The Worst Roommate EVER

Sunday, 14 September 2014

Somehow I always manage to have incidents the night before a big exam. The worst time was not too long ago on an evening when I was furiously studying in my bedroom. Starting to feel pretty queasy, I decided it was time for a potty break. In the bathroom all hell broke loose the minute I sat on the toilet. Thankfully it was quick and relatively painless. I finished up and headed back to my bedroom for more learning. Not 10 seconds later I realize there’s still noise coming from the bathroom – running water. Must’ve left the sink on, I thought, and got up to check. I opened the bathroom door to see water pouring over the toilet bowl. Water and chunks of poop, more specifically. Panicked I high-stepped it gingerly across the bathroom, avoiding the turds, and stopped the water (long ago learned how this is done from many a toilet overflow situation). Then I flung every towel in the bathroom onto the floor. Overwhelmed by the excrement surrounding me, my first thought was to address the high water level in the bowl which was teeming with even MORE feces (I had apparently pooped like a rabbit). I raced into the kitchen with soggy feet and flung open the cupboard. The single solitary ONLY cup sitting there was my roommate’s special plastic college mug. Luckily she wasn’t home. I grabbed it without a second thought and raced back to the bathroom where I started scooping poopy water into the shower. I can’t really say why I did this. Is having poop in your shower preferable to poop in your toilet? Arguably NO, but I guess I couldn’t handle the pressure of the situation. Once the toilet was empty I dealt with the poopy floor and then scraped all the stupid poop out of the shower. Squeegeed, scrubbed, everything was nice and clean. But the cup!! Wh! at was I going to do about the cup? Throw it away? But how could I explain the loss of the cup? I then seriously considered smashing it to explain why it could/SHOULD no longer be used, but it was plastic. Plastic doesn’t incidentally break. Then I entered a scary mindset where I decided that I was over-reacting. Just because I used my roommate’s special college souvenir cup to scoop poop water out of my toilet, didn’t mean it had to be retired. I delivered the cup to the dishwasher and ran a cycle. Since she still hadn’t arrived home yet I ran another. Then I put that cup back into the cupboard right where I’d found it hours before. Don’t know what I was thinking. Should’ve smashed the thing. Now every friggen day of my life I get to watch her drink from that cup and I want to throw up. Once a poop cup, always a poop cup.

Originally posted 2011-09-12 00:30:34.


Doozing by the Ocean

Saturday, 30 August 2014

I was in a popular ocean resort town for vacation. My stomache had been really messed up that day. Walking down the boardwalk with a couple of lifelong friends, I had to go RIGHT NOW. I see a nearby dumpster and go behind it, and there before me is an unopened roll of paper towels on the ground. Yesss! God loves me! Untill…..

I saw my friends hugging each other and laughing. I look up to see what they’re laughing at, and behind me is a hotel. With a balcony on every room. With college-age girls on many of the balconies. Pointing at me. Hugging. Laughing. I was humiliated until I realized that it didn’t matter because I’d never meet any of them or see them again anyway. I finished up and went about my business.

A little further down the boardwalk, my stomach acts up again. I see a little abanded shed with a closed in car-port like structure. Perfect! I can get down in the corner, do my business, and no one will ever see me or know! I didn’t want to dooze on anyone’s floor though, because I try to be a decent guy. I get the bright idea to take off my boxers, tie off the legs, make my deposit in the boxers, and quitely deposit the soiled boxers in the trash can on the beach, undetected. All was going according to planned when the door to the shed flies open, and a crusty old lady (presumably a squatter) steps out and says “What do you call yourself doing?!?!” I was mid deposit, but it scared me so badly that I jerked up my shorts, jumped over the corner, and flung the boxers at the trash can as I ran by it. I missed, and I do apologize to whomever had to clean that up.

I decide that I need more boxers, so we go into a store across the street from the beach. Again, my friends are hugging. Laughing. Pointing. I ask them what’s up, and they then decide to tell me that I’ve been walking around the store with a 2 inch wide brown streak right up the middle of the back of my shorts. Other patrons in the store. Hugging. Laughing. Dry wretching. I love my friends.

