poo, only to be accosted by a slightly unhinged and sweary collection of stories written by a slightly unhinged and sweary expat with a bit too much time on her hands.
It got me thinking though, how could people find this particular blog with that particular combination of words? So I did my own search and found something incredibly interesting. There is a huge hole in the interwebs regarding the toilet habits and, er, leavings of the platypus. So, young friends, I am here to help you.
As the platypus is a small mammal that has a varied diet of plants, larvae and small freshwater shrimp I would reckon that their poop is probably small and pellet like. Similar to that of a rabbit (maybe?). Deeper (much, much deeper) searching leads me to another assessment that it resembles hamster poo, but I don’t know how accurate this is because the domestic hamster and the platypus are very different creatures.
So let’s say rabbit/hamster to settle the debate. And there you have it. If there’s anyone out there that actually knows what it looks like or has a picture of said shiz, I would appreciate your input. Because, and I don’t know if this is a good or bad thing, when I do an image search for it this website pops up not once or twice, but FIVE times, on the first page no less. There is a hankering for this information, folks, so I’m just trying to fill the gap. I appreciate that my photos are turning up in a search, but I can’t imagine the thoughts that must run through people’s minds when they’re conducting a simple search to satisfy their curiosity and are accosted by a giant bowl of refried beans. Which, may resemble crap but I assure you tastes infinitely better.
Also, there seems to be another search that brings people here and that is platypus meat. And…seriously?!? Platypus meat? Why? Do people actually eat platypus? What do they taste like?
As for the remainder of the searches- Dobermans probably mostly think about chasing things and likely don’t really care for getting pissed on, ant piles can be dangerous and painful, and badass chilli is just that. Bad. Ass.
Oh my Zeus’s butthole! (douchebag boyfriend edition)
I live in a tiny, quiet ‘burg, so the shouts and loud conversations that are a particular part of everyday train journeys and city life for most people usually don’t make it down my way. Today was a different day. Today was the Day of the Douchebag.
I get on the train, as I usually do, but I get on to hear a man berating someone. At first I think it’s a phone conversation. Because, most of the time (in this digital age) when someone’s going off on another person they prefer to not do it face to face. I was astounded when I got off the train a few stops later that this man was not on the phone but speaking to his girlfriend; then out shuffles this man’s girlfriend. (Don’t get me wrong about the ‘shuffles’ comment this girl was no slouch- this chick was B-E-A-utiful.) They had managed to stop fighting for the two minutes it takes to exit the train/station, but you could see on his face he wasn’t done telling her off.
I learned the truth of my initial assessment when I saw the two of them at the pub about 30 minutes later. I stopped in for lunch. He apparently stopped in for a few drinks and some verbal abuse.
In the end, I overheard (eavesdropped) what the argument was about. Apparently, she had shown a nasty text he sent to her to one of her girlfriends while they were having a row and he was wicked pissed about it.
Okay, I get it dude, you are pissed that your girlfriend vented your personal problems to someone other than you. You’re mad that she shared your ‘issues’ with one of her mates. Which, sorry, women are wont to do from time to time. But then you proceed to call her out, repeatedly, in a public forum for strangers to hear? Hypocrite much?
He seems to let it go, asks her if she wants some crisps. She says yes. He eats all the crisps. Happily. Not sharing them with her. Shithead.
Non-sharing-crisp-motherfucker.
After he finished the crispy deliciousness, he then starts in on her again. He’s having a proper piss fit about the same old shit that he was going on about twenty minutes before! Seriously, asshat? You deny your lady some crispy cheese ‘n onion delights and then have another go at her over something you seemingly resolved?
Fuck off.
I wanna smack you. I want to shake your lady out of her lack-of-cheese-and-onion-goodness coma. Because she’s sitting there, obviously hungry nodding and ‘okaying’ your tosspottery, like a good little lamb. You. Absolute. Fucktard.
