How to enjoy Labor Day is a subject that comes up every year. And why not, since this blessed day only happens once per annum (not the same as anus you ass)? So, this holiday which lets worker bees escape the Man or the Queen for one day is important to enjoy and not waste.

So, how do you enjoy the Labor Day weekend? I suppose you could drink beer with friends and family and do some grilling. But, that is way to cliché for you, my friend. Been there and done that and never again I say.

No, what I say, and you may disagree, (and if you do I will be at your front door shortly with a Chinese Mafioso name Sven to knock some sense into you) but the top way to enjoy the Labor Day weekend is by going into labor yourself. Now hear me out. Yes, you.

If you are a woman this will apply to you. And, if you are a man, this will also oddly enough apply to you, too. If you are a woman and pregnant then what better way to bring your baby into the world than having a world class labor on Labor Day? If you are a woman and not pregnant then wait three months and get pregnant so next year this will apply to you.

Now, however, if you are a man, a real man, then you can enjoy Labor Day in a similar fashion. Oh, really, you say, "Men don't get pregnant". Now, why would you say this to me? Just to hurt my feelings? No, you actually do make a good point (and I may use your head to puncture a hole in my neighbor's tire one day) but sadly not a good enough point.

You see men don't get pregnant obviously but men do get constipated. I'm talking really, really constipated. I'm talking the type of constipated that is as close as we can get to labor pains and we are grunting and groaning on the toilet seat trying to get that little sh*thead out of us.

Now, before Labor Day (as in right now, today), stop drinking water, eat cheese, bread and any other food with no fiber content that will stop you up like as sphincter with a foreign finger in it.

By Labor Day your bowels will be wound as tightly as the Tasmania Devil. And, it is upon this blessed day that you will want to get out the gynecological stirrups, hole up in the bathroom for about three hours reading the Wall Street Journal and induce gastrointestinal labor.

Yes, their will be grunting and groaning and screaming. You may need your wife or girlfriend to hold your hand. You will be swearing to "get that thing out of me" and other such words. And, then finally, finally you'll be crowning.

But, as you crown your sphincter with that overly inflated turd, my friend, you'll need to push. Your wife or girlfriend will need to measure the centimeters. And you'll need to push some more.

You'll be straining until you're red in the face and crying for your mommy. And, then the moment will happen. There will be that release.

You will be filled with a joy like no other you've ever experienced. You'll get up from that toilet seat and observe the brown python baby you created that is so long it will stick out over the toilet seat cover and onto the bathroom floor.

Your little brown turd baby will smile up at you and you will finally know the joy of spawning the most incredible Pooh child the world has ever known. You'll keep pictures in your wallet and show it to your friends. They will gasp and then pat you on the back.

And your last step will be to post the pictures on Facebook with the title of "This is what I did on my Labor Day Weekend".