A friend was over recently, and relayed an experience that I am sure everyone can relate to, at least a little. 

” So I was totally taking a shit the other day and then realized that we had absolutely no toilet paper anywhere in the house. I mean zero. Zero. [Holds hands up to graphically represent “zero.”] So I started yelling, Billy! Billy! And then Christopher finally came running instead and stuck his fingers through the door waving some McDonalds napkins. Fucking McDonald’s napkins. I was like, ‘Really? Really, Christopher? We have no tissues? Fucking McDonald’s napkins?’ and he was all, ‘That’s what I’ve got.’ So he sort of drops them from his hand stuck through the door, which I had to, like, catch before they hit the floor. Because that is gross. And his fingers are weirdly elongated, and he has fat fingerpads, and it was just too much. I had trouble doing my business. And of course he’s laughing because he thinks it’s hilarious, and I am not because it is not hilarious. And his fat fingers stuck through the, like crack, and he’s all ‘Can you see my fingers?’ and I’m like, “Of course, I can see your fucking long-ass Skeletor fingers.’ God, it sucked.

This is going to be anonymous, right?”

Upon hearing this story, a little diddy that my Dad used to sing came into my head:

Stranded on the toilet bowl.

Stranded without a paper roll.

To prove you’re a man/woman, you must wipe with your hand.

Stranded on the toilet bowl.