You’re at work and that familiar feeling hits. Your bowels say, “Hey dude, it’s time for a little date with the toilet. Let’s go. NOW.” and you’re filled with a sense of dread. You’ve probably got 1 of 2 crappy scenarios:
#1: The single bathroom.
This is the worst. You go in, you try to get to business and inevitably, someone’s gonna come knock knocking on the door. Which sucks because for some reason, your butt hears the knock and gets stage fright. Your butt’s like, “Dammit! Go away! I need to be alone with this toilet. Aghh!” And your #2 is henceforth ruined because you know you’re gonna walk out and your co-worker’s gonna go in and flap their hand in front of their face and say something douchey like, “Oh man! Somebody took a dump-a-rooni!” or else you just know they’re gonna walk in and know that you POOPED and judge you. And you’re mortified. Worst case scenario is when you walk out and that hot chick/dude you have your eye on is waiting. You want to die.
#2: The multiple stall bathroom:
This is almost as bad as the single bathroom because you run into a stall and some jackass always comes in and gets in the stall right next to you. And you’re like, “Oh dear gawd, I hope they don’t realize I’m POOPING! Omfg.” And you cough or blow your nose and frantically pull toilet paper off the roll and create a little poop nest in the toilet because GOD FORBID Sally or John or whoever hears your little turds hit the water. And the before-mentioned butt stage fright hits too. You’re like, “Alright, hurry up dude, so I can finish pooping in peace. Please leave soon. Omfg.” At my work, they have cans of Lysol in each stall so if you poo, you can spray a little lemon-scented chemicals around but I don’t use it because it’s like announcing to the whole bathroom, “Hey everybody, I just took a shit! And I want the bathroom to smell like lemons mixed with shit!” which is just stupid. You gotta just walk out and if anyone makes eye contact, say something like, “Oh man! Somebody took a dump-a-rooni!” and laugh and walk out. And you want to die.
So yeah, pooping at work is pretty traumatic. Or maybe that’s just me. What do y’all think? Anybody have any horror stories?
Photo from Flickr.
Related posts:
- Not Pooping At All
- cVillain’s Top 10 Most Read Posts of 2008: Photographers, Pooping and Models, Oh My
- Getting To Work A La Kerouac
not really horror, but my button popped off my fly today in the bathroom whilst I was de-panting. It’s in my pocket now, and not doing a very good job of keeping up my shorts. I hope I remember to change before Friday’s After Five, which, if not, COULD lead to a traumatic horror story…
/yah nay nay!
does THIS add any possible horror scenarios?
I hate the multiple bathrooms b/c I don’t what to expose others to dueceair, nor do I want to be exposed to theirs. The WORST WORST is a 2 stall bathroom, b/c folks can still come in, but then it is much more, how do I say, intimate.
I’ll take a single any damn day.
dueceair = deuce air.
dueceair turned up no google, google image, or google news results.
2: There’s an awfully good Bangkok joke in there somewhere.
But single bathrooms are the grossest becuase when you go in and it smells like poo, that means tiny molecules of poo are like wafting up into your nose. You’ve got someone’s elses poo in your nose. OMFG! EWWWW!!!!
6: Or, even worse, you smell it and the toilet seat is still warm.
*shudder*
There are two restrooms where I work, one upstairs and one downstairs. Both are unisex. I usually try to hold it till the end of service, when most “guest” are gone. I go upstairs, less people. Plus everyone else is downstairs finishing side work. I use to work with all girls, which made it more difficult to be comfortable.
Never forget a book of matches!
@6, wait! Poo in your nose is bad? I’m not going to not go down to the urgentcare asap.
@6…I couldn’t help but be remembered of this Happy Slip vlog video where she talks about poo molecules, and how her mom tries to avoid them, watch it:
which is worse pooping at work or at a bar?
/i don’t poop.
Far more anonymity at a bar. And can someone please design a stall where the door and wall go all the way to the ground? I’ve only got so many shoes, and I much prefer my heat spikes to be anonymous.
truck stop
I work with someone that only poops at home. She has left work early because she had to poo but couldn’t at work…what_evah!