If she was smart, she’d tell you to take your text message bullshit and stick it right up your overly tight ass. She’d let you know you’re a cockhole. She’d use all the swear words, wit and charm her momma gave her to leave you sitting there crying over your pint to your friends about ‘the one who got away’, cos you’re a fecking imbecile. But she doesn’t. Sigh.
She forgives you…cries her tears and leaves with you. Ugh.
You, Mister Douchebag Boyfriend, must have a ridiculously huge penis, or have retardedly specialised lingual skills. Because any sane woman would need a proper excuse to put up with your sorry ass.
For reals. You blonde-bearded poopchute.
May you crap razorblades for the next four days. As it were.
Things I probably shouldn’t have pissed on…deux
I’ve always been an animal lover. When I was little we had a family friend who owned and bred Doberman Pinschers. She had two she kept called Beauty and Beast. These were two of the kindest, most loveable and most well behaved dogs that have ever lived and I was lucky they were, because I used to put them to the test.
I would pull them and push them. I would roughly stroke them in the way only a 3-year-old knows how. I would ‘take them to the dentist’ which meant prodding and poking around their mouths, lifting their jowls (do dogs have jowls?) and manoeuvring their tongues about to make
sure I got the best view possible. Never once did either of these dogs ever exhibit any aggressive behaviour. Ever. If they had though, I really wouldn’t have blamed them. Why? Keep reading.
One day I discovered that Beast lifted his leg to pee. I found this fascinating. I mean, I had to sit down to pee, (no nevermind I was a human female) and this leg lifty thing seemed infinitely awesome to my underdeveloped brain. So, I decided to try it.
I found that I had to prop one leg on the wall/tree/nearest vertical surface to accomplish this feat. But I think even then I was aware that shouldn’t urinate anywhere butthe toilet unless you were camping, so I had to find somewhere to do this discreetly. I couldn’t very well pee on the floor, that’s positively barbaric!
So I decided to piss on the dogs. I mean, their fur had to be a little absorbent, didn’t it?
I didn’t do this just once, oh no, this went on for a week or so. Every time I had to tinkle. I think the biggest thing that made me stop is that their owner thought the dogs were wetting themselves. That and the sad pathetic look on Beauty’s face, as if to say ‘Again? Really?? Okay.’ I remember her saying ‘Where the HELL is that smell coming from?’, realised it was the dogs,relegated them to an outdoor area for a while and I felt bad that I had lost my playmates. I don’t know if she ever figured out it was me peeing on them.
I also hope they forgive me from doggy heaven.
Please don’t pee on me. In return, I won’t eat your face off in your sleep.
They have a lot to answer for!
What are they launching? WHY ARE THEY APOLOGIES? What are they available for?
I was at the launch. Jealous?
Platypus Poop
I know what you’re looking for you sick freak! Stop it!
Things I probably shouldn’t have pissed on #1
I think it says something about me that I have enough
foresight to know that there is going to be more than one of these stories. Apparently my lack of shame started at a very young age…
Anyway, here’s #1, no pun intended.
When I was a kid we lived on a 25 acre farm and a healthy
collection of fire ant piles were dotted around the property. I don’t know what
possessed me to do it, but one day I decided that it might be fun to pee on one
of said piles. Well, as luck would have it, I lost my balance and fell ass
first into the pile where I was set upon almost immediately by hundreds of
angry ants that obviously didn’t think it was as funny to be pissed on as I
did.
Every time I tried to get up I would stumble because of the pain and end up
grinding my ass further into the pile. When I finally managed to get up and run
inside to tell my mom, covered in ant bites and piss, all she could do was
laugh at me. (This will be a reoccurring theme, I don’t blame her one bit)
In all, I was bitten/stung about 300 times with about half of those concentrated
around my poopchute. The following 2 weeks were probably the itchiest of my
life, and my mom still devolves into fits of giggles upon seeing an ant pile.
