Tom Wolfe

The movie "Madagascar" has many things to recommend it, not least of which are the plummy monkeys Phil and Mason who escape the New York Zoo and attend a Tom Wolfe reading at the Lincoln Center with the sole intention of throwing poo at the Man in White.

Problem: Toddler brains are the size of walnuts.

Other problem: Toddlers are poo mines.

Third problem: Monkey see. Monkey do.

Fourth problem: I think it's probably obvious what went on in the TV room this morning.

Researching on Google under search terms "baby feces stain removal carpet," I stumbled on this bit of advice from the Ohio State University Extension website:

Hog confinement odor: Wash clothes adding 1/4 to 1/2 cup household ammonia to wash load with heavy-duty detergent. Do not mix ammonia and bleach in same wash load. Toxic fumes are produced. Ammonia can be used on colored fabrics, but occasionally its use will change the garment's color.

Good to know.

Also good to know: Not only did Tom Wolfe write The Kandy-Kolored Tangerine-Flake Streamline Baby, he also authored a book called "Hog Heaven." Ah, the web draws tighter

But none of it gets me any closer to returning my berber to its once pristine state. The thing is this: I have a big problem with poo. Everyone said it wouldn't bother me when it was my own child's, but everyone didn't know me as well as they ought. Here I am upstairs writing my blog, while downstairs IT festers. I dashed down with the Lysol, frantically spritzed in the TV room without really looking, and then bolted back into the sun.

I'm now looking on MLS to see what sort of price we might get for the voodoo bungalow, poo stain on the carpet and all. Moving would beat going down there and scrubbing or whatever one does with such things.

Daydream: Tom Wolfe comes to the door in his white suit, his white hat, and with his wife, Sheila. They change into work clothes, concoct a pitcher of daquiris, then march downstairs to take care of IT, all the while shouting bon mots up the stairs. I capture them giddily on my laptop and turn the whole episode into an article for Harpers that makes them forget all about that shmendrick David Foster Wallace and his footnotes.

What will I give Tom Wolfe and his wife Sheila for lunch? Will they find grilled cheese sandwiches and a home-made dill pickle too mid-Western? ("Of course she cans.") Were they perhaps hoping for buffalo burgers or freshly caught trout from a mountain stream? Will they write an article in Harpers about their disappointment? Whatever will they say about this grey sweatshirt? Damn, I KNEW I should have changed into something more radical chic before I let them in.