Monday, February 25, 2008


Are you ready? It's the story no one likes to tell, but which must be told, the story for which I will sacrifice all my dignity to provide you with entertainment at my expense. The story about digestive issues and having tubes stuck up your butt. Welcome to the hydro-colonic blog.

(Pretty pictures will be inserted at regular intervals to offset the horrors within)

I'll start at the beginning before we get to the rear end. So, as much as I'd like you all to think I'm an awesome and cool and healthy young man, we're all adults here, so let me just tell you, I've been having some serious gas lately. Like, intense, gurgling, high-pressure gas. A guy from Puget Sound Energy actually came to my house yesterday and tried to install a meter on my ass. That's how bad things are. I had to fend him off with a pair of Channel Locks.

Now, I don't want you thinking I'm some kind of Fart King. I never fart. I'm a guy who likes the feeling of a clean body, and bodily functions kinda gross the hell out of me, so I've never been one to just pass the gas, even as a kid. The pressure builds and builds, and right at the crucial moment, it�redirects. Somewhere. I don't know where it goes. Back from whence it came, I suppose. Or maybe Narnia? Anyway, so, this terrible gas I speak of isn't noticeable to anyone but me. It just rumbles and churns in my guts like grenades going off in a sealed blast chamber. It's about exactly as unpleasant as it sounds.

It has occurred to me that this might have something to do with me eating a bowl of black beans and rice for each and every meal�But I felt like there were deeper mysteries at work.

So, this brings us to the Tummy Temple. Over the years, I have been hearing a lot about the wonders of hydro-colonic therapy. Basically, having your colon pressure-washed like a mossy driveway. It supposedly cleans out years, even decades, of icky buildup in your intestines, (undigested food, Legos, etc) clearing the pipes and making your whole body function better. People have been swearing by it. So I figure, since my guts are currently producing enough greenhouse gasses to fuel an entire Al Gore documentary, now is a good time to try this thing out.

A friend of mine has recently had a colonic at a place called the Tummy Temple, so I give them a call. I make an appointment and am told my therapist will be Logan. Shortly after, I have to reschedule my appointment, and I'm told that my procedure will now be performed by "Heidi". Ultimately, I decide that being anally violated by a woman named Heidi is preferable to being violated by a man named Logan, and I breathe a small (very small) sigh of relief.

Tummy Temple sends me to their website to go over some details. I'm slightly concerned, as their website appears to have been designed by a 16 year old girl on Geocities in 1996. Do I really want someone with no web-design sense sticking anything in my anus? But, I grit my teeth and soldier on.

The day finally comes, and I drive to the address listed. I step into the building, which turns out to be a hair salon, and they tell me the Tummy Temple is "out back". I walk around the side of the building and find the door, hidden behind some shrubberies. I go inside.

After checking in and meeting Heidi, who is, thank God, older and not especially attractive, I'm told to go use the bathroom and come back when I'm ready. I go into the bathroom, and the first thing I notice is a bowl next to the sink, on top of which is a large knife. There is no explanation for this knife, and I realize it may be the first time I've ever seen a large knife placed in a bathroom like a toiletry item.

On my way out, I notice a sign next to the door featuring advice about how to deal with your imminent procedure. The last item on the list reads like this:

"After the therapy, drink lots of water, and take time to rest, relax, and give your body a chance to recuperate. This goes for any strong emotions you may experience as well."

Oh God.

I go into the procedure room, and after a description of what's going to happen, Heidi tells me to strip from the waist down, although she lets me know I can leave my socks on if I want to. I thought naked-except-for-socks was kind of a bedroom faux paus, but oh well, I leave them on. Heidi leaves the room while I get nude. I climb onto the table and pull the blanket over my naked butt. After giving me enough time to get comfortable, Heidi knocks gently, and I say "Come in!", feeling a little like a young bride on her wedding night.

Heidi enters, looks at me lying on my stomach, and says, "Oh, no, actually we need you to lie on your back. Go ahead and flip over."

What...? Why would I lay on my back? Is she going to stick the hose into my penis? Wait wait, I'm not into this, this isn't my bag�

Reluctantly, I flip over. At this point, things get rather gruesome, so I'm going to spare you a zoomed-in narration. Suffice to say, tubes are inserted, warm water is pumped into my body until I'm on the verge of bursting like a mishandled water balloon, and then the water is released back into the tube. This process is repeated several times, and I get to watch the ancient, lingering contents of my colon flooding out through a clear glass viewing window, before traveling on to finally be at rest in the great sewer system beyond. Rest in peace, angry poo spirits. Rest in peace.

So, the procedure is done. My body feels like a hot water bottle that's been blown up by the Power Team. I go to pay my bill, and am a little perplexed by the receipt with a line for "Tip". I'm supposed to tip my colonicist? I'm used to tipping for eating and drinking, for having things put in to my digestive system, but this chick put things into it and then took them right back out! Would I tip a cocktail waitress who poured me a whiskey and then siphoned it out of my stomach with an elaborate pressure tube machine? Hell no, I'm tryna get drnk.