Originally posted 2011-08-28 03:40:06.


A Day at the Beach Club

Friday, 29 August 2014

It was the summer of 1955 or 56. I was 12 or 13 years old. We were regular visitors at the Shark River Hills Beach Club not far from where my family had the summer house.
On this day my younger brother had to take a poop real bad but the beach house bathroom stunk and was too crowded, dirty and hot.

Determined to relieve himself, I accompanied my brother as we waded in shallow water up along the beach, out of sight from the bathers where it curved around the bend looking for a discrete place to launch the missile. Operating on the assumption that the load would sink to the bottom as it always does in the toilet bowl, he lowered his trunks and proceeded to slide the brown while waist deep in the water. To my surprise the package rose to the surface buoyed by the increased density of salt water. Not sure how to handle this Archimedian discovery we left the scene and returned to the beach area. The floating torpedo was left bobbing in the shallow water around the bend – out of site.
As always, the beach area was crowded with families and kids. Hours later the tide started to go out and by then we had forgotten all about the floating missile erroneously assuming it would remain anonymously out of site.
Suddenly we heard a frantic scream from a woman who was in the water with her young child – The torpedo had followed the tide current and found its way – a silent intruder invading the swim area. The uninvited guest appeared bobbing along amongst the frolicking children. The woman was not sure what to do but took on the immediate duty of keeping her child far far from the menacing large torpedo turd which had managed to keep its shape and continued to drift along. The increased density of the salt water enable a good portion of the invader to remain above the water line removing any doubt as to its nature.
The woman’s reaction was similar to the reaction of swimmers who spot a shark. This woman apparently came to the conclusion that it was now her duty to save the day. First she rushed her child safely to dry land and found a small board which she planned to use as the capture & removal tool. She bravely re-entered the water to the turd site as all other swimmers had fled to the shore. My brother & I watched this unfolding of events as innocent spectators imagining the way an arsonist feels watching the fire he started.

The woman approached the turd – board in hand – as she carefully placed the board in the water and lifted the torpedo turd out of the water. Having captured the booty she proceeded to shore with the perfect turd delicately balanced on the board like a circus performer delivering a prize catch. As she tried to make her way over the bumpy bottom she lost her balance many times causing the perfectly large round turd to repeatedly roll off the board forcing her to re-capture it several times on her journey to the shore. She was determined to follow through on her mission – she could not quit now – everyone was watching this brave woman. We found it very easy to hold off from exploding with powerful laughter – after all – we were innocent bystanders – no one else was laughing.
Finally the woman made it ashore and walked the boarded turd to the bathroom for dumping. That was it – it was over – the woman was a hero – My brother was the culprit, I was the accomplice and no one knew. I am sure that woman remembers the events of that day but doubt that she has told the story. I wish I could meet that woman today and tell her that 55 years ago when she saved the day at the Shark River Beach Club – it was my brother who launched that missile. Do you think she’d be happy to meet me?

Originally posted 2011-08-27 03:39:20.


