Have Your Smelling Salts Ready

Pardon the lack of common decency, but Mrs. Hillbilly Mom must discuss an inelegant topic this evening.

If you are of weak constitution, have a stomach as delicate as Velvet Brown, toss your cookies at the drop of a hat, go off the chart on an upchuck meter...perhaps you should stop reading now, and nuzzle the basket of kittens on your lap, sing a lullaby to your drowsy unicorn, take a deep inhalation of the aroma of the brownies you baked earlier, tuck your Snuggie under your thighs, and dream about that summer you spent traveling the globe photographing rainbows.

You were warned. Now here we go.

"Is it too much to ask that you stop sh*tting on the toilet seat?"

How does this even happen? Why do I find myself grabbing a baby wipe to clean crap off the crapper before I can even sit down to take a pee?

Do men have a secret hole we don't know about? Like a little ventilation hole above the business hole?

Do they not know how to sit on a toilet? The business hole should be inside the toilet seat hole! It's not rocket science!

Come to think of it, maybe that's why NASA started allowing women astronauts! Because the space toilet was getting all crappy, and they needed somebody to clean it off.

Are guys sitting down to pee, and moving far back so their junk doesn't get caught on the front lip of the toilet seat, and then the urge hits them, and they don't realize the business hole is sitting on the seat, not over the opening?

Is it a matter of pressure, like squeezing a tube of frosting, and some squiggles go where you don't expect?

I can't figure out this mystery. But I'm getting tired of always looking before I sit, and scrubbing my destination before I can do business.

Oh, and the answer to the question posed to Farmer H?

"I don't sh*t on the toilet."

It must be that guy who keeps breaking into the Mansion tracking mud clods through the house.