EX – Ohhh – DUS

Just like the very first Star Wars movie, the Bible has had several different versions of the original released. Both also have had numerous sequels and prequels that cause a lot of arguments over which is better or more true among its avid fans and followers. I would prefer not to debate ingrained beliefs and making fun of them does not always go over so well.

I’m more of a Trek then Wars guy so it’s easy for me to sidestep that one. Religion is a whole different can of exploding worms like abortion and presidential politics. Whether you’re the type to jump into the deep end of the religious pool and be engulfed by its teachings or you wade into the shallow end to just let little bits of it splash on you when you want it, I sure as H-E-Double Light Sabers am not qualified to dictate what is right or wrong.

It is never my goal to alienate or aggravate a reader so I usually don’t touch those topics. Yet this morning I was thinking about the biblical story of Exodus. You know the one; around 1200 or1300 or 1400 BCE (no one agrees on these damn dates) good old burning shrub chatting Moses led his enslaved people on a rougher trip than the one ‘over the river and through the woods to Grandma’s house’.

For a whole bunch of years my main man Moses and the gang were wandering through a parted river and shvitzing through an arid desert till they set up shop in a less Pharaoh-y neighborhood with a mountain view and a hiking trail to a tablet dispensary. Aside from a little bit of last minute American ‘Idol’ like fervor of false god worshiping, the whole mass of travelers still managed to hold onto their same old culture and all the old important possessions they laboriously dragged with them. You can almost hear the kvetching old Jewish man voices crying out from the crowd “oy my feet are aching in these sandals” or “who forgot to pack the damn yeast” or “why did we drag all this crap with us when we could have bought new”.

Not to belittle this important tale in any way shape or form, but that is kinda the way I was feeling the other morning about the cross town move my wife and I just made. It’s been a long arduous difficult journey but we are hoping to gain more comfort and freedom in the new house plus we are no longer enslaved by our old evil Home Owners Association. The new house has all our old stuff but it looks and feels different.

For better or worse, most of our practices and routines have moved with us. The wife and I still work too much, don’t get enough sleep and have bad eating habits. Even the pet’s morning ritual has been transported without change. Somewhere between 4:30 and 6:30 AM one of the three cats decides they want breakfast. After they discover that dancing on my sleeping head won’t make that happen they use the dog as a pawn in their twisted manipulative indoor hunt for vittles (tender or not). They start jumping over, around, under and on our half deaf, almost blind, elderly, weak bladdered dachshund.

When the dog finally wakes up I have three options:

  1. Get up that instant to take the dog out. Then immediately crawl right back into bed to the sounds of a grunting moaning dog begging for breakfast while three cats attempt the same goal by using my semi-sleeping body as track and field venue performing various high jumps, sprints and hurdles on the bed.
  2. Drag my half-awake ass out of bed at that instant to let the dog outside then go through a 15 minute highly complex series of circumvolutions and gyrations otherwise known as our complex bi-daily pet food distribution drudgery focusing on everyone’s medical necessitates and finicky food moods.
  3. Sleep for two seconds longer, than bitch and curse at the dog, and mostly myself, while cleaning up massive quantities of stinky dog pee from the floor (I mentioned the weak bladder thing right?). Then continue with either option 1 or 2.

On my Exodus thinking morning, I won the lottery and the dog part of the ritual did not happen till after 7:00. Around 7:30 I finally started my own morning routine and plopped in front of the computer with a steaming cup of eye opening joe and no thought whatsoever of what to write about this week. My blank mind got tired of looking at the blank page on my blank monitor, so I headed to the kitchen for a second cup of coffee… not for inspiration but for science.

A few nights ago while out to dinner with friends, I got quizzed about my coffee intake levels and the effects it has on my bowels. Apparently he has a more direct response than I do, thus the brown coffee mug he showed off to us that his wife gave him reading ‘coffee make me poop’.  Although I see the huge benefits to some folks, I don’t think his wife should suggest it as an ad campaign to her bosses at Starbucks.

I like to think I am an observant person with a keen eye for the nuances of the world around me but I am often reminded I can sometimes be as oblivious as my sleeping almost deaf, nearly blind elderly pup when the cats are dancing on his chair trying to wake him up. I had been shaving my face for decades before a friend casually mentioned just prior to his wedding that he was purposely not going to shave the day before the nuptials so he would have a cleaner shave for the wedding pictures.

What?. All shaves are not created equal?  How did I not know this? I tested it. Yes I got a cleaner closer shave if I skipped a day. Fascinating. I felt a confused mix of education and astonishment like Mr. Spock watching a Gallamite and a Ferengis making out. How had I lived so long not knowing this simple easy factoid that was, for a change, truly literally right in front of face. It’s the same thing with this coffee stuff. I did not know there was a coffee-poop relationship thing; a relationship so real that they are slapping it on the side of brown mugs.  Am I the last one to know?

Like the shaving thing I had to test the theory.  I did some personal research adjusting the quantities of my coffee intake and I think I can cut myself some slack. Apparently my mug would have to be yellow and say ‘coffee does NOT affect my poop but it sure makes me pee’. But that is another type of exodus and for propriety reasons I likely should not co-mingle the two.



About mrdvmp

Mr DVMP spends his days breathing, eating and sleeping.
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One Response to EX – Ohhh – DUS

  1. dvmpesq1 says:

    I subtract one star for poopie-talk, sounds too much like poppycock. But, I would pay good money for the “Lewbelco audio books on the bible” hilarious!

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