Public Poop

Thursday, 28 August 2014

I never thought that I would be one of those people who pooped on myself but I was that day. Yesterday, I went to an outlet mall to eat a japanese hibachi restaurant for my aunt’s birthday. I was so excited because I love their fried rice and cause I would get to spend time with my family. After eating at the restaurant, my aunt and her two children decide to go shopping with my mom and me. We all piled up in my mom’s car and as soon as that happened, my stomach began to cramp. Now, I’m not one to associate cramping with pooping because pooping doesn’t relieve my stomach aches, but I would soon come to find out that that logic isn’t always to true. So, we drive around to another section of the mall and get out. My girl cousin and I go to a shoe store while my mom, boy cousin, and aunt go to another one! . While in the store, I realized that I had to go but that I could hold it. Wrong. We soon exited that store and went into another and after a couple of minutes, I realized that I could not hold this one. I told my cousin that I would be back and left the store. I proceeded to call my mother to tell her that she needs to take me home but then I realized I couldn’t wait for that since we lived thirty minutes away. As I’m walking to where my mom was, she comes out the store she was in and heads for me. I told her that I think I have diarrhea so she says let me take you to Macy’s which was only a few steps away. My little boy cousin wants to come with us but I tell him no go with your mom in a forceful tone that I had never heard myself use. As we are walking quickly to Macy’s, I feel the poop starting to slip it’s way out. I told my mom, “Oh my God, Mom. It’s coming out.” And then she made this frowny face and said, “Yeah and it stinks.” (Thanks mom for ma! king me feel better haha.) Anyways, it starts coming out in my! pants a nd I feel it trickling down my legs in my jean capris. So I decide to use my sweater to cover my accident since we were still in public. I was so embarassed! We get to Macy’s and walk to the bathroom where I let it all out. I immediately sat down on the toilet seat without a seat cover which is something I do NOT do. I do NOT poop anywhere else other than my house. I can’t even poop over my family’s or friends houses but I was so desperate at this point and had no other choice. It was so disgusting it looked like brown oatmeal in my pants and panties.Luckily, my mom had the brilliant idea of buying me new panties and pants in the store which allowed me to save face in front of my family. So while she shopped, I wiped myself off as best as I could and cleaned up the little spots I found on the toilet. Also, there was air freshner laying out in the bathroom which was super convenient. It took three washes to get the stinky smell and out my clothes and I took a long bath that! night.

Originally posted 2011-08-26 03:35:39.


The Mountain Bike Saga – Part 2: Return of the Amoebas

Wednesday, 27 August 2014

Yes there is a part 2. How can there be a part 2? Well let’s just say in part one, I never really figured out why that whole thing happened in the first place. Well in part 2 I did figure it out!

All I can say is it wasn’t that crazy Texas water after all.

So a week later. Same friend and I decide we should go on another mtn bike journey to a different mountain. Like I said I was really into mountain biking at this time.

We show up at the a really green beautiful day. Start riding up these switch backs. We get about 10 miles in. One of the longest trails I have ever ridden. I am thinking how fun the ride back is going to be when suddenly my chain on my bike gets caught and snaps. It completely broke in two, I forget exactly how this happened, but I couldn’t believe it at the time.

I started cursing my bike. I cannot go any further. Just then as I am swearing at my bike, my stomach begins to rumble…. just like it did last week.

‘OH NO’ I thought, ‘NOT AGAIN’. I look at my chain in horror. ‘I guess I can coast back it would be all downhill from here.’ Then I remembered I had about 15 minutes before it would become unbearable like it was last time. I look at my friend and say.

“Dude I can’t believe it, but it is happening again.”

“What is happening again?”

“If I don’t get out of here right now I am going to shit myself.”

“No way man, you are just nervous or something cuz your chain broke, come smoke some of this stuff here with me.”

“Dude you aren’t listening I gotta go now!”

That’s when he really pissed me off, cuz he turned his back and walked away smoking in the wilderness.

I began my long descent coasting. The cramp pains became intense and then more intense. Then they would subside. It was an odd sensation, coasting was enjoyable, but then the pain would intrude suddenly, and I would squint hard trying to pay attention not to fall off the cliffs on either side of the treacherous trail.

After the long descent and through switchbacks in the wilderness. I arrived at the parking lot and saw the bathroom. I was about ready to shit myself there. I began to run to the bathroom. Then the most unexpected thing happened, unfathomable that something could deter me, at this point, by being any more unbearable itself. But there it was. An invisible force field of the foulest shit smell I have ever smelled in my life, emanating from the bathroom that I MUST USE.

Not only am I about to shit, but as I take one step in the shit force field. It is as if the shit smell penetrates my cells and forces me to begin vomiting.

I actually have to step back and cramp my ass cheeks together hard as the ringing in my intestines reaches peak PAIN threshold. SHIT.SHIT.SHIT.SHIT. I realize I have to go to my car and leave. I turn and look for my friend and he is finally making it down the hill.

