Greetings Dear Readers! It’s me, your bums-talking Brand Ambassador, bringing you another message from the fine folks at Cottonelle!
I and the other BA’s have been on a roll reading (and judging) all the wipe-related haikus you’ve been Tweeting out the wazoo. We’ve already given away $200 Amazon gift cards to 3 potty-mouthed poets. Check out their cheeky, winning work*:
Week 1 winner: @dad_strangeland
Did you wipe? I ask / My four year old shakes her head / Pants already raised.
Week 2 winner: @jesteram
Cottonelle sheets, wipes— / like yin and yang for your butt: / Two forces, one whole.
Week 3 winner: @DeadTurkeyBlog
Please try Cottenelle. / Like wiping with a pillow. / Without the divorce.
These lucky lads are now in the running to win the Grandest of Prizes: an all-expenses paid trip to Dad 2.0 Summit in New Orleans! And we have 4 more winners to choose over the next few weeks, so you still have lots of chances to score a gift card and a seat at Dad 2.0!
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While scrutinizing all these haiku hijinks has been hilarious, it’s also caused me to wax nostalgic. All the poop-talk got me reminiscing about the times in my life I could have really used some Cottonelle TP and Cleansing Cloths. Please indulge me as I over-share one such occasion…
WARNING: DO NOT READ IF ON YOUR LUNCH BREAK
I spent the summer after college in Siberia on a mission trip with a group from my church. We were in Irkutsk, a city of nearly a million people — yet we often found ourselves in rather sub-standard plumbing predicaments. One afternoon we were giving a presentation at a high school, when my lunch of dried fish, pork-filled dumplings and mysterious cabbage concoction decided to take the Trans-Siberian Express out of my body. I raced down the halls to the bathroom and scurried into one of the stalls. Not only did the stall not have a door, the bowl (which was common) didn’t have a seat. And to my horror – nor the toilet paper dispenser, toilet paper. Starting to panic, I hobbled around and check the other stalls. Nyet, nyet, nyet. No doors, no seats, no paper.
While this isn’t the toilet in my story, it WAS the one in my Siberian flat… that I used every day for 3 months.
Lunch had now taken its leave, yet here I sat on my seatless bowl, not sure what to do next. I rifled through my pockets and found two very disconcerting options. Option 1: a small religious pamphlet illustrated in comic-book form. Option 2: my Bible.
The pamphlet was slick and varnished, with rather sharp corners. My Bible, on the other hand, had soft, tissue-like pages. It was my Sophie’s Choice of sanitation.
Luckily I remembered my Bible had several blank pages in the back for taking notes. My choice was made, desecration was avoided, my ass was saved! However some Cottonelle toilet paper and wipes sure would have been a god-send.
Okay, now it’s your turn to confess. What’s your scariest scatalogical situation? Please post in the comments. My favorite will get a shout-out on Facebook (anonymous, if you like) and my deepest admiration and sympathy.
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Late to the poop party and have no idea what I’m talking about? Take a second and go read this. I’ll wait… Okay, all caught up? Great! Now get to Tweeting haikus about Cottonelle and bums and wipes and poop, and maybe I’ll see you in NOLA!
*To read all eligible haikus as well as full contest details, visit the Haiku Challenge web page.
