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Post by Gumbyhawk on Mar 29, 2013 20:06:44 GMT -6
I don't really have any stories. I just wanted to start another poop thread cuz this site really, really needs a new poop thread.
If I remember any cool poop stories, I'll share here. Until then, whaddya got?
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Post by Deleted on Mar 29, 2013 20:22:03 GMT -6
I wish I could remember that hilarious joke I heard about Crohn's disease. It was side--and colon--splitting.
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Post by The Resistance on Mar 29, 2013 22:23:08 GMT -6
Careful, those can be very inflammatory.
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Post by Deleted on Mar 29, 2013 22:27:20 GMT -6
Careful, those can be very inflammatory. whoa LOL  |
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Post by GhostMod 5000 on Mar 29, 2013 23:35:16 GMT -6
On Tuesday night, I ate fried cheese balls and buffalo wings. I went home about 10:00, and was so bloated and greasy feeling, that I decided to walk le wiener dawg for some exercise to keep me from feeling liek such a fatty.
I get about 1/4 a mile from home, and feel a little rumble in mah tummy, and consider turning back, but then I let teh fart, and it's all good. I get about 3/4 mile from home, and suddenly, teh situation gets EXTREMELY critical, extremely fast. I am desperately close to shitting my pants, and, at best, a three minute run from home. However, running is not an option, because the urge to shit is so severe, duck walking with mah cheeks pressed together is the only option.
Suddenly, shitting in an unsuspecting neighbor's yard seems liek a real possibility. As I waddle down 29th St. Place, I look for a dark place to drop trou in an emergency. No suitable place presents itself, so I trudge homeward, stopping occasionally to clench mah cheeks hard and release teh pressure, hoping to Jesus I don't shit my pants.
This goes on for 10 minutes. When I finally approach le house, I am pretty sure I shit mah pants. I take off my coat outside in anticipation of hitting le toilet teh second I walk in the door (It's liek 25 degrees out). I blissfulyl get inside and bolt for teh John. By some miracle, outside of a pinprick of brown, by white boxers have no feces in them.
While I am in the john, mah wife, sitting in the living room, complains that she can smell teh stank, even with the door closed.
I eat nothing but oatmeal the next day.
Fin.
(Happy Gumby?)
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Post by Deleted on Mar 30, 2013 7:40:19 GMT -6
Note to Ghosto: install a high-quality ventilation fan in your shitter ASAP or divorce shall be unavoidable.
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Post by GhostMod 5000 on Mar 30, 2013 7:43:32 GMT -6
d00d, she nukes that shitter the second she walks in teh house from work every day. She has no leg to stand on here, or as it were, no pot to squat on.
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Post by Deleted on Mar 30, 2013 8:03:44 GMT -6
Was there a time in your relationship with Frau Ghosto, perhaps early in the courtship phase, where neither of you would so much as squeak out a tiny fart in front of the other?
My wife has (rightfully) convinced me that we need to return to a higher level of personal decorum with one another, to refresh the mystery and excitement. No moar belching and farting at le dinner table and in bed. Complacency and acceptance of slob tendencies can be harmful to intimacy.
It's working, fwiw.
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Post by GhostMod 5000 on Mar 30, 2013 8:07:41 GMT -6
Was there a time in your relationship with Frau Ghosto, perhaps early in the courtship phase, where neither of you would so much as squeak out a tiny fart in front of the other? My wife has (rightfully) convinced me that we need to return to a higher level of personal decorum with one another, to refresh the mystery and excitement. No moar belching and farting at le dinner table and in bed. Complacency and acceptance of slob tendencies can be harmful to intimacy. It's working, fwiw. That's all well and good, but I don't think either of us has much control over the severity of our fecal odor. |
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Post by Deleted on Mar 30, 2013 8:14:55 GMT -6
OK, back to poop now:
I once sharted in the bathroom of a KFC in Bumfuck, TN. It was about two years ago. I pulled in to gain both kinds of relief, but to my consternation the lone stall was occupied by some dude wearing huge dirty boots (twas all I could see). So I stepped to the urinal, thinking I'd take care of the full bladder part of the equation. While pissing, I feel what I think is a gas bubble asking to be set free; I relax my sphincter to allow the gas to exit, but omfg a jet of hot liquid poo has nudged the bubble aside and made a break for the fence (my shorts). Whoops.
I look desperately toward the stall, but Mr. Workboots is still occupying it.