Then I think better of it and try the bathroom one more time. I get within the threshold and it happens again, I start to vomit the smell is so  gross!

“Ok the hell with this lets go man I can’t use that bathroom, lets go.”

So I start frantically driving. At the end of the road to the beginning of the highway is a fire station.

I get out and begin banging on the fire station door.

No one  answers! I bang and bang and bang. No one is here how can no one be here!

I am wasting precious time. The shit is going to come.

I hop in my car. I begin driving to the only place I know that will have a bathroom.

A pizza place. 30 minutes away…….

At this moment it seemed infinity.

I actually started crying tears from the pain in my intestines. My friend thought this was intensely funny and began laughing out loud.

I think I sang to myself while driving like a lullaby I was making up to try to ease the pain.

Also should be noted this is the most dangerous road in CA to be driving on. People die here all the time driving. I had to pay attention and it was really difficult.

Anyways I made it to the stupid pizza place. There was a kids birthday party going on. I literally stepped over the heads of munchkins partying to get into the bathroom. Thank GOD no one was using the toilet. I would have shit in the sink at that point.

I sat on the toilet and let the hail mary of all shits out. Lifted my legs up even. Straight out of DUMB N DUMBER SHIT. Tears coming out of my eyes.

Weirdest thing is that once it was gone, I felt completely fine.

So moral of the story kids… CLEAN YOUR CAMEL PACK. If you do not clean it, you will get  amoebas growing in there that will make your intestines turn inside out in the middle of no where.

Originally posted 2011-08-25 06:11:24.


The Mountain Bike Saga | Part I – Setting the stage

Tuesday, 26 August 2014

This is a two part story and somewhat long, but funny…

Okay, so about a 3 years ago I got really into mountain biking and I started doing some 8 – 10 mile rides. I would always take a camel pack with me.

For anyone who doesn’t know, a camel pack is like a back pack with a tube so you can fill it with water and drink out of it while you hike or ride a bike.

So after riding for about a year, me and a friend I rode with often, decided we should ride up Mt. Baldy. It is out in the middle of no where and you take a rickety chair lift into the mountain.

As we arrived, we began filling out camel packs up with water.

My friend had a big container of some funny looking water.I asked where he got that water. He said it was from a road trip and he filled it up from a faucet in Texas… we were in California…

I was kind of “shit out of luck” complaining about this though, because we really had no options for other water source, and he was planning on drinking out of it so I wasn’t about to complain.

So we get up the chair lift, hell we even made it all the way to the top of the mountain and back down to the base camp above the chair lift. We decided to get some lunch. I am standing in line. Waiting to buy some food, and suddenly, my stomach starts rumbling, like bad. I try to ignore it at first, but then it became clear it was not ignorable.

I frantically begin looking for a bathroom in this lodge. I find one. I go in and begin shitting and farting like crazy. Reminded me of a dumb and dumber scene.

I wasn’t sure what was happening if it was the water, or just something wrong with me that day. After shitting though I felt much better.

I washed up and began eating some lunch. I am sitting there and my stomach starts hurting bad again, but I complain about it but ignore it.

I go outside and sit on a bench and the cramps are so bad, but I am not sure if I need to shit or what, ‘could it just be the altitude’ I am thinking.

I finally rush back into the bathroom, and my friend is laughing at me. I paint the toilet again. ‘man wtf’!! I am thinking.

I decide its just me and can’t be the water, because my friend is having no symptoms whatsoever.

We decide to ride down and call it a day. However on our way down on the trail my tire pops, so we hike out onto a fire trail and begin fixing my tire. All is good… we get it fixed and start riding down the fire trail where it lets us out a couple miles below my car.

So we start riding up a steep grade to get back to our vehicle. It was right then that the rumble started happening again.

This time the cramps and pain became so exquisitely intense I got desperate. I looked around at the wilderness ‘hell I could just go run and hide behind the rocks up there and shit behind those rocks’ I can’t hold it anymore, I decide on it.

I look at my friend. “Dude it’s happening again. I can’t hold it any longer. ”

The cramps were so intense. It was like God himself was wringing out my intestines.

