Bret Michaels is No Friend of Mine.

Let me start by sharing how I came to give my, (clears throat) bowel movements, the name Bret Michaels.
My friend Melanie has this deep love for the man Bret Michaels. And for the past several years she has some how sucked a group of us in to attending his *concerts* whenever he comes to town. I have been pregnant for the past few years so I've missed out on some of his recent engagements.
Anyway, one year either Melanie or another friend, Crazy Helen, got the idea that they wanted to make t-shirts to wear to the concert. I was not there on t-shirt making day. I show up the night of the concert and these two, proud as f*ing punch, show off the shirts that they've made for us to wear. The shirts have, no lie, "I Love BM" on the front. Whuck? And these two nut jobs don't get why I am hesitant to wear a shirt with "I Love BM" on it. Long discussion, blah, blah, blah, and some how I am talked in to wearing the shirt. I am sure that there was alcohol involved but anyway.
And from this, I now refer to my bowel movements as Bret Michaels.

OK, so Bret Michaels on a regular basis has never been a friend of mine. If I "entertain" Bret Michaels three times a week, it is a miracle. As I sit here getting older by the second I am beginning to become more and more aware (completely paranoid) about how unhealthy these extended visits really are. How much damage can this cause, or how much damage has it already caused. Has Bret Michaels had his way with my health? Bastard!

Jamie Lee Curtis is trying to shove yogurt down my throat in hopes of opening up my poop shoot but try as JLC might, I am just not that into yogurt. I like yogurt but I don't love it and I am sure as hell not going to eat it every.damn.day.

So, I start thinking about probiotics and taking one on a daily basis. Google away and holy shooty hoos! I've got more information, choices, brands, good ones, bad ones . . . than I can shake a stick at.

Too much!!!! my ADHD-self screams! I just need to find a magic pooping pill!

Like with anything that overwhelms me, I ran as far away as possible. So, for now, if Bret Michaels has over stayed his welcome and things start to feel a little crampy and tight between us, I'll just have to stick with one of my two stand-bys: Eddie's Place for their smoked sausage and french toast (my friend Melanie will attest to this) or if I am short on time, a venti mocha latte from the 'bucks.

Whatever it takes Bret Michaels, whatever it takes.