The truth about allergies and nonmovement

As mentioned in a previous entry, the Tiffers shits quite prolifically. As a testament to the veracity of this claim, today we were forced to cut our visit to Quack’s short so as to allow her to relieve her hyperactive bowels in the comfort of our own bathroom. Not to mention, a woman and her so very atrociously ugly I couldn’t even pretend to smile (I’m on DayQuil) baby had commandeered the single stall ladies room just as the Tiffers’ colon began to agitate her.

So as the Tiffers is defecating, as usual, with the door wide open, I realize that the cause to my current allergy situation is in all likeliness, the copious amounts of poop granules floating about the air of our habitation.
Here is the conversation that followed:

The Tiffers: “My poo stinks.”

Me: ::sneeze:: “Ewwww…” ::attempted but failed sneeze:: (look into the light
goddammit!)

The Tiffers: “Hey, you shit too!:

Me: “If by ‘shit’ you mean that rose petals fall out of my butt hole, then yes.”
::eyes water profusely::

We are so ZANY!
We should be on Nickelodeon…
p.s. I realize that I made no correlation between the stench of the Tiffers poo and my allergies. C'est la vie. C'est l'amour.

Now time for interesting (seriously) discoveries I've made.

Not moving people make moving people uncomfortable, I’ve determined. Like meditating people, or people in comas, or people paralyzed with rage, or dead people, or mummies, or even people who are closing their eyes, listening to a song, headphones on, expressionless. You have to wonder, “what’s going on in there?”
Truth be told, when I’m in anyone of the aforementioned states, I’m often made uncomfortable by my own self, and the possibilities of what could be going on in my mind. I’m made further uncomfortable by the idea that other people are looking at my face, being made uncomfortable by my motionlessness, wondering what’s going on in my stationary head.
I’m thinking it’s best to just stay active. I’ve actually developed a nervous twitch, which is fast becoming involuntary, in order to maintain an air of movement, even while in a state of stasis. Such an altruist. I nominate myself to be the recipient of some sort of annually bestowed humanitarian award.

I am a twat.
I enjoy mustard, head rubs, and insulting myself with colloquial synonyms for ‘vagina’.
Holla!