Here’s a random thought… how do blind people know when they’re done wiping? It’s not like they can just casually look down at the paper and make a decision. And as far as I know there’s no such thing as butt brail unless you’re reading hemorrhoids. But I have a feeling the science on that one might be a little sketchy.
So how do they do it? Hire a spotter? Imagine what that job interview would be like.
“What’s this look like to you?”
“Either you hit an artery or you have another twenty minutes of wiping. Do I get the job?”
I’m genuinely confused by this. Do they have to just keep sniffing the toilet paper and hope for the best? And you know they probably never properly finish the job. They get about twelve steps from the bathroom and all of a sudden their butthole starts itching. You know that feeling. It’s like a text message from your colon letting you know that you missed a spot. And then what do you do?
You can’t even sneak a finger back there for a little scratch and sniff. Someone could be watching. It’s not like you can take a quick look around to make sure the coast is clear. You just have to suck it up and fight the urge to start finger plowing ground zero.
And what if it’s one of those ghost shits that doesn’t leave a mark? It’s like the turd was trained at the CIA. No evidence at the crime scene whatsoever. How do they detect that one? They just have to take it on good faith that in twenty minutes they won’t be slowly developing adult-onset diaper rash? No thanks.
If I were the president the first thing I would do is pass a law that all the blind people get bidets. What a concept. A mutant toilet that acts like a water fountain except it’s for your butt. What psycho came up with that invention? Some guy that was just really tired of wiping and was like, “Fuck it. Just spray some water up there and we’ll call it even.” Gotta love the French.
I guess dating would be easier if you were blind. She could have a unibrow and it wouldn’t matter. Cross-eyed? At least one of you can see… kind of. “How many fingers am I holding up? Great. Now check me for skid marks.”
Maybe love really is blind.