Clean-up, Aisle 7

Headache. Incontinence. Antacids. Greeting cards.



There is only one person in the world who could call me at 10:30 at night, say that something he saw reminded him of me, and proceed to use all of the words above in one sentence.

Mark and I do this. We see weird stuff, and then say, “Mike would understand.” or “Mark should really know about this.” And so we call across a distance of 430 miles to tell each other. We get a big laugh out of it, knowing that any FBI agents listening in would likely react with “What the fuck are these two talking about?!”


The above four terms were seen on a sign in a supermarket in North Carolina. They describe the contents of Aisle 7. Mark rightly called me, wondering if I could draw a connection between them. Before I could, though, I had to look up “incontinence”. (I didn’t feel too bad. So did Mark.) Turns out it meant what I imagined it did. Yuck.

My first thought was a new line of Hallmark cards. “Toilet Bowl Greetings”, we’d call them. Linking the above, our first printing would have to be….

“You make me sick to my stomach, but don’t let it go to your head, you little shit.”

Followed by…

“Roses are red, trees are green. Your trips to the bathroom are the longest we’ve seen.”

and

“For a very special occasion: the release of your bladder is a celebration to remember.”


So I started thinking, what other bodily-function-related greeting cards could we make?

“Glad you’re out of the hospital. Can we come over and see your kidney stones?”

“Sorry to hear about the diabetes. Hope the enclosed cheesecake makes you feel better.”


And of course, as long as we’re being politically incorrect, there’s the Mortuary Line.

“Sorry to hear about your husband’s passing. What are you doing Friday night?"


Now I can’t wait to go back to the supermarket.

Reread, review, relearn

I see that I've said it, I can't say it any better. So rather than say again what I said, shall we say we see what I say I said?

See?