One of the highlights of my trip back to Seoul was the massive shit I took once I'd gotten back to my place. To my delight and horror, I was able to discern the odor of the two major airplane meals I'd eaten: chicken parmesan and some other chicken dish in brown sauce. I agree with my dad that airplane meals aren't as bad as people say they are: it's simply the presentation that sucks, not to mention the paltry quantity.
But airplane meals, I've discovered, retain a certain olfactory coherence even after digestion: this explains why I was able to smell the chicken dishes so clearly as they launched themselves lemming-like into my toilet bowl.
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As sick as I may be, I'm somewhat disappointed you have opted not to add further photographic dimension of this particular turd-blogging.
ReplyDeleteMe? I'm always jazzed the morning after a particularly piquant/picante Thai, Szechuan or Indian meal, or after a meal consisting primarily of beets (I get the after-shit after-shock of a blood red turd), with that momentary memory lapse and concern that I've somehow started to bleed internally.
See, you're never "really home" until that first dump!