The Long Ride Home

Let me begin this particular post with a joke that I think, is most fitting:

A woman was unhappy with the way her laundry was done at the local Chinese Laundry, so she wrote a note and put it in the bag with the next collection of soiled clothes: “USE MORE SOAP ON PANTIES!”

She got her clean laundry back and was still dissatisfied with the results, so the following week, she enclosed yet another note: “USE MORE SOAP ON PANTIES!”

The owner of the laundry was annoyed at this most recent note…downright furious actually and when the woman’s clean laundry was delivered back to her, it contained a note from him: “USE MORE PAPER ON ASS!

And scene……………


Vanity, thy name is Laurie.

As much as I hate to admit it, it’s true. Like so many women, I’ve spent a lifetime trying to get thinner, taller, blonder……happier. Why? Because magazines like Cosmo, Redbook, Glamour and Bovine Quarterly all told me that I wasn’t good enough. Not as I was anyway and sadly, pathetically, I bought into it. I would have to go to great lengths to make myself acceptable in my eyes…or as how Elle Magazine told me to view myself.

So, I went on diets; worked out..even had a little “work done”, but that wasn’t enough. So, when I learned of this new drug just introduced by Roche, I thought to myself, “Hot dog!! I gotta gimme some Xenical!”



Orlistat (as they white coats call it) is a drug that does something to or with something called lipasis and enzymes in the lower GI tract. This pill has the uncanny ability to prevent the body from absorbing as much as 30-percent of the fat as consumed through food.

And it eliminates the excess, undigested fat the way the body normally eliminates waste.

Via the excretory system and fecal matter.

Small price to pay for a smaller butt, right?

Well, fecal matter isn’t exactly correct. I would call this an eruption of a substance so vile that it defies description.

And I would imagine it could remove paint.

I know for a fact it removed my dignity!

Permit me to explain.

A few years ago, I was on one of my many diets and was prescribed Xenical. Tried it for a few weeks. Now, don’t get me wrong… I know this is a great drug that’s safe and effective and I would venture that it has some amazing success stories . I lost weight. However, I had a nasty experience while on it. It was my fault. I’m sure it was something I did on my end.

As a matter of fact, I KNOW it was something on my “end”..

From my end…

This is an explanation of side effects from a related website:

gas with oily discharge, an increased number of oily bowel movements–possibly very loose in texture with the urgent need to have them, and an inability to control them, particularly after meals containing higher amounts of fat”

So, I was working at a radio station in downtown Houston, but lived in a suburb which was about an 18 mile drive—45 minutes in duration in typical Houston off-hour traffic. On this particular day, I had to attend a morning show luncheon at a lovely Italian restaurant not far from the station.

We were served Fettucini Alfredo, Sausage and Peppers, Garlic Bread and pizza was also there for the taking. And I took it all.

The problem was the fat content in everything. The food was so good–I’d been doing quite well on my diet–what would one meal hurt? Besides, I LOVE Italian, so I ate with abandon, forgetting about the Xenical I was taking. Now, mind you, I’d read all the literature. So, I knew the risks.

We ate…we took care of a little business. and we left two hours later. I prepared for my 18 mile drive home in mid-afternoon Houston traffic…..on a Friday… the rain.

I hit Mile marker 3–a mere 15 miles to go:

Then, I felt “the cramp” in my abdomen.

Actually cramp isn’t entirely accurate. THINK: Paul Reiser at the table in that now infamous lunch scene in the movie “Alien”. It had to have been a pain much like giving birth. Because as each second passed, it was becoming abundantly clear that WHATEVER was in me, wanted out.

I have an annoying phobia of allowing only certain bodily functions to play out in public restrooms, so stopping at a service station or fast food restaurant was out of the question.

The cramping was incredible. I didn’t know what to do. I figured I needed to get my mind off that fact that it felt as though Napoleon and Custer were assembling their troops in my G.I. tract.

