Sarah and her piss in L.A.
I have never gone to the bathroom. Sure, I have peed. I’ve tinkled like an adorable puppy, like a pretty ballerina. But never the other.
I’m just lucky that way. I have never been mad enough to take it out on the bowl. What did it do to ever deserve such punishment? Why would anyone give such a clean white porcelain friend such a beating? I wouldn’t. I don’t. My asshole is as pink as the day I came out of my mother’s vag. You could eat off of it, and some have — ew! Don’t be a pig. I don’t mean that in a sexual way. I mean hungry homeless children. Did you know there are more homeless children in America than homeless adults?! That’s what this piece is really about — that and my immaculate asshole.
MY IMMACULATE ASSHOLE
Say I go out and have a big meal at a nice restaurant. I may have an appetizer, an entrée, often dessert, and coffee to make it complete. Maybe I’ll unzip my pants. Undo my top button. I may even go to the bathroom and pee out that coffee. But anything else is the doing of the Lord. The food I eat may be digested, it may even turn to waste, but before anything turns brown, God or maybe Jesus himself magically takes it from me, and, I can only assume, brings it to heaven.