I don't have any pictures that actually pertain to this topic, but here's a great shot of a Mexican sunset to wet your whistle. Courtesy of my talented husband.
I love the ocean as much as the next person: the lulling rhythm of the waves, the glittering green against the blue surface, the pesky seagulls constantly trying to eat my lunch.
But, have you ever stopped to think about all the different creatures that live in the water and how all those different creatures poop in the water? On land, it's easy: you see a pile of yuckies (as me and my siblings called it when we were kids), you steer clear. Unless you're a fly, of course. In which case, dinner's on!
I first started thinking about this when my daughter was gifted with this delightful gem of a book:
It's a surprisingly graphic little story about...well, about how everyone poops. Meant to somehow encourage your potty-training child to poop in a toilet. The technique seems a little incongruent to me given that the book is called "Everyone Poops" and not "Everyone Poops in a Potty. So, Why the Heck Don't You??" Anyway, I'm getting off track.
One page asks this riveting (and disturbing) question:
...and I can sadly now say I know the answer to that question, because when I asked Google "What does whale poop look like," it didn't realize that I was just quoting a book and actually showed me what whale poop looks like...I recommend not doing the search for yourself. Come on, Google - I thought you were smarter than that.
Ever since reading that book, I have a bit of a hard time getting into the ocean. First, because I'm a terrible swimmer. But second, because I think about how all of the ocean is a toilet that we're voluntarily wading around in. It's usually a fleeting thought that gets quickly replaced with a gallon of salt water splashing into my face, but it's a thought nonetheless.
So, now here my husband and I are in Mexico, and we decide to do a little snorkeling. It was a fun excursion. Well, aside from being part of a starfish murder, that is. I was innocent, I swear. Our guide swam down to the shallow bottom and found a starfish under a rock. He handed it to us to hold and look at. When I was done looking at it, I dropped it—naively thinking it would safely land back to its home on the bottom. Instead, I watched a fish eye it hungrily as it sunk and then BAM, the fish aggressively attacked it one leg at a time until only little bits of the starfish were left to land safely home. Pretty sure the Buddhists would not give me good karma points for that one.
This is what my dreams looked like last night
But, that was nothing compared to the trauma of WATCHING A GIANT FISH PUSH OUT A GIANT POOP LOG RIGHT IN FRONT OF MY FACE AND THEN SWIMMING THROUGH IT BECAUSE I DIDN'T HAVE ENOUGH TIME TO SHIFT GEARS. People, I literally got crapped on by a fish. And not one of those cute, little stringy poops your goldfish offers up. It was a solid chunk.
Needless to say, I haven't showered since*. I think I'm gonna stay on the land today and maybe play with some beach toys.
* Don't believe that. It's a lie.
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I'D RATHER WEAR PAJAMAS