My mom recently celebrated her birthday while on a trip to Tanzania and Zanzibar. (Seeing as I most recently celebrated mine while in army pants and a Disney princess crown, we can go ahead and say my mom wins this round.) Since her phone access on the trip was zero, and her internet access intermittent, I sent her the following quick email on her birthday, after she’d mentioned that a group of baboons had joined her in her tent a few days earlier:
“I hope the baboons didn’t give you a birthday gift (by which I mean poop).”
To which the birthday girl responded:
“No poop from the baboons, just pee from one of the adolescents and also from a Colobus monkey sitting in a tree. Watched a giraffe poop. And I got a lovely photograph of water buck poop. And did I mention the bushman who I watched roll and smoke an elephant-poop doobie?
“So, all in all, a scat-filled and memorable birthday trip. (I dare you to do a blog entry devoted to bodily functions.)”
Let this be a lesson to my mom that if you dare me to write a blog post about poop, I’m going to write a blog post about poop. Especially if it’s monkey poop. HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MOM.
P.S. I’m pretty sure I’ve never seen a colobus monkey before, but as I stared at many pictures of this monkey, it looked more and more familiar to me. This is why:
P.P.S. I’m not ignoring that elephant-poop doobie; that would be not only uncharacteristic of me, but also very irresponsible. I’m just waiting to get the photo of it from my mom. Don’t pretend you’re not curious about a dude smoking elephant poop. I know you are.