So I clench up le buttox, warsh my hands (I'm done pissing by now, and in a full panic), and step carefully out of the bathroom. I wait.
I wait some more...feels like a goddam eternity...when finally the durty boot-dude finishes up and exits. I hastily move into the stinking, fetid stall and drop trou. My boxers are soiled beyond salvation, so I strip 'em off and wad 'em up. Thankfully, by some miracle, no shit has accumulated on the inside of my pants (protip: don't evar wear tight slacks, fellers - it's bad for your nards and if you evar shart yourself, you'll have no chance at a save).
I clean myself up in the stall, pull my pants up and chuckle lightly at the idea of finishing my trip in commando fashion, exit the stall, throw the wadded boxers away, warsh up again, and depart the premises, nevar looking back.
Edit: the cause of this nightmare was the chips & salsa I'd snacked on the night before. Fucking corn and black bean salsa. Wow.
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Post by thefuckingboss on Mar 30, 2013 8:32:49 GMT -6
In the spring of 2002 I was on tour.
After the tour ended, the lead singer got offered another tour opening up for a much more major star. So of course he took the gig and offered for me to come along, play some of the set with him and also tour manage.
The tour actually started in Iowa City, and the next show was in Lincoln.
So we're on our way I-80 West in our rented car. I am sleeping, and as is often the case when you are sleeping in a car, a change of speed woke me up, We are on the side of the highway, and I ask what is going on.
I'm about to shit my pants Mr. Singer man says. He takes napkins from Starbucks, exits the vehicle, and run downs a hillside, drops trow and let's it rip. I was laughing so hard, I almost had to join him.
________
Sam tour, I got real constipated and went 9 days without taking a shit. It was horrible. To this day, I get backed up when I travel. So in Albuquerque, NM I decide that I have to go nuclear or check myself into the emergency room.
So I took a bunch of laxatives.
Nothing.
Next morning, we're driving to Texas, I have a power bar. I take one bite, and ruh roh. Where to go? FAZOLI's. I run into the restaurant, don't even acknowledge the hostess and let it fly. 9 Days worth of fly.
________________
My Dad's best friend growing up (who later became a mid level on air personality for a major network) was working construction in the summer on Lake Shore Drive. He had to go real bad, but there was no porta john and he was working.
So he went into the median, put a paper bag over his head and did his business in the middle of LSD during Rush Hour.
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Post by GhostMod 5000 on Mar 30, 2013 8:35:47 GMT -6
OK, back to poop now: I once sharted in the bathroom of a KFC in Bumfuck, TN. It was about two years ago. I pulled in to gain both kinds of relief, but to my consternation the lone stall was occupied by some dude wearing huge dirty boots (twas all I could see). So I stepped to the urinal, thinking I'd take care of the full bladder part of the equation. While pissing, I feel what I think is a gas bubble asking to be set free; I relax my sphincter to allow the gas to exit, but omfg a jet of hot liquid poo has nudged the bubble aside and made a break for the fence (my shorts). Whoops. I look desperately toward the stall, but Mr. Workboots is still occupying it. So I clench up le buttox, warsh my hands (I'm done pissing by now, and in a full panic), and step carefully out of the bathroom. I wait. I wait some more...feels like a goddam eternity...when finally the durty boot-dude finishes up and exits. I hastily move into the stinking, fetid stall and drop trou. My boxers are soiled beyond salvation, so I strip 'em off and wad 'em up. Thankfully, by some miracle, no shit has accumulated on the inside of my pants (protip: don't evar wear tight slacks, fellers - it's bad for your nards and if you evar shart yourself, you'll have no chance at a save). I clean myself up in the stall, pull my pants up and chuckle lightly at the idea of finishing my trip in commando fashion, exit the stall, throw the wadded boxers away, warsh up again, and depart the premises, nevar looking back. Edit: the cause of this nightmare was the chips & salsa I'd snacked on the night before. Fucking corn and black bean salsa. Wow.  |
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Post by Gumbyhawk on Mar 30, 2013 11:23:41 GMT -6
Nice stories so far, doods! Keep em coming!
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Post by GhostMod 5000 on Mar 30, 2013 11:52:54 GMT -6
I almost started a new thread based on teh poop I described above. I wanted le rage comix to accompany it, but I nevar had the time. I am glad a new, umbrella poop thread developed to allow me to share.
