Swedish for beginners: Bawal Umutot dito/ Farting Forbidden
It is well established that penetrative sex resulting in orgasm as part of a loving relationship produces that wonderful effect called 'the afterglow'. This post-coital bliss is due to the surge in endorphins that are released after orgasm. These hormones bind to receptors on nearby brain cells and produce an opiate-like effect. This is why people who get very little sex are cranky and depressed and go about making war with civilisation at large. (Please take note of the operative word 'penetrative'. I don't have to explain that the same high endorphin peaks are NOT/NADA/NYET/HAAN/MADI achieved by self-pleasure or lesbian sex. And to my good gay friends, sorry, it don't apply to you guys as well as that hole ain't meant to be penetrated.)
I realised while sitting on the throne today, after a indulging in a smorgasbord that made Bacchus proud, that a similar effect can occur after a visit to the loo. I shall call this the 'after loo effect'. (You could of course call it the 'aftergloo' effict if you have that accent.) Like all receptor-ligand-epitope interactions, there are many co-factors that need to considered and the after loo effect involves a positive feedback loop.
I have not yet identified the molecular basis of the after loo effect (something I need to write a scientific grant on) but allow me to discuss some salient features of this phenomena. The most important metric here is the intensity of the after loo effect. The factors that directly contribute to an "I'm the king of the world" feeling after visiting that porcelain throne include:
1. What did you eat/drink the night before? - The size of the deposit is key, the bigger and longer the better. You don't want to be sitting on the loo waiting for a small kikiam of a shit that just refuses to drop even if it is already hanging precariously by the mangled stalk of spinach you ate yesterday even if you gyrate manically to the Black Eyed Peas' "My humps, my humps". You want to deliver a Titanic-size piece of crap that sinks straight to the bottom. You want to feel that continous tube of nitrogenous waste product scratching against the lining of your rectum as it comes out to embrace the light the way an Artic icebreaker crushes against the ice. What is the correct diameter of poo to get the proper after loo glow? Sing Madonna's "Like a Virgin". If you don't feel that way when ever you crap, it ain't big enough.
Proper crap needs to be soft yet firm and not squishy like the chocolate bar that you forgot inside your pocket on a hot summer day. That consistency will just stick to your 'valley of darkness' and leave a thin film of brown spread that can be used as a fly trap (it could even trap small rodents if it's thick). Plus, do you really want streak marks on your genuine fake designer underwear?
2. Like lovemaking, atmosphere is everything. You want to do your thing in a conducive environment. Is there a cold draft as if someone is whistling the Indiana Jones theme next to your glory hole? Are the colours of the tiles relaxing? Is the loo still warm from the last person when you sat on it? Did a swarm of flies rush into your face, maybe you even swallowed some, as you opened the door? Are the cubicles not acoustically-isolated enough that you can hear the adjacent neigbour doing it and that prevents you from making the required grunts to give birth to those dark brown babies or that forces you to silence the release of gas instead of the guilty pleasure of rapid-fire machinegun-like short bursts of fart?
The loo cubicle should be first class, more so if you have to pay for it. Like sex with a prostitute, no one wants to bang an ugly tart. That '5 piso kung iihi, 10 piso kung dudumi, 2 piso para sa tissue, 1 piso para sa tatlong pahina ng yellow pages, libre kung papadilaan nalang sa bantay-aso' money you shell out to the troll manning the public loo is not going to charity you know. Some people I know are very monogamous when it comes to loo cubicles, they are only comfortable using the same one. So much so that even if the crapper were made of granite, it would have been smoothed down to the correct contours of that person's butt cheeks the way OJ Simpson's hand fits that leather glove.
Let us not forget that as it is thrilling to have mad sex in the woods surrounded by nature just the way God intended it, crapping into a hole on the ground you dug yourself with your uber-cool Swiss knife in the woods can also boost that after loo experience to stratospheric levels that not even the Archangels can fly high enough to reach. Just remember to sprinkle some of the soil over your deposit and walk carefully or you might squash your own crap. Not a good idea if you are wearing flip flops or barefoot. (That region between the toes can be very hard to clean.)
