In looking back at my most recent post, I feel it necessary to explain the whole "picking-money-up-off-the-sidewalk-and-checking-for-poop" reference.
Freshman year of college, there was a girl living on my floor by the name of M. She lived in our building (which was the furthest out and least popular) because it was air conditioned and her allergies necessitated her to have filtered air. I lived in our building because I was late in committing to the university and got myself and my dance team roommate/buddy banished to the crappy, unpopular dorm. But I digress.
M was a reed-thin brunette with a hilarious Midwestern voice. She grew up on the Mississippi river. Her family is a large group of wonderful people who work hard, and party harder. Once, they invited me to spend a long weekend on the river, and that is when I was initiated.
It was time for me to come face-to-face with the Poo Dollar.
The Poo Dollar was one of M's mother's greatest party games. Basically, you wait until everyone at a party is drunk enough to consider wiping their own butts with dollar bills. Once you choose someone who is (ahem) prepared to do so, you send them off to the restroom with a couple dollars. They do their business (OMG I CANNOT BELIEVE I'M TELLING YOU THIS), wipe their arses with the dollars, then head outside to put the money poo-side-down on the sidewalk/deck/whatever flat surface can be stealthily observed by the rest of the party.
Note: this game works amazingly well in crowded, multi-leveled apartment buildings with open courtyards in the center. Not that I would know or anything.
Then the perpetrators sit back and wait for some unsuspecting Joe or Josephine to come along and pick up the dollar. Because let's be honest - it's human nature to see money and pick it up. The only challenge is to be able to view the Poo Dollar transaction without breaking up into hernia-inducing laughter. You have to play it cool with the Poo Dollar, or you'll blow your own cover.
The moral of the story is this: Wash your hands because money is dirty. So is the Poo Dollar.
Freshman year of college, there was a girl living on my floor by the name of M. She lived in our building (which was the furthest out and least popular) because it was air conditioned and her allergies necessitated her to have filtered air. I lived in our building because I was late in committing to the university and got myself and my dance team roommate/buddy banished to the crappy, unpopular dorm. But I digress.
M was a reed-thin brunette with a hilarious Midwestern voice. She grew up on the Mississippi river. Her family is a large group of wonderful people who work hard, and party harder. Once, they invited me to spend a long weekend on the river, and that is when I was initiated.
It was time for me to come face-to-face with the Poo Dollar.
The Poo Dollar was one of M's mother's greatest party games. Basically, you wait until everyone at a party is drunk enough to consider wiping their own butts with dollar bills. Once you choose someone who is (ahem) prepared to do so, you send them off to the restroom with a couple dollars. They do their business (OMG I CANNOT BELIEVE I'M TELLING YOU THIS), wipe their arses with the dollars, then head outside to put the money poo-side-down on the sidewalk/deck/whatever flat surface can be stealthily observed by the rest of the party.
Note: this game works amazingly well in crowded, multi-leveled apartment buildings with open courtyards in the center. Not that I would know or anything.
Then the perpetrators sit back and wait for some unsuspecting Joe or Josephine to come along and pick up the dollar. Because let's be honest - it's human nature to see money and pick it up. The only challenge is to be able to view the Poo Dollar transaction without breaking up into hernia-inducing laughter. You have to play it cool with the Poo Dollar, or you'll blow your own cover.
The moral of the story is this: Wash your hands because money is dirty. So is the Poo Dollar.
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