The Golden Girls and the Potty Patch

OK, I should have been in bed hours ago. I have had a big day today and am dead on my feet. But it is 11 PM and there seems to be a mini marathon of the Golden Girls on the Hallmark Channel and the episode on now is the one where Dorothy's lesbian friend comes to visit and she hits on Rose. So obviously I am not going to bed just yet.

The remarkable thing about late-night television is the ability it has to seduce you with seemingly useless products.....until you realize that you desperately need these products. How have I lived my life without the InStyler? Or even attempted to cook without an onion blossomer? I consider myself an adequate hairstyler and cook, but clearly I have been mistaken. My life has apparently, according to these commercials, been comprised of frustrating moments lived in black and white while I fumbled with a seemingly easy can opener. According to these ads I most likely have slammed the can opener down onto the coounter in discouragement and raised my head heavenward while mouthing the simple phrase "why?"

I am a sucker for these products and fortunately do not have to suffer the indignity of conacting a company in Millsburg, Tennessee for my Magic Bullett. I leave this to my mother. Actually, she just waits until they appear on the shelves at Target and then abandons them after trying them once or twice. They get relegated to one of the industrial shelves she keeps in the kitchen and I play with them during fits of boredom while visiting. But I digress. Tonight, after Rose pretended to be asleep while a lesbian with a thing for cotton-candy haired, bosomy blondes slept next to her, I saw the Potty Patch.

The Potty Patch promises to be the answer to all of your pet feces and urinary problems. Tired of taking your Sheltie outside to defecate? Just lead him to the Astroturf next to the Culligan water dispenser. It is just that easy. When he is done, scoop up the poop, flush it and thank the heavens you never had to go outside. Peeing is another issue. Your small, medium or large dog can urinate on the faux grass and it drains to a tray underneath. When you are done collecting urine for the day you simply take the tray and flush the "liquid" down the toilet. Et voila! Once again, your dog (or you) does not need to suffer the indignity of walking in your own yard.

The idea disgusts me for two reasons: first, the thought of collecting urine makes me want to retch, and secondly, this is fucking genius! There are people like my mother out there willing to buy this product and I didn't invent it, therefore I am not making money off of it! Right now my mother lays paper pads out for her chihuahua to poop and pee on and it is only a matter of time before she gets this. It is such a simple concept and thousands, if not millions, of overly indulgent pet owners will be clamoring to buy this. I am saddened that I never thought of this, and even more saddened that I have to invent something equally as simple yet marketable.

I am waiting for the day an adult human version of the Potty Patch will be needed and then I will debut it on late-night TV. It is inevitable that Americans will soon become too lazy and self-absorbed to take time out of their 4 o'clock Court Block to tend to their bowel needs, and this is where I step in. When the time is right, I will unveil my new product. It will be nothing more than an ultra-absorbent towel that one lays on the floor. However, I will call it a "microfiber blend" and asssure my purchasers that it is made in Germany, and you know the greatest products come from Germany.

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