A pessimist sees the poop in every opportunity; an optimist sees the opportunity in every poop.
Winston Churchill
Whoever created this site is an absolute genius, and I want them to help me with my log book. But we’ll get to that in a minute.
My digestive system is nearly forty and on the fritz, and I only got 4 hours’ sleep last night. And, I’m starving myself. Why?
I’ve got gas.
I’ve got indigestion.
Nothing’s left my entrails in four days.
I have no idea what brought on the bloat.
Was it the traditional half-gallon of coffee I drink in the morning? Or the two eggs, whole grain toast, and avocado I usually have at breakfast? Maybe that 4-day-old spicy chili I shoveled into my mouth with Frito scoops? Or my evening snack: 10 ounces tortilla chips, two cups salsa verde, and a box of ding-dongs on the side, if you please.
Or maybe it’s my family’s medical history? On mom’s side, we’ve got ulcerative colitis, diverticulitis, GERD, and silent GERD (I shit you not). Hemorrhoids, dyschezia, and chronic diarrhea courtesy of papa—who’s also got the sugars. And those are just the ones I know about. What else could be lurking in the anals of history?
So I’ve been experimenting with food. An apple today, a box of raisins, a scoop of honey dripping with digestive enzymes. But I keep forgetting to write it down. And I’m not sure if anything’s helping my poops.
Enter The Captain’s Log: For Those Who Ride the Porcelain Seas in Search of the Elusive Brown Whale.
The book, of course, will come with a mahogany desk you attach to your toilet, and while you sit waiting for that precious commodity to fall out of your butt, you write about what brought you to this ungodly state. Knees knocking, forehead beading with sweat, doing squats over the bathroom rug and praying that something will plop. Was it the oatmeal?
No more questions! Just flip that desk over your head (or swing it around from the side—I haven’t quite worked out the mechanics, I’ve been burning at both ends), grab your log book, and log your logs. Or, lack thereof.