A brutal reminder that hygiene neglect still haunts more bedrooms than anyone wants to admit.

Welcome back to the month nobody wants, but everyone clearly needs. It is the second annual Dingleberry Awareness Month. If you never read last year’s public health announcement disguised as a casual blog post, you can refresh your memory here.

Now, let us get into the filth. Dingleberries did not magically vanish this year. People still walk among us like roaming berry farms that never got tended or cleaned. A whole population of walking orchards, letting nature do whatever it wants in the dark zones. This month exists because too many people treat their backside like a feral garden, then act shocked when the crop is horrifying.

Has anything changed since last year? Nope. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. The berry harvest continues. Toilet paper still acts like a broken paintbrush, smearing the jam around. Flushable wipes still lie harder than political ads. Bidets keep getting cheaper, but people still act like using one will get them labeled weak, woke, soft, or worse. God forbid someone tries to stay clean, and suddenly they think it is some partisan statement. Imagine living in a society where rinsing your own butt with water might get you called a libtard by someone who cannot even manage a proper wipe.

Meanwhile, the berry fields grow thicker. Roots spreading. Clusters hanging on like they are clinging to Senate seats. Out of sight, out of mind until it becomes a bedsheets skidmark after a sensual session.

Do not feel like you are an exception. Everyone is at risk. No exceptions. Not your friend who thinks they are a hygiene genius. Not your date who claims they are always fresh. Not your partner who swears they clean perfectly.

And yes, you need to have the real conversation with your partner. If they get offended by a simple request to verify basic cleanliness, that is a massive red flag. If this conversation ends the relationship, you did not lose love. You dodged a runaway tractor hauling fermented butt fruit straight into your future.

Better to be single than to wake up next to someone who turns bedsheets into berry-smeared political art projects. Because trust me, both sides of the aisle agree on one thing. Nobody wants surprise jam stains. A relationship that cannot survive a hygiene check was never a relationship. It was a hostage negotiation with candles.

Use a bidet or get an attachment. Trim the forest if the forest keeps producing clusters. Stop trusting flushable wipes unless you enjoy plumbing bills. End every bathroom session with a proper check because confidence without verification is how berry farms become berry disasters.

If you pick fruit, you check for worms. If you manage a garden, you look under leaves. If you own a butt, you check the zone. This is not left or right. It is simply sane.

This month is not about shame. It is about preventing people from walking around smelling like creatures that escaped the woods. It is about saving sheets, saving relationships, and saving friendships from trauma.

Year one opened the conversation. Year two is the reminder that berry season never ends unless you take control.

Welcome to the second annual awareness event. Pick the berries before life picks you apart. Clean the vines. Trim the bushes. Check for clusters. And talk to your partner before a surprise stain or a dreaded sniff test rewrites the way you see them forever.

Stop the harvest. Stay clean. Stay aware. Stay human.