Chit Chat About Shit Shat

You know how you wear out a song you love, because you listen to it OVER and OVER and OVER?  I know you do.  I know that Bieber you swore you hated was the top track on your Spotify account, because you listened to it 3 hundred times yesterday.  I know, because Facebook told me so, and therefore it must be true.  Well, don't fret, pet, I do the same thing.  Like a 13 year old girl, I've worn out about two dozen tunes in the past month, and one of 'em is a Matchbox 20 song.  Kid you not.  Even Skamp is prone to pop, and even prone to over-doing it.  But you know what Skamp NEVER gets sick of doing?  Pooping.

Yes.  That's right.  I LOVE to poop.  I've been doing it for 35 years now, 33 of which have been totally on my own.  I can wipe my own ass, and flush the toilet, n' everything.  I can even replace the roll of toilet paper (well, usually- sometimes the new roll sits on the magazine shelf for a week, but whatever).  I don't think I've ever disliked pooping- except when I have the shits and every gurgle in my stomach makes me cringe because I know that my asshole is about to burn like a fucking blow torch.  But besides that?  I fucking LOVE IT-- pooping is my friend.  And I never get tired of it.  I have not, thus far, taken any photos of it (like that douche wad in First Date Definite Don'ts), nor have I crapped in a litter box (see:  She Did WHAT?!).  I won't mention the time I didn't quite make it home, because, you know, that's just TOO MUCH INFORMATION.  And Skampcity is not about to share TOO MUCH INFORMATION.  Of course not... But, in all the places and situations that I've shat, my favorite has to be outside.  Oh, yesss..

This weekend, I went off camping again, and got to shit outside- again.  There is nothing like beating off the flies like mothers shopping on Black Friday to get to the seat in the outhouse tent.  There is nothing like letting loose in the wind, and best of all, there is nothing like watching a Red Tail Hawk doing its own thing in the trees, all while I'm sighing in sweet relief at the disposal of last night's pork n' beans cooked on a camp stove.  Nope, there ain't nothing like it in the world.  I could do it as many times as I've listened to Excuse Me While I Break My Own Heart and STILL not get tired of crapping in the out-of-doors. 

And you know what else I like?  Air freshener.  Because even Skamp knows that her shit really does stink.