@8: AND now we know you work at Bang. Haha!
27 hr train ride in China. That is all of y’alls worst nightmare. Ever. Period. Your body just knows danger is ahead and puckers up, its awful.
@9: We used to have a server at Oxo that would run out of the bathroom screaming if you so much as even farted.
Im pretty sure only Lys as eating where I work
I work with someone that doesn’t poop at work. She will leave work to run home to poop if the need arises.
OHHHH. Worst place ever! On a nice bus, when you are on a field trip for school. Right? anyone?
@11: The bar has definitey got to be worse because there’s ALWAYS somebody waiting for your stall. I had to drop a sudden bomb at SS on Tuesday and I felt really bad for the chick going in after me.I made a joke like, “Wow, smells like shit ni here, huh?” and hightailed it.
@21: I had such anxiety in college about it, I would leave my dorm and go to this dorm across campus that had a handicapped single on its ground floor that nobody ever used. It was fantastic.
http://digg.com/comedy/Pooping_at_Work
DIGG THIS!
@23 exactly!
@21 that would be me.
/great post shen! I can’
I’m not finished…..
/great post shen! I can’t make out with you now without thinking of you pooping.
nono, *I’ve* got the worst work bathroom:
1) It’s got a gym in it. Not kidding, a friggin’ workout center
2) On the other side of the pooper’s from the gym are two showers. Yeah, we get poop *and* mildew smells
3) We share the bathroom with the JADE guys – the “Jefferson Area Drug Enforcement” guys so not *only* can’t we fire up some doobage in the bathroom, we routinely get to stand at the urinal next to someone in handcuffs, hobbles and orange jumpsuits.
“dude! I’m *not* a cop. Don’t shoot me – I really *am* just trying to score some weed…”
@27: Sweetie darling, hot chicks have to poop too.
this would have been a much better topic if atomic burrito was still around.
@30: I know, I know, I need to go to poop therapy. Need to accept it and give up the toilet paper nest. One day I will hopefully be able to bounce out of the stall and pump my fist in the air and yell, “That was ME!” at the next chick coming in the bathroom.
Anyone else have a ziplock fulla baby wipes at their desk? Lifesavers.
From the other side of the equation, my job the summer after my first year of college was cleaning bathrooms in an office building in midtown Manhattan. To answer the obvious question, I was a vacation/sick leave fill-in for union custodians, i.e. big bucks. Some of the stuff I saw that summer, especially in women’s bathrooms, still gives me nightmares. I mean, this was an office environment, but you would go into these rooms sometimes and there would be pee and poop EVERYWHERE. On the floor, on the walls. And the less said about, ahem, women’s hygiene products, the better.
/still causes a convulsive shudder
He’s single ladies. Jump on it.
36 was @ 34. Thanks for ruining it KCB.
@35: But really! How do you get poop on the walls????!!!!
Tuffy. No.
/kinda creeped out
wow…the illusion is shattered. i thought girls didn’t poop? oh well.
/proud work-place pooper.
@36 – No worries shen. I’ve washed my hands at least twice since then, so I’m good to go. How YOU doin?
@37: LMAO
@39: Show us where on the doll the baby wipes touched you.
You’re killing me Smalls! Guys, you’re missing the balloon knot boat. So fresh and so clean clean. I’m telling you. They’ve started selling them in much less conspicuous boxes.
In addish, a semi-lurker semi-writer friend trapped under the confines of work-based internet monitoring has brought the following very clever 2-based post to my attention. This is a way to move the conversation into the out of doors.
@36 – thanks Shen.
Laaaadies?
I was told by a friend that wiping with snow was the best thing ever. I tried it… and it is.
@45: WHAT?!
45: You must endure a long, smelly summer.
@47: snow cones. ’nuff said. A bit gritter, but I’d guess it’d get the job done.
Chocolate snow cones … some stay dry and others feel the pain …
@48: Ugh. You had to go there didn’tcha?
nay nay must be so proud of the conversation her post spawned…
/is gellato just as good Tuffy?
I suppose snow cones would work…in a pinch.
/ew ew ew ew ew
or, you could just get one of THESE, but it’d probably take it a while to get you fully cleansed…
@51: It’s getting a post a minute. Not bad. People like to talk about poop apparently.
