You might accuse me of just enjoying potty humor too much, but I insist that this is important. Every single one of us should have at least one person to whom they can, without hesitation, start a conversation with any of the following:

  • “You would not believe the stench that came out of my body. I think I might be dying.”
  • “Have you ever been sitting there and wondering if it would ever stop? Tell me I’m not alone. Tell me you’ve actually held the bowl and felt afraid.”
  • “Hey — remember how you’d go to the zoo and they’d be selling Zoo Poo? I think I know where it comes from.”
  • “It’s better if you never went to the 9th floor men’s room again. It’s tainted beyond the reach of God and nature.”

Now, of course this is because you totally get the giggles when you talk about this kind of thing with people — and if you don’t, well, none of this is going to make much sense to you. But it is absolutely critical, for three key reasons.

First, it’s totally hilarious, and it escalates very quickly. One mild story about inappropriately using a handicapped stall to the right person can quickly lead to similies about bags full of sand and deadly stories about “carrier farts” — those deadly ventings that carry more than just air, and can sometimes lead to humiliating half-days.

Second, humor is the ignition of a shared state of mind. Not everyone will find this kind of thing funny — allow me now to wave at all the horrified faces reading this, hello grossed out internet! — but those people who do will never forget that you do, too. This isn’t to say that you should go polling all the people in your life to see who likes shit jokes the most and then cleave them to your breast, but understand that when you discover this kind of humor in someone you’ve known for a long time, you’d be amazed just what that does.

Suddenly you have someone for whom even the grossest jokes are not appalling, like a tiny secret club of digustingness that nobody else understands. And more important than that, you suddenly find yourself able to share other revolting facts, things that perhaps aren’t so funny or might be genuine trauma, because somewhere along the way you created — God Help You — a kind of intimacy.

That’s right. Crap jokes are the path to bosom friends. You will not have many people in your life you actually like enough to be friends with, even fewer you can really confide in, fewer still you truly trust — and fewest still people with whom you can really, crudely joke about poop. It is an almost transcendant kind of faith to be that revolting with someone, and ultimately validating when they’re just as horrible in return.

When you find that, cherish it.

Third, well, can I just ask you, have you ever been sitting there and suddenly seen stars? Because, wow. Let me just say I’m glad there was a handle on the wall.