I'm referring to a far different kind of check.
I'm fascinated with the human body. My key area of interest- duh, the asshole.
It's the center of the action, the trendy Meatpacking District of orifices- it's where all the cool, funny, scary shit goes down. Also, shit goes down there!
Which leads me to tonight's rant, The Check.
Okay, so after defecating, I, like any red-blooded American proceed to wipe my ass.
Whether I lift a cheek to enable toilet paper entry or go between the legs like an Iverson stutter step, the deed gets done.
But there's something I have caught myself doing many a time before dropping the newly-stained Charmin into the bowl.
I, like many of you, check the toilet paper.
It's absurd.
WHAT THE FUCK ARE WE CHECKING FOR?
"Dude, you'll never guess what happened, today when I checked, there it was- the winning lotto numbers!...Oh..and some corn"
Yet for some reason man is compelled to make sure his toilet paper has retrieved an ample amount of doody before parting with it.
Is there some massive shortage of toilet paper I'm unaware of and every wipe counts?
After 150,000 years of existence have we not convinced ourselves that we make shits?
"By God, it's happened again!"
I'm waiting for the one time where I go to check and I've shit out a perfect reproduction of Seurat's Sunday in the Park in Grande Jatte. I'll stare at that bitch like Ferris Bueller.
Although I have to admit, a line in the sand has certainly been drawn.
I brought up the cause of checking question amongst a table of friends during a lunch break.
While everyone began to laugh and interject with their take on the fecal phenomenon, one voice stood out.
"Well, I don't check!". The table fell silent.
Naturally, it was the fat chick.
Eww...
