rural fervor.

The more time I spend thinking about the process in the writers’ room during the creation of this line—specifically, the decision to make the diaper’s place of origin the beach—the funnier it becomes to me.

Of COURSE a beach diaper would be the grossest. A gritty, sand-infiltrated diaper of warm, rancid-smelling baby poop sitting in the hot sun in a public place full of sweaty, nearly-naked people flocking to a giant seagull litterbox for a day of rest and relaxation amongst hundreds of other strangers with their screaming vacation children… that is THE. WORST.

And Lemon put it in her mouth.