I’ve decided to have a summer series as part of my blogging non-ritual. Fecal Fridays. I have so many poop tales to tell. Friday is a good day for it, because I don’t think many people catch my Friday blogs.

This topic came up today as I was sitting poolside with my friend Phyllis, while our four-year-olds were having their semi-private swim lesson. Nick had dropped his goggles in the water earlier. They sunk (sank?) to the bottom and were promptly forgotten. I noticed him starting to whine about his face getting wet, so I wandered over to pool’s edge, leaned over and peered down at them, and gestured over to teacher Sarah that here they were. Phyllis became slightly agitated. “Is it poop?”

A totally fair question, experience says. A preschool group gets in the pool right before our kids’ lesson. Picture 20 or 30 hypothetically-potty-trained 3-to-5 year olds bouncing around in a cordoned-off part of a shallow pool, packed in shoulder to shoulder, while their teachers laze about on the benches staring blankly into space. Imagine what comes out of their bums. Leaving aside the invisible liquid matter, turds are frequently discovered after the horde leaves the pool.

I personally feel that if the teachers were required to get in that pool with the kids, the poopage would be reduced dramatically. All the right incentives would be there to ensure the kids take care of their business elsewhere.

An aside. I think poopage should be a word. It is a word in the Carla dictionary. Autocorrect should not make it into “poi page.” That makes no sense. Why not at least autocorrect to “poop age”? Why add fish to the equation?

Phyllis knows I’m entertained by poop and fart jokes and stories. (I think it’s why she loves me.) I know I’m not alone. I recently looked through greeting cards at Whole Foods and discovered a full rack of poop-and-fart-joke cards. My favorite was the unicorn flying through outer space with a sparkly rainbow trail shooting out its ass, and a caption along the lines of “where did you THINK rainbow sparkle candy came from?” Oh hahaha, oh stop, stop, I’m doubled over and wiping tears from my eyes. Whew.

Wait while I regather my thoughts and unclench my abdominals…. Okay, better. Phyllis suggested I blog about poop regularly. Brilliant. We noodled some names for such a series and settled on Fecal Fridays. I googled it to see if it’s in use already. I wouldn’t want to infringe on someone’s trademark.

Incredibly, it appears that “fecal Friday” is a sort of cultural phenomenon with animal doctors. I didn’t delve far enough to make complete sense of it, so I could be totally full of shit and exaggerating, but my super-thorough 30-second sweep of google results has led me to conclude that vets across the country offer “fecal Friday” specials so you can bring your pet in for anal exams and drop off turds for testing, for free or on discount.

I’m thrilled to have learned this. It’s really news to me.

Anyway, I’ll try to do it. Fecal Fridays. I’ll shoot the shit about poop-related topics. I hope you’re as excited as I am. Guest bloggers welcome. Share your poop tales with me. I won’t judge.