So, that's how it all went down. This was a few days ago, and in case you're wondering, I haven't noticed any changes. The first day I felt kind of warm and good all over, but shortly thereafter the gas was back and I feel awful again. Add this to Zicam, Cold-Eze, and Magic Crystal Deodorant on the list of homeopathic remedies that do nothing.

Good day sir!

Thursday, February 21, 2008


The Vatican has made it "harder" to become a saint, according to what I just heard on NPR. Apparently there were just way too many potential saints being processed by the Vatican's "Office of Sainthood" (this is real) and it had created a massive backlog of paperwork. It seems that during his term, Pope John Paul had been instituting a sort of Affirmative Action for sainthood, basically watering down the requirements in order to get certain "pet projects" passed, because he wanted to see the canonization of more saints from developing nations.

The exact process of selecting saints was not explained, but the Vatican is now trying to restore that process to its hardcore roots. This sucks, because I was already having trouble performing even one of those two miracles currently required, and who knows how many it's jumping up to now. As if it wasn't hard enough to do that whole "live a blameless life" and "be revered by your community" thing, I mean come on Vatican, we're having enough trouble with all this recession crap over here, you really think it's a great time to be making things harder? Cut us a break, I mean jeez, for the love of God.

On the plus side, though, I also learned from this piece that the required miracles don't necessarily have to be performed while I'm alive. See, according to the Office of Sainthood, if, after I've died, someone prays to me�not to God or Jesus or Spiritus Sanctus, but to me�for a miracle, like healing for instance, and they are healed, then that counts. Counts as 1 point for the Isaac Marion Sainthood Campaign. So�.might still have a shot at this. But it still kind of sucks, because if I'm dead when I become a saint, how is all that rockstar prestige going to get me laid?

Tuesday, February 12, 2008


I'm driving 7 year old Maddy back to her foster home, an hour and a half journey, and we get into a debate about what is the scariest animal.

Isaac: Sharks are pretty scary, but by far the scariest animal is the shark with legs.

Maddy: Sharks don't have legs!

Isaac: Right, sharks don't have legs, but sharks with legs have legs.

Maddy: But sharks don't have legs!

Isaac: Well I know sharks don't have legs, but obviously, sharks with legs have legs! I mean it's right there in the name.

Maddy: Well what's so scary about that?

Isaac: Well, sharks with legs are extremely scary because even if you swim out of the water and run up onto the beach, they can run out of the water and still keep chasing you.

Maddy: Well I'd just climb up a tree. One time my brother's dog was chasing me and I climbed up a tree to get away.

Isaac: Ok, that would keep you safe from sharks with legs, but not from sharks with legs and arms. Sharks with legs and arms are even scarier because they can climb up the tree and get you.

Maddy: Well what if I jumped out of the tree into an airplane and flew away?

Isaac: Well Maddy, the thing is, I know sharks with legs are scary, and sharks with legs and arms are even scarier, but there's actually an animal even scarier than any of those, and that is the shark with legs and arms and wings.


Maddy: (laughing, incredulous) What??

Isaac: Yeah, because sharks with legs and arms and wings can fly after you even in an airplane. Those are by far the scariest animal.

[Long pause. Maddy is thinking.]

Maddy: Yeah but there's a kind of animal that's even scarier than that.

Isaac: Scarier than sharks with legs and arms and wings?

Maddy: Yes. The one that's even scarier than that is the kind of shark that can change into other things. Like it could turn into so it looks like a bus.

Isaac: (stunned) A Sharkbus?

Maddy: Yeah, it would look just like a bus, but it would trick you because it would really be a shark, so it would drive up to you and you know what would happen when it opened its door?

Isaac: What?

Maddy: You'd die, because you'd climb inside the bus but you'd actually be going inside the shark, and it would eat you.

Isaac: So you're saying any bus I see might actually be a Sharkbus, so every time I get on a bus I might actually be getting into a Sharkbus?

Maddy: Yep.

Isaac: Wow, that is�that is a scary thing.

Maddy: It's a scary world.

Yes, she really did say that, yes this conversation really happened, and yes it's more or less verbatim. This is why I love my job.

Also another good reason not to ride the bus. I mean�holy shit.


Shut up, Blue Space.

Tuesday, February 5, 2008

Forbidden Love

So the polls are in, and it would appear that Sharks With Legs narrowly defeated Bees With Souls (much scarier, in my opinion) for title of Mightiest Animal Warrior. Lobsters With Grudges pretty much tied for second with Bees. You guys are ignorant.

Anyway, speaking of lobsters with grudges, I just found this story written by my very own lobster trainee, Pinche the Lobster. Apparently he wrote it in 20 minutes after being challenged by a friend to write a story about forbidden love in 20 minutes. I helped him edit it a little, since he always has a hard time with his "there/their"s.