“I have to shit over there I can’t hold it.”

Then the voice of reason from my friend spoke.

“NO man we can make it! We are almost there, there is a porta potty in the parking lot I saw it. ”

“Dude its like a mile away!”

“We can do it cmon just hold it.”

I feel renewed with vigor to endure this pain at all costs, I really didn’t want to shit on the side of the road.

That was the most grueling hot painful mile I had experienced to date.

The last part through the parking lot I actually carried my mountain bike over my head clenching my butt cheeks together to climb up a hill to the porta potty.

I flung that door open as quick as possible threw my pants down and let the cannon rip.

I farted so loud and violently and Hershey squirts shot out with a plummeting hollowness.

After that I was fine.

Originally posted 2011-08-24 14:11:17.


The Drummer Wall Shit

Tuesday, 26 August 2014

So, I am a full grown man.

I have a drumset that I keep in a storage unit, so as not to bother my old lady or the neighbors, that I play about once a week.

Well, I had just gone to get some delicious buffalo wings with my wife and ate about 50, along with several beers, when I got the bright idea to go rock out at the storage unit… with no bathrooms. I began to play for about fifteen minutes when I felt the faintest rumble that I usually associate with a little gas. You see, I also like to swallow air and fart it out, just to piss off my wife… so I was quite familiar with this sensation and thought nothing of it. As I continued to play, though, my stomach began to feel heavier and heavier and I knew I was in for some trouble. I thought I had enough time to leisurely collect my things and take them out to the truck. And then it hit me like a freight train. Sudden, gurgling cramps shot pain throughout my midsection and I double over on my stool trying to will my asshole to stay shut. I had been in similar situations before, so I knew I had to take immediate action in order to avoid shitting myself right there. I quickly squea! ked out a few greasy farts to make room in my guts and allow me to walk (still doubled over). I quickly decided that squatting behind the building was the only safe bet because every other square inch of the place had video cameras. I started to waddle out, butt cheeks clenched when I realized I had two obstacles: 1. How could I close and lock the storage without relaxing my butthole? We all know that if you give it any room to maneuver, it will open like the floodgates! 2. What the fuck was I going to wipe with? There was no paper, trees, leaves, grass or anything around!

Well, I said “To hell with the drums!” and continued my waddle to sweet poopy freedom around back. As luck would have it, I came upon an old sock someone must have left there. It was a wool sock that one would wear hiking or an old man would wear with their Berkenstocks. As I finally got to pull down my pants, I could that “grease” from the farts and knew it was no grease at all. Sure enough, There were my shit stained boxers (Calvin Klein, too). But alas, nothing matter as I finally got to relax my anus and spray gravy all over the side of the building and into the grass. The smell was simply unbearable and it formed a little puddle between my ankles (I was careful to keep my shorts from dipping in it). I wiped with the sock and used a pocketknife to cut my boxers off, vowing that no one would ever know about this.

After I also gave the wall a courtesy wipe I began to walk back around to the dumpster and then I saw it: a camera pointed right at the corner of the build. Luckily, it didn’t see me shit, but it would be too hard for them to put two and two together. I disposed of the soiled clothes in the dumpster and proceeded to go play drums for another hour. After all, after I got out all the goo, my body felt fine and I saw no reason not to. Also, it’s fair to say that the wings scorched my asshole pretty good, too. So, far I haven’t received any calls or notices from the facility so they either don’t care, didn’t see it, or are in the process of putting it on YouTube.

Originally posted 2011-08-23 22:29:00.