I turned on my car radio. Country music….press button. Opera…..hit scan. Ah, news and talk. That’ll work. I tuned in just in time to hear a time and temperature check before going to break. Thank God the station was in commercials— mind numbing commercials that would take my mind off my troubles.

“The Las Vegas Convention and Visitors’ Bureau invites you to come play in Vegas…Our crap tables…”

NOPE! Change stations.

I hit “search” and I landed on a Top 40 format and another commercial:

“At the Jamaican airport, you can shop duty free…” All I heard was “doodie”.

Again, change ; another station. This time, I stopped on a cooking show:

“You sear the steak in the pan with a little olive oil, then add the mushrooms. We recommend shitake….”

I threw in a CD.

Music was working, but so was my sphincter. Overtime.

I didn’t think I could control it any longer. Ouch! Pain!! Pain! I couldn’t keep this fecal juggernaut in…IT WANTED OUT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! IT WANTED…..

And it was out.

Eight miles to go before I arrived in the privacy of my home with it’s convenient attached garage. I sat there….sitting in a car seat devastatingly soiled….a seething cauldron of relief…but that was short lived. You see, I’d eaten a fat laden lunch and Xenical was in fact, doing just as it’s maker said it would.

I was grossed out and trying to be as careful as possible. Now was NOT the time to speed and risk getting pulled over by one of Houston’s finest. My God!! What would I do if that happened?? I’d step out of the car and then try to explain to the Officer why I had a Rorschach inkblot of Wayne Brady on my ass??????


I was closer to home now. Five miles to go. I’m focused, trying not to look down. And you can imagine, breathing through my mouth.

And then another cramp. This one far worst than the first. It was absolute torturous pain. Why hold it? I’m already past the point of no return. So, I relaxed and let it go, let it flow. But flowing wasn’t exactly a part of this equation. Something was different about this round. This was far more..well, solid. And it had force behind it.

In a word, it seemed “pressurized”.

Torque would apply as well.

Suddenly, I felt something warm moving up spine and whatever this was, it also had mass because it was spanning the entire width of my back. Oh no! This CANNOT be happening. But It was and It stopped at my neck. I felt It at my shoulders.

Now mind you, I was wearing a sleeveless dress with a round neck collar. The “mass” introduced itself to my neckline and arm slits. Introduced itself… then kept moving.

Upward and outward.

By this time, I was crying and laughing. This was preposterous. It could only happen to me. I was thanking every God from every religious pantheon I could think of, that I had limousine tint on my car windows.

I was now one proverbial Mogadishu mile from home. The most dangerous…eternity. Then, two blocks from home… block. I was in my driveway. “Come on Genie Automatic Garage Door Opener..Now is NOT the time to act a BITCH!!”

It worked and I was in my garage. Big door down…car door open. I took inventory of myself and my situation.

I had It coming out of from the back of my collar and around a part of my neck. I had to move my hair from being stuck in the thick of it. Too late. Hair enveloped. It was for the first time I ever had real, black roots.

It was also protruding out of from the sleeveless shoulders. What’s odd about this is that my dress bodice was rather were the shoulders and when the substance oozed out, It oozed out in the exact shape of my shoulders…It was “cupping my upper arms. Picture an inverted capital “U”.

I looked like a stinky, dirty, nasty, human Play Dough Fun Factory.

I stepped out of my car and looked back at the car seat.

“Hhhh’mmm”, I thought to myself. “When did I eat broccoli?”

I began walking towards the kitchen door.

I looked behind me…I was leaving a trail of remnants.

I just took off all my clothes…used the dress to remove the excess. That was a waste of time because there were no unsoiled spots on the dress. I was just smearing things and making matters worse. I wadded up my clothes–everything—and tossed it all in the trash. Shoes too. Trust, me they no longer went WITH anything in my wardrobe.

That shade of brown doesn’t exist in nature.

