Deep thought of the day: Once you deal with infant doodoo-feces every three hours every day, the power of scatological humor dulls as quickly as your gag reflex.
I was pretty liberal with the bad taste humor before Junebug, but now I have to either abandon it altogether or become even more disgusting. A 7 on the gross-out scale just doesn't even register on my funnybone anymore. Just a warning, friends. Choppy, unsanitary waters ahead.
