i have this inability to poop while on vacation.

i mean, if i ABSOLUTELY CANNOT contain the contents within my bowels, cramp up and begin to perspire, then fine, i’ll do what needs to be done.

but in the words of Bartelby, the Scrivener, “i would prefer not to.”

paul called me a “home-base shitter” the other night as we were regaling tales about this awesomely raw, newly married couple we met while in the dominican.

earlier that afternoon, as we lounged in the pool, buzzed with happiness that comes only with true relaxation and some kind of rum drink served in a hallowed-out coconut, our new friends made it known to us that they had to abort our sanctuary and continue conversation later…

“honey,” our friend said to his bride of only 8 days, “we better go, cuz i’m starting to get the goosebumps.”

dude had the rheas… and i don’t mean gonor.

suffice to say, our vacation was spectacular, and as soon as i take a shit and begin sifting through laundry and uploading pictures, i’ll update more.

for now, i’ll leave you with the “pooping statues” that reside in the courtyard of the resort and MOCKED ME DAILY.