And I don't mean "ass" as a synecdoche. I am referring solely to my gluteus maximus. Emphasis on "maximus" in my case.
My tush's talents do not relate to its basic functionality. So, those of you who are inching your cursor to the X at the top of your computer screen, come on back. This post will not include anything about my flatulence (which I never have) nor my feces (which does not stink).
|Courtesy of Colorbox|
Those who have a cat, probably have discovered this next use of an abundant fanny: a pet bed. Whether stretched on the floor grading papers, reposing on my tummy on the couch, or asleep in my bed, my rear trumps all other locations in my apartment for cat's nap. In addition, my bum also seems to be the highest point in the room for my cats to climb up on and lord over their world, thereby complementing their egos.
My rump is also a weapon. A catapult to be exact. I once launched my best friend across a hotel room with my ass. In my defense, it was my only defense, even though I started out as the offense. After too much wine and too much indulgence in immaturity, I decided a round of WWF as she is trying to inflate her aerobed was appropriate. On any given day, in any given situation, under any given condition, Lisa can kick my ass (now, I do mean "my ass" as a synecdoche) so once I riled her up, I knew I had to get some distance between us quickly, so I bumped her with my bum and she flew. Caught air. Her feet left the ground.
She forgave me the next day when I dropped my bottom like a bomb onto her aerobed to assist in the deflating.
But recently, I learned that my fanny has another talent; a use more valuable that a toilet seat cover.
A paper towel dispenser.
Now, I can pull a lot of things out of my ass, and paper towels from that region is of no use to anyone, so allow me to explain.
In the woman's bathroom at work we have an automatic paper towel dispensers. Ours if a fickle one. In theory, we are supposed to wave our hands under the senser to get a stream, but our dispenser makes us work for it. You have to damn near make love to it to get it to work. In fact, by the time anyone manages to get a paper towel, she has waved her hands around so much that a 757 has landed in the handicap stall and her hands are already dry. And in the amount of time we teachers have to pee added to the size of our bathroom as disproportionate to the amount of females on campus, no one has time to monkey-fuck around.
A colleague one told me that the senser doesn't work if it gets wet. Wait a second, a senser is sensitive to water when it's job is to provide that which takes the wetness away?
Regardless of the efficiency of anything "technological," I will have problems with it. So, I automatically go for the extra roll perched on top of a shelf by the door. I have enough aggravation in my life.
But then, my talented ass provided another solution. As I emerged from the stall and went to wash my hands something amazing happened.
To fully understand, you must study the picture to the left carefully. Note the layout of sink to dispenser.
I bent over to wash my hands and a ream of paper dropped right out. My booty set off the dispenser. And by the way, the senser is on the underside of it.
How convenient! Not only is that towel ready for me, but it saves time because it is dispensing while I am washing. Awesome.
The colleague standing in line --my former student teacher, I might add-- was thinking more of my feelings than my new-found talent. As I turned to ask, "Did you see what my butt just did?" I found her covering her mouth with her hands, eyes popped open wide.
My response? "Hey, what can your butt do?"