TWPH: Losing Control of their Bowels

White people hate losing complete control of their bowels. Once a friend of mine relayed to me the following tale. He woke up one morning after a particularly gruesome night of drinking that involved body shots, Red Bull, castor oil, and cherry lip gloss. That morning, he had a splitting headache, so he took three ibuprofen with a big glass of water before heading to the kitchen. In spite of his nausea, he was starving. He made a big breakfast of 3 eggs, a pound and a half of chorizo, a bowl of leftover menudo (the soup, not the boy band), and some “Rocket” hot sauce. The ibuprofen was starting to kick in and his head felt better; the breakfast was starting to kick in and his nausea went away, so he went into the bathroom to shower. In the middle of his shower, without warning, his stomach revolted, but instead of causing him to vomit, he felt the old heat South-of-the-Border. He knew there was no time to even get out of the shower and get to the toilet, but before he could think up a way around his predicament, he unloaded a jet of steaming feces all over his bathroom tile. He was mortified and humiliated. It didn’t help that he’d brought home a gaggle of Maori tribesmen the night before and they were actually in the shower with him. Needless to say, he still can’t eat more than a bite or two of cherry lip gloss without feeling sick. And that’s why white people hate losing complete control of their bowels.