A crappy day complete with cops

Monday, 25 August 2014

I’m one of those people that will not under any circumstances poop in a public toilet. I just cant do it! I’m to ashamed! been that way all my life! well i woke up with a hangover from the night before as me and my girlfriends threw a wicked party. when i woke up, i had just enough time to get ready for work and had to take a wicked crap! no time to take it go figure! so i just got up, got dressed, got out! I’m a waitress at a local restaurant and the dress code is casual. white shorts, Big mistake later! so i made it to work 1 minute early so i wasn’t late. my shift was 6 hours long and as i was waiting on my tables, i was in pain the whole time because i thought as the day went on, id be alright. so im sweating, clinching my cheeks as im taking care of my guest. when i was 4 hours into my shift, lunc! h break. i started to not eat but since i haven’t eaten all day, that would just not be logical. so i ordered me a double bacon cheeseburger and some fries. well needless to say that just made my cramping worse! and I know the logical thing for me to have done was just got the bathroom and be done with it! unfortunately im just to embarrassed too! and i dont understand why. when their was just five minutes left in my break, im in the emp break room with 2 guys and 1 other girl. Thats when i felt the need to start passing gas. i figured maybe that will relieve some of my pain. so i proceed to let it out quietly. one section, silent. next section, not a sound. third section,,, well everyone heard it! so everyone looks at me, turn red began to cry and im like “im sorry y’all! please excuse me!” one of the guys was like “dont worry. it happens. you will be alright!” so i go back to work and struggle through the last two hours of my shift. when it was quittin! g time, i did not Waite! I ran for my car! didnt say bye to an! yone lik e i normally do! now one stipulation with our dress code does require shirts tucked in. since the shirt i had on was almost long enough to reach the end of my shorts, i really should’ve untucked it before i got in my car! because i had to go so bad, i was driving kinda fast. right when im only one block away from home, thats when i cop comes out of nowhere and lights me up! Its like im so close but yet so far away! so i pulled over and when he wanted to know why i was going so fast, I was too embarrassed to tell him why. so i just “I have no excuse! I’ll accept that citation!” when he asked for my license, uh oh! it was in my purse which was in the trunk of my car meaning I would have to get up and at this point, i had to poop so bad that me sitting here was the only thing keeping my poop in! but i didnt wanna make things worse so i just got up and walked stiffly to the trunk to give him my license! right when i gave it to him, i proceed to walk back to my car and ! he’s like “oh no just stay right their.ur alright right their.” noooo!!! i guess so he can check me out since I am a pretty looking girl! so as im standing their pressing my butt against the rear finder of my car just trying not to unload. so after five minutes of this, he comes back with his notebook and was like “ok come see please.” still in pain, i approach him slowly. he begins to explain that i am getting a citation for speeding. ive been in this type of pain before but this was out of control. right when he asked me to sign my citation, i reach to grab the pen and that was the nail in my coffin. beyond my control, I could just feel a freight train run through my intestines as it derailed off its tracks and into my white jean like shorts! it made a noise for the officer to hear it and gave off a deathly oder. He knew wat happened right away! so after i sign my ticket, i walked off so embarrassed i wished I was dead. as i proceeded to go back to my! car, he saw the brown blotch on my shorts and was like “! ma’am! c ome see again please!” then i began crying uncontrollably and turn around. he asked “its no secret now. Is this the reason for your speed?” I said “ok! you got me! It is! I was just to embarrassed to say anything to you!” so he asked for my ticket and just tore it up and said “go ahead! This will be between me and you! I hope your day gets better.” still crying “thank you!” i said back. when I got back into my car, i didn’t wanna sit down because one it would feel nasty and two it will seep into my car seat. so i drove the one block home braced up. as I pulled into the driveway, i ran from my car and into my house ignoring my neighbor who sad “hi”. how i made it from my car to the bathroom without a log falling out of my shorts and streaking down my leg and splatting the floor, totally amazing! cleaning up took 2 hrs! I was able to keep my shorts after washing them in bleach and oxy clean and have worn them to work a few! times since (just more wise about it). but my panties, i didn’t feel like dealing with them! from now on, Im making time to poop. if im late for work, oh well!

Originally posted 2011-08-22 13:38:00.