I had huge smear streaks over most of my body. I walk into the kitchen where my boyfriend is toiling away at something. He looked at me and just stared; expressionless and silent. Then, after maybe 20 seconds, he asked me, “Uh..Baby? Please tell me you’ve just participated in a fraternity initiation!!”

I ignored him.

I walked passed him. I greeted my dog who took one whiff of me, then ran outside to his dog house. My cat hissed at me. My parakeet uttered, “Polly wants some Lysol”.

I was depressed, dejected, defeated.


I got in my shower… and emerged two hours later.

As for my car? I bought a new one.


  1. I do dare deign to dedicate this forthcoming oily dookie to your droll musings; my reading of this has made you my surrogate Xenical, for I too shall be enjoying the alternate lifestyle of temporary retromingency. And allz I got is your goddamn brilliant Kendrick sense of humor to blame.

  2. The things we do in the name of aesthetics. I ALMOST opted for Xenical when my ass started its migration southward. I opted for some honest-to-goodness street-legal speed. It did nothing for my weight loss, but it “helped” me not sleep at night – AS IF that was EVER a problem. At this stage of my life, I have to do the kegels thing to keep from peeing when I laugh too hard. Getting old(er)is not for sissies.

    I will take your blog entry as sage advice and avoid the followup buddy to Xenical, inappropriately named alli (pronounced ALLY). Poop is not your friend — at least not in most social settings.

  3. Well Laurie, i think we all been there once or twice, visiting Poo Pants Land.
    Not pleasant at all! It sure the hell makes a story that is so funny it’ll make you poo your pants though!

    This was a good one!

  4. My oh my…the shit that comes out of your mouth…

    I mean hands…

    Nevermind…you get the point.

    You know you could have molded the U-shaped fecal matter into a nice head rest. I’m just saying…

    The amazing part is how the “stuff” (let’s just call it that) went against the work of gravity and up your back! Amazing! Maybe we should develop rocket ships with Xenical laden substance.

    But a good story nonetheless. Would actually be a great story to tell on the radio…maybe NPR can pick it up and play it on All Things Considered…although lets try to avoid the Unsolved Mysteries made for TV re-enactment. That may be a little too much to handle.

  5. Wow, what a stinky story and I know it was to funny at that time.. But, it sure makes a funny one now… I think Xenical and Alli are related, they both give you the uneasy control of gas and all that other cramp!!!! Thanks for great stinky story!!!

  6. As I sit here in this coffee shop, laughing and crying and snorting while reading this, the other patrons are sending me the evil eye. I’d never be able to explain it to them without getting asked to leave.

    I wonder if there’s a line item for that on the CarFax used car report? Because there really, really, should be.

    Great story.

  7. “As for my car? I bought a new one.”

    Did you sell your poopmobile? If so, who’s the lucky bastard who wound up with it? I mean, talk about your collector’s items.

    True fact: Laurie Kendrick is so awesome, her fecal matter actually increases the resale value of any automobile.

  8. Laurie! I was laughing so hard reading this. Hilarious, ridiculous and absoutely digusting. The best recipe for an excellent blog post!

  9. All writer’s are ‘torque-tured’ artists.
    I know, because I didn’t read this blog until just now…because I can’t drag the computer into the bathroom.

    You know the old “Found a peanut” song? Based on fact.

    Anyway, thank you for cheering me up with a tale of misery. You are a great writer, indeed.

  10. Hello Laurie Kendrick,

    You don’t know me, I just blundered in on your blog but BOY am I glad I did. I am so sorry for you, really, but I haven’t laughed that much for such a long time, maybe ever before, you are a gift….. !! A genius…. Thanks.

  11. To steal a line from a basically worthless and now-past D.C. shock jock, I do remember seeing a Poupe de Ville on the market a while back.

    Between Dresden and this, you truly are a one-woman Bomber Command.

    Ah, it feels good to be unblocked . . . . . so to speak.

  12. This is one of my absolute favorite stories EVER!

    Thank you.

    At our ages, we should ALL have at least one # 2 story.

    Thank you.


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