Doo-Doo Retreats and Dirty Little Secrets

I talk to a lot of people everyday and to my great surprise, a lot of them actually seem to enjoy talking to me. Or at the very least, despise it enough to tell me gross things. I recently had a very nice man describe to me (in a public place, mind you) a recent trip he took that I can only refer to as a doo-doo retreat. He is in his fifties, I would say, and trying to turn over a new leaf in the health department. Apparently turning over new leaves in ones life involves a hearty amount of colon flushing. Being the rabid fecalphiliac that I am, I was chomping at the bit to hear the details. So he proceeded to tell me that he spent thousands of dollars to gently place a hose up his own rectum. The hose releases water, preferably warm water, says he, that flushes out your large intestine. Now I for one would give my right eye for the clean feeling that I'm sure only flushed out intestines can give you. Two or three thousand dollars to insert the hose up my own ass? I don't think so. That kind of cash means that someone else should be doing the dirty work here. Strange. We consider cleaning toilets to be the most hideous of cliched hideous jobs, but we'll pay a couple grand to have the exquisite pleasure of sparkling clean intestines. I don't want waste matter sticking to the walls of my intestines and gradually poisoning my body. Do you? I bet you really feel high and mighty after that sort of operation. (Once you get over the shame, naturally.) But I guess part of the two thousand dollars is so that you CAN insert the hose yourself. You see, the beauty of this whole doo-doo retreat set up is this: I'm not exactly sure what your paying for. That sounds like capitalism at it's finest! I would open up a colon cleansing business here in Rochester, but from what I gather, that sort of thing is best done on an exotic island.
I would like to introduce a new feature to this blog entitled:
What the Statistics Show
You may sort of consider this the first installment. The other night I had a splitting headache and I was talking to my friend Tesia, who lives in Arizona. I said that I supposed my head probably wouldn't explode, judging from past experience with divers and sundry headaches. She said, yes, that the statistics showed that it was unlikely that my head would explode. We also discussed what was keeping me here in Rochester. She said quite platonically that I could come stay with her- that she had a large bed. We decided that the statistics also showed that there was no reason for me to stay here...
I like the statistics. I for one feel that they are a pretty encouraging lot. Nice to know you've got numbers on your side against such things as exploding heads.