One time at Band Camp…..(no joke)

Sunday, 24 August 2014

 This one time at band camp (no joke) I was performing in front of thousands of people at the end of the summer. We were just finishing our intro when I felt a sudden urge to release hot stream of brown lava in my pants as I was playing my tuba. It was our biggest performance so I couldn’t leave in the middle of it. We finished one song but the cramps were getting worse. Our instructor said I couldn’t go and I had to wait for the end of the performance. I told him to screw it because I couldn’t hold it any longer. Shit was already slowly coming out of my ass. There weren’t any bathrooms for about 15 minutes. All I could think of was to shit in the tuba. I ran behind the bleachers and I exploded inside the trusted tuba. I ruined my hot pink thong but that was the least of my worries. I didn’t know how to empty it so I tried to blow in it would come out but it didn’t. So I asked my instructor to check if he could get it to work and i lied and said it was stuck because i accidentally dropped my gum in it. He blew in it and the creamy shit flew all over the front row of the audience.

Originally posted 2011-08-22 23:44:24.


Formerly known as the Shameful Shitter

Saturday, 23 August 2014

I’ll start this off with a little background info on myself. I was at one point in my life a shameful-shitter. If I thought anyone was within earshot of my possible butt blasts, my cornhole would lock up tighter than Alcatraz.

Now, here I was on a 4 day weekend trip with my girlfriend and her family. We all shared one small hotel room the entire time. The bathroom was conveniently located right next to, well basically the entire room. The walls were paper thin and if you made the slightest anal exclamation, it was known to all.

On our first day there we went to a Chicago Fire and Columbus Crew soccer match. Needless to say the bathrooms there were packed and unusable for me. I had eaten the wonderful delicacies offered at sports stadiums and needed to poo as soon as we got back to the hotel. However, it was not to be.

I sit down on the pot and I can hear my girlfriend, her mom, her dad and brothers and sisters all having a conversation right in front of the bathroom door. My butthole was shut tight and refused to let anything out. After a few minutes I gave up on it left the bathroom extremely unsatisfied.

During our entire vacation I believe we visited the busiest places on earth. Because there was not a single deserted bathroom in any building we went to. My lower intestines were rumbling constantly by the last day and I knew bad things were about to happen.

We are driving back to the hotel room on our last night there and a chain of events took place that forever changed me in the eyes of my girlfriends family. With about a 30 minute drive to look forward to my gut starts to cramp up extremely painfully. It wasn’t the normal feeling of the bomb-bay doors needed opened. No. This felt like someone had inflated a weather balloon in my colon.

As we were driving along the most horrible, wretched, lingering farts began to seep out of my behind. Luckily, the had brought the small family dog on this trip and the smell was blamed on her.

About 10 minutes from the hotel I broke out in a cold sweat. Since the dog was being blamed for my horrendous farts I thought about just really letting a few big ones go to relieve some pressure but thought it to be a bad idea because I didn’t want to shit my pants.

With the gut busting amount of poo riding along in side of me, these last 10 minutes to the hotel were the longest 10 minutes of my life.

We park and then walk up to the room. I would have run ahead but, I had to use all of my mental concentration to clamp my buttcheeks closed. I just didn’t have the mental capacity to coordinate running and clenching. So I waddled along with everyone.

As soon as we got to the room I went straight to the bathroom. I pulled down my pants and not 2 seconds after I sat down I let out the most cacophonous sound my ass had ever made. It sounded like wood going through a chipper and the chips being sprayed into a lake. This initial statement silenced all conversation taking place within our room and probably all surrounding rooms as well.

This was only the beginning though. After the first wave of liquid evacuated my bowels, a second wave of about a thousand pea sized morsels fired at high speed from my arse. Between each pellet a loud crack sounding about like the exhaust from an automatic rifle erupted from within me. These first two events left me mentally scarred for life because words CAN NOT describe what this felt/sounded/smelled like.

After a few more audible events I was finished and the toilet was all but ruined for whoever needed it next. This mess took about 4 flushes to get down but it finally left this world.

I walked out of the bathroom to a completely silent and stunned room. Not a single person would look me in the eye. I know the entire room had to smell like my shit. I feel sorry for the people I had to bring along with me for that experience but I can now say I am a much less shameful shitter.

Originally posted 2011-08-21 17:34:00.