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…also known as Dr. Oz’s 3-Day Detox Cleanse!

That’s right, folks! After nearly killing myself four years ago, and then revisiting the torture two years later, KB and I have decided to try our hands at yet another detoxing cleanse. Whoopee!

The good news is that, unlike the previous detox from Arbonne, this cleanse is only three days long. But it’s a long three days, my friends. A long… three… days.

Basically, for three days in a row you blend up a large shake for every meal. Three days, nine meals, nine shakes. And that’s it. Other than water and green tea, that’s all you get!

The breakfast shake is the best of the batch, which sucks because that means my day is all downhill after 10AM. It’s made of mostly berries and bananas and some other sweet crap.

The lunch shake is the absolute worst. It’s made from kale and cucumbers and celery and other boring-ass foods that people typically douse in dressing or dip to cover up their blah taste. It’s boring and slow and painful… a lot like this movie I’m half-watching right now called Shame (which should’ve been called Michael Fassbender’s Huge Dong Flails Around In Front Of The Camera For An Hour And Forty Minutes).

Still, I’d gladly take Michael Fassbender’s enormous dong over one ounce of that awful lunch shake any day of the week.

The dinner shake is the middle ground. Half of it is sweet, the other half is avocado, kale and cayenne pepper. It tastes somewhere between the sweetest salsa you’ve ever tasted and the shittiest ice cream you’ve ever licked.

I’m selling the shit out of this, aren’t I?

We just finished day two (we’re six meals down with three to go). So why am I telling you all this?


No shit, I rewound a Denny’s commercial about ten times tonight because it showed a real breakfast being made! I saw a commercial for one of those natural dog food products that shows the hunks of meat and vegetables before they get mashed into a paste and my mouth started watering! Earlier tonight, I almost licked the fork after feeding Meatshake and Heisenberg their wet food!

Somebody! Anybody! Please… BRING ME A SANDWICH!

Goddamn… Saturday morning’s breakfast is going to taste awesome… even if it’s just a bowl of Raisin Bran.

If any of you masochists out there are interested in trying this torture for yourself, here’s the outline.

Three Days in Hell, by Dr. Oz!

Dr. Oz? More like Dr. Mengele,


PS: I was wrong about Shame. It was way worse than I originally thought.

…back in August 2009? Yeah… that was fun… ish.

Well, guess what Kathy’s sister got us for Christmas this year?

Yep. Another detox treatment. And today is Day One.


I’m apologizing to my toilet ahead of time,


It’s official: I’m detoxed. Or at least that’s what I’ve been told.

Let me explain.

A few weeks ago, Kathy and I received a gift from her sister. The gift? A seven-day detox program guaranteed to free our bodies of the harmful toxins that have been chilling out in our digestive systems for Lord knows how long.

Now, from what (albeit little) I know about detox programs, they are fairly intense treatments that typically involve herbal remedies, a drastically changed diet, drinking a lot of water, etc.

But not this program.

Unlike most other detox programs, our rules were fairly simple:

1. Open your seven-day kit.

SeaSource Detox Spa

2. Remove a tiny, one-ounce bottle of detox magic potion. Open.

SeaSource Detox Spa

3. Pour the bottle’s contents into the supplied water bottle and mix with 32 ounces of water. Shake well.

SeaSource Detox Spa

4. Drink the entire concoction at your leisure throughout the day.

That’s it! Not bad, huh? We got off pretty easy!

Whoops! I almost forgot the last step:


It was insane. How insane? Hmmm… lemme see if I can explain this experience to you in a way that will actually do it justice: Lake Erie is more solid than anything that came out of me during those seven days.

At one point during Day Two, I actually APOLOGIZED TO OUR TOILET. I’m not kidding. I stood up, looked down at it and said, “I’m sorry. You don’t deserve this.” If our toilet had a mind and a personality, Kathy and I would both be on death row right now for cruel and inhumane abuse. If he could (yes, our toilet is a male), our toilet would be writing his congressman about the ordeal. It was that bad.

I swear to Christ, I crapped out remnants of every meal I’ve ever eaten, including a can of mashed peas my mom fed to me in December of 1976, a Happy Meal my dad bought me in 1984, and a booger I ate in the second grade.

It was so bad that we started planning our days around it. Like, “Well, I have to do this interview at 1PM, so I guess I’ll wait to choke down my explosive-diarrhea-triggering donkey sludge until later so I don’t have to do the interview from the toilet.”

It had that much control over us; it was that powerful.

I’d like to tell you about a certain part of the story, about how someone was possibly shitting their brains out so violently that they had to grab the garbage can that was sitting next to them and vomit into it as they continued having ass-plosive diarrhea.

I’d like to tell you that part of the story, but I can’t because it didn’t happen to me. Shhh….

It got to the point where I’d get up and just want to get it over with. I’d chug down 32 ounces of that mud in a handful of minutes, and then spend the next six hours treating my toilet as if it were an arch-nemesis that had killed my entire family.

So am I now convinced that I’m toxin-free? You’re goddamn right I am. Christ, I’m convinced I’m intestine-free, to be quite honest. I better be toxin-free because there’s no way in hell I’m doing that shit again.

Thanks to Kathy’s sister for sending it along! Now could you please follow it up with 48 rolls of Charmin, a bottle of industrial-strength toilet bowl cleaner, and an assload of Glade PlugIns?

My tank is empty,


Old Poop!