Since I washed my son’s pooey nappies in the washing machine, and continue to wash his washable bum wipes in there I’m sure everything I own is super covered in poop bacteria.
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The inside of clothes being contaminated has nothing to do with the washing machine and your underwear. Otherwise, the outside would also be seriously contaminated. It has to do with touching the skin, having a more humid environment, and, probably a lot to do with gassiness.
thanks Carla - I already can barely go outside…
I do not want to think about Ipad/tablet “point of sale” systems I have to sign at restaurants…
poop everywhere! poop poop poop
which, of course, always leads me back to the Diarrhea Song…
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Aka “butt dust.”
I could easily believe that was a b-side with The Sewage Workers Birthday Party, on a colored vinyl special singles version of Scatology.
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Eh, I think that the trillions of virii will take care of a lot of those fecal bacteria.
I know, think about the fact that when you smell someone else’s gas you are more than likely inhaling little bits of their poop too…
The world is shit; that’s nothing new.
And yet, somehow, we go on anyway…
I was in rural country recently, stopping at a gas station. One of the customers was wearing straw and mud caked boots. Before entering the gas station to pay for the gas (guess cause paying with cash) he took his boots off outside the door and walked in with socks.
He used his right foot, free of a boot and only sock fitted to pin the heel of the left boot to remove that boot. Oblivious of any matter that might of clung to the right foot sock.
For anyone who might of dropped a coin, drink or anything else on the floor at that station and picked it up , bought and consumed, their purchase/item might have farm yard poop on it. Hand handling not withstanding.
Naively, I went looking on the internets for a mess-covered person (hoping for mud instead).
OH. MY. GOD.
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My dad shares a story about my biological mom running into his office at the church next door to their home, positively speechless. He followed her home and to my brother’s room, where my brother sat covered head to toe in fecal matter. It was spread all over the crib mattress, the crib rails, and there was a trail along the wall where he had pulled himself along, since the crib had wheels.
Fecal veneer indeed.
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I read that as “E. Coli song.”
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When it is in the air you breath, you don’t have to worry about lists of poo dangers.
“Your underwear—which contains a tenth of a gram” - Pfft! Amateurs!
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A) You don’t have a cat = this list above
B) You have a cat = forget it. EVERY f__cking WHERE
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