Thursday, July 21, 2011

Appropriate dinner conversation...

Ok, this is how it all started.

We go through two packages of baby wipes a week during the school year.  The school uses them to wipe hands and wheelchair trays and, of course, butts.  When school is out we only go through one, but Husband (who does all grocery shopping) kept buying two.  This in turn created an abundance of baby wipes.  So after unloading the groceries and stacking two more packages onto the already abundant pile I turned to husband and said, "Are we stocking up for the Poopocolaypse?"  Of course this brought much mirth and merriment me.  I amuse myself greatly. 

Well the aforementioned Poopocalypse has taken on a life of it's own.  Things such as this are being overheard on a daily basis:

"Do you smell that?"

"Oooh, I think it's an impending sign of the Poopocalypse."


"Where is (insert random family name here)?

"I'm pretty sure he/she's in the bathroom preparing for the Poopocalypse."

Or just random pronunciations at awkward times such as:


So, yeah, we are that weird.

On another note that is eerily similar...

Cy Twombly died a few weeks ago.  Our last name is Twombly and I've been told that my husband's family is related way-way-way back.  If you don't know Cy Twombly, well you're out of luck.  He's dead.

What? Too soon?  Anyway he was a very successful abstract artist known for work such as this...

Yeah, I don't get it either.  Anyway, with the heat we sometimes put boys to bed with just a diaper and sometimes they get tired of waiting for us to get to them in a timely fashion and take things into their own hands.   The day of Cy's death, such an occurence presented itself and as I put the afflicted boy in the tub I hollered to Husband to please take care of the bed....walls....floor 

Husband:  "Is it bad?" 

Me:  "Well I think Uncle Cy left Matty his artistic propensity...So there's that...yay!"

Again, we are that weird. 

Thank you for reading an entire post about poop.  Oddly, it's not my first....

Why don't I have thousands of readers? 

Smiles from the farm,


  1. Hahaha! Posts about poop are too few and far between. Really, the world needs more poop talk. It's like pillow talk but...squishier.

  2. LOL! Poopocalypse...that is priceless.

  3. I can't begin to tell you how fabulous this post is. Yes, I can. It's fabulous!!!

    One of my many favorite lines: "If you don't know Cy Twombly, well you're out of luck. He's dead." <<--- Awwwwsum!

    Do you know that every time I see your name, I think of Cy Twombly? How crazy is that? Because most people have never heard of the guy and it just so happens I have a little story about him. It's not that exciting, really, but one day, a bunch of us from work went to the MOCA in downtown in Los Angeles because we got free tickets or something and they were having an exhibit of Cy Twombly and I thought, who the hell is this guy? Anyway, I'm walking around wondering what's so great about this guy's art, I clearly don't get it because I think it looks like refrigerator art, the kind you get from your kindergarten child and slap up on the frig. And that's about the time the docent gives us this crap line about how his art is reflective of the childlike innocence in all of us, which sounds more like an excuse for painting like a 5-year-old than any demonstration of real artistry, but again what do I know?

    However, this was, like, almost 20 years ago and I still remember the guy's name - WTF? I think part of the reason I remember is because I did have another friend/co-worker whose last name also happens to be Twombly (Mark & Robin, in Southern Cal, do you know them?) so your Uncle Cy is now forever planted in my brain, and even though I don't get his art, he's clearly had an impact on me anyway.

  4. I got every bit of the hystericalness [yes, I made a word] in this post - it sounds like our home.

    I mean, when I have to ask who is taking pictures of horse penises [penii?] on my camera then poopocalypse makes complete sense to me. heehee