3. Like sex, it's always better if you save up for it. There is nothing more satisfying than to crap just when you are about to explode. Take your cue from Pinatubo who waited 600 years before its naughty big bang. You know the feeling when your anal muscles just constrict while you desperately look for the toilet. It's painful, sure, but when you finally find the loo and get to drop those sweet-corn studded bombs, you will get this very refreshing "Haaay, salamat" feeling that not even a threesome can match. Doing it more than once a day is a no-no as your loo sessions will be short and the deposits will be like those of a goat, you can even play jolens with it. It's like investment banking, wait for it to accumulate and diversify your portfolio by eating fibres and fruit. This makes the deposit anaconda-long instead of being cut into small bendy sections like the LRT trains, diving one at a time into the loo water thereby splashing your butt. Ewww. I have heard happy stories from people whose crap are oil tanker-long that they don't even make a splash as they touch the water. Think of that ET movie or Adam reaching out to God in Michelangelo's Sistine Chapel, that's how gracefully your brown love should make first contact with the water.
4. Like sex, sometimes it's nice to use some toys. When visiting the loo, the choice of literature you bring is important. Very few people have come out with an intense after loo experience by reading "Differential Equations" or "A Critique-Rectification of Post Modernism in 1970s Burma". Moreover, while it's good for other things, "Stay" by Lisa Loeb is not recommended loo music. You really want it to go while Menudo's "It's an explosion, my love for you" blasts from your iPod at full volume. Barry White is also an excellent choice. That deep baritone voice works well with the acoustics of a well-tiled up cubicle and while you are at it visualise a big snake shedding its old skin or the last line of toothpase coming out of its tube.
5. Like sex where you need a cuddle after orgasm, you also need good quality wipes to cuddle your butthole after doing the deed. This makes or breaks the after loo experience. As in using and removing a condom, make sure your finger does not poke a hole on the toilet paper as you wipe the naughty smile from your anus. (If you do, don't put your fingers up your nose to take a sniff hoping that nothing happened.)
Going back to crapping in that hole you dug yourself in the woods - some leaves are not suitable for that post-ebak cuddle. Sayote leaves are too thin and rough, gabbi leaves are itchy, and bamboo leaves are too small to even cover enough of your fingers. If you are fortunate enough to live in high altitudes or nordic regions where pine trees grow, cut off a length of pine needles and run it across your crack towards the direction of the tips. Better still, just look for one of those streams and give that blackhole a refreshing splash. Use some of the pebbles to give it a thourough cleaning. Just make sure that a mineral water bottling plant does not exist downsteam.
On average, we visit the loo at least 10 times a day. This is my loo diary for a day...
Skeppholsmen. Those green tiles are very relaxing. and those urinal tablets look like candy.
Me, trying out the Cityterminalen loo in Stockholm. This loo costs 5 kronors (30 pesos) to use but it's three-star. I don't pull my underwear and trousers all the way down to my ankles. We were taught this way in Swiss finishing school so as not to crease your pants.
The choice of literature while making a deposit. I can't believe Judas Priest still exists.
This XLERATOR blow dryer packs a category 5 hurricane. My hands were dry in 0.01 seconds.
Loo on a Boeing 737 plane cruising 36,000 metres above the North Sea. Very cramped. Not a comfortable place to join the mile-high club. Warning: Do not flush an airline toilet while you are sitting down as it works on high pressure vacuum. Older aircraft would just treat the waste with chemicals then jettison it at high altitude. This crystallizes the shit into blue-tinted ice. So the next time you go out to experience those 'wow ganda' blue-tinted rain drops, it's best not to swallow the water.
The fully equipped loo at the Japanese consulate in Picadilly. There's even a vase with a solitary flower. How very Zen.
The Oxford Tube loo. Supersized people can't fit in here. You won't get a good loo experience on a moving double decker bus so save it up for a proper crapper.
In highly emancipated societies, most toilets are unisex and there are no urinals. This anatomically correct Svensk sign implores men to sit down while urinating so as not to dribble on the toilet seats. It's also very symbolic of the equality of sexes.
It's still me taking my time. After a Swedish smorgasbord, you need to banish all those seafoods back to the deep. Hey, that shrimp came out looking pretty much the same way it went in......You should see the blush on my face when I came out of that cubicle. My after loo experience was out of this world.
Let me end with an important difference between the post-coital afterglow and the after loo experience. While only women can have multiple orgasms, the multiple after loo effect can be achieved by both sexes. You know, you're sitting on the crapper feeling contented after sinking another battleship of a poo when suddenly you realise that another one is coming. "Aba, meron pa pala" you squeal with delight as you listen to the satisfying sound of that soft brown tendril crying out "Me too" as it touches water. Pretty soon, you'll have a large fleet of brown ships and yellowish submarines not seen since the Battle of Leyte bobbing about in that loo water. Take one last look at your babies the way mothers do before they give up their offspring for adoption, then pull down that lever and watch that vortex slurp down those brown babies as you wave adios amigos. (Sometimes, I have this craving for escargot or ginataang kuhol after doing this. Must be the sucking sound.)