Perfection

I love to poop. Really, there are few -- very, very few -- things more satisfying than the perfect poop. Out it slides, clean and perfect, graced with the kind of precision golfers dream of. Out one hole and in another, without fuss or hang-up.
After the perfect poop, you are lighter. Not only in the obvious, physical sense (the perfect poop weighing in 6.3 ounces), but also in a spiritual sense. You're step is lighter, your smile brighter, the laughter more carefree when you've just had the perfect poop.

Personally, I define the perfect poop by several characteristics:
1) one, or in the rarest cases, no wipes needed
2) lack of splash
3) effort, preferably lack of
4) aesthetic, as it pertains to bowl position
5) the depth of personal satisfaction upon your accomplishment

You're a little disturbed, aren't you? That's okay. We've all been brought up to think of poop as an 'improper' conversation topic. Whatever.

Moving on, my question for you, dear readers: how do you define the perfect poop? And if you could develop a rating system, how would it work?

Poop proudly, friends.

Everybody Poops

Everyone poops. It's true: from the day you're born to the day you die, you will spend your entire life pooping. Brown, green, orange, black, red, yellow: all possible crap colors. Thick or thin, watery or solid, small or large, your poop is a reflection of you. Mostly what you ate, but also the things you do. Runners, whose intestines are subjected to all sorts of unfortunate jiggling, can attest to this.

This blog, then, aims to be a reflection of who we are. Founded in one morning's conversation (while eating breakfast, no less), it rises out of a desire to catalog our poops. Having undertaken something remotely similar once before (a friend and I tallied our totals for a week; he won, 29-27), I know that, odd as it may seem, the study of scat is not without it's rewards. To test that hypothesis, my girlfriend and I will be keeping a poop diary of sorts; hopefully my brother Josh will also join us, and in time, perhaps our ranks will grow.

Who are we? What do we eat? And what comes of it? These are three key questions of identity, an exploration rarely ventured. Together we step away from our toilets proudly, producers of not only long logs, but also bowl-crowding pellets, vomit-inducing stews, the occasional kernel of corn. Join the venture. Poop proudly. And whatever you do, don't fall in.