Exalt to u Gumb.
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Post by Deleted on Mar 31, 2013 15:29:54 GMT -6
Was there a time in your relationship with Frau Ghosto, perhaps early in the courtship phase, where neither of you would so much as squeak out a tiny fart in front of the other? My wife has (rightfully) convinced me that we need to return to a higher level of personal decorum with one another, to refresh the mystery and excitement. No moar belching and farting at le dinner table and in bed. Complacency and acceptance of slob tendencies can be harmful to intimacy. It's working, fwiw. Wait until you and your lovely Cyn hit, oh, about 55. At that point emissions from either end become unavoidable at any time of the day or night, and (mostly) acceptable. |
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Post by Deleted on Mar 31, 2013 15:41:31 GMT -6
For the past year I've put together my own "energy" mix of nuts, dried berries, granola and bits of dark chocolate. Buy in bulk at discount, blend in a large pot and spoon into "snack" size Baggies. Good stuff loaded with omega, oils and antioxidants, a healthy alternative to other snacks. Only down sides are gas and loose poops apparently loaded with air/gas that all float at the top and require a couple flushes to clear.
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Post by mistere on Mar 31, 2013 17:01:52 GMT -6
One time I walked into a public restroom with multiple stalls. The first stall I was going to use had what surely was the largest turd to ever come from a human being proudly left in the toilet for all to see. It had to have been at least 6" in diameter and 10" in length. It was the size of a newborn baby. Maybe the individual that left it there took the joke about giving birth to a politician a little too seriously. It's a wonderment how someone could have that monstrosity exit through their bung and live to see another day. I have no idea how it got flushed down, it had to have caused some serious clogging of the plumbing on the way down.
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Post by TaterWanger on Apr 1, 2013 7:31:23 GMT -6
Short story. This all I'm out in the yard cleaning up my choice boat and getting ready to put her up for the year. It was late afternoon and we had just spent all afternoon drinking le beer teh. Boones Farm in party cove. As I'm working to get it cleaned up a rare severed storm approaches. For those that know boating this is a problem for you can't put a bost away wet. To make mstters worse the forecast called for rain for the next two or three days so if it got wet now who knows how long it would take to dry. As I feverishly work to complete the task at hand the combination of beer and Boones makes its exit strategy be known. With the storms leading edge bearing down on me I am faced with a delima, let the boat get wet or shit my pants.
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Post by GhostMod 5000 on Apr 1, 2013 7:35:03 GMT -6
Short story. This all I'm out in the yard cleaning up my choice boat and getting ready to put her up for the year. It was late afternoon and we had just spent all afternoon drinking le beer teh. Boones Farm in party cove. As I'm working to get it cleaned up a rare severed storm approaches. For those that know boating this is a problem for you can't put a bost away wet. To make mstters worse the forecast called for rain for the next two or three days so if it got wet now who knows how long it would take to dry. As I feverishly work to complete the task at hand the combination of beer and Boones makes its exit strategy be known. With the storms leading edge bearing down on me I am faced with a delima, let the boat get wet or shit my pants. Drinking while poasting is never a good idea, particularly for teh CEO of Duffmod inc. on a Monday morning. |
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Post by mistere on Apr 1, 2013 8:46:29 GMT -6
Spell check is a terrible thing to waste, how true that is.
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Post by Deleted on Apr 1, 2013 8:56:05 GMT -6
Duff = atomicblue
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Post by Presidential Immunity Cock on Apr 1, 2013 9:09:28 GMT -6
Well... Last thursday, I was in Le Denver again for work. I had just got off work and checked into my hotel room. The check in girl was a very hot, dark complected italian girl with a very sexy voice. I thought of rubbing one out to her, but first I had to take a shit. Well, lets just say that shit plugged the fuck out of the toilet, so knowing that I'd be drinking some beer and need to piss later, I called down to have them send some mexican maintenance dude up to plunge the fuck out of it. Nope, they sent up the hot chick with a plunger to pull out a 16 inch shit that clogged the fuck out of it.
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Post by Deleted on Apr 1, 2013 9:17:49 GMT -6
tell us about the time you took a shit in someone's fish tank, R2
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Post by Presidential Immunity Cock on Apr 1, 2013 9:36:21 GMT -6
Nah... bad memories dude... I killed a fish with that turd.
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Post by mistere on Apr 1, 2013 12:29:13 GMT -6
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