@51 – granita siciliana if you’re really in a pinch.
My baby wipes are looking pretty good by comparison, aren’t they now?
Tuffy. No.
/still creeped out
And what’s with turning around to check out the product? It’s like you know you shouldn’t but you can’t stop yourself. It’s like instinct or something.
I don’t know what this shy pooping thing is all about.
When the need hits, it hits. I hitch up my britches, and do that wide-stanced waddle towards the men’s room. A nod here and there to my fellow co-workers, perhaps a quiet comment to the effect of “Man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do…” on the way, to warn others who are even thinking of following you.
A quick inspection of the toilet seat, a quick swipe to remove any standing liquids, then plop right on the seat. None of this “hovering” sissiness. Sometimes you might have to stomp your feet or bang on the stall walls a bit to get in the proper mood. Then comes the determined grunt as you force all the contents of your colon into the bowl in one massive, manly movment, followed by a shout of victory. Wiping is a standing up affair, if you really want to get clean, then comes the post-pooping examination, just to make sure nothing “unexpected” has shown up.
Washing up afterwards is to be done with lots of lathered soap, and a satisfied air. Then upon exit from the restroom, if you see anyone even thinking about entering, a direct gaze and a curt, “I wouldn’t.” is usually all it takes to save them from a potentially horrifying encounter with the potent remainders of your visit to the bathroom.
Whoa. I commented on a future comment. Whoa.
@58: Not fair. Why do guys get to act all proud?
I tell you, I’ve got a daily ’spraypainter’ here at work. You know what I mean. It’s gross. I’ve got it narrowed down to 1 of 2 people, but I can’t figure out how one gets it onto the back of the toilet seat!
A nod here and there to my fellow co-workers, perhaps a quiet comment to the effect of “Man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do…” on the way, to warn others who are even thinking of following you.
I accomplish the same thing with a rolled up copy of the CVille or Hook…
Crappy post, by the way, shen. Without a doubt, your crappiest post ever.
/in a good way!
//I guess.
@60: Dude is probably using one of those ridiculous squat positions.
@61: To wipe your ass with?
@63: Thanks!
@60: Yet another analysis is in order
this post brought back child-hood trauma. My aunt was an RN, the head RN for Pulaski Hospital. Nothing phased her.
Once, when visiting her, I had to, as Aunt Ellen would say, ‘move my bowels’. I went in and proceeded to go about my business when Aunt Ellen decided she wanted to talk about something, so she joined me in the bathroom, and sat on the edge of the tub 2 feet in front of me.
I’ve been a bit anal about door locks in bathrooms since then…
I just found a “Survival Guide for pooping at work”. Hilarious
@63 – no, I roll up the newspaper and hit my coworkers over the head with it while screaming “I’M GOING TO DROP THE KIDS OFF AT THE POOL, KNOWWHATIMEAN?”
/”pinching a loaf” or “laying cable” also works
Ahahaha, that is hilarious. But the Courtesy Flush is dumb. It just tells everyone els ein the bathroom, “I’m pooping over here and trying to hide it”…
67: “Taking the Browns to the Super Bowl” is my personal fave.
@65: 34 years old does not count as “childhood” this day & age.
I work with all guys, and one of them habitually stands up and announces “The turtles head is touching cloth… I’m off to the cludgy” and walks off farting like a duck being strangled with a length of greasy rope while all the others cheer and clap.
/pure class
@67: LOL. There was this awesome SNL skit where Justin Timberlake was playing Jessica Simpson and he goes, “I’m gonna go drop the kids off at the pool now. And by pool I mean TOILET and by kids I mean POOP. Heehee.”
@71: Aghh! That’s so gross!
@58, gross josh. and you know you don’t wash your hands after. Take a poll Thor, how many men wash their hands after they poop?
found a Listypoo for euphemisms specific to this thread.
Not a great list, but given where it’s hosted it’s pure comedic gold…
oops, horked that link…
linkypoo – 2nd try
Backing out the brown volvo
classic cvillain
Speak to a man about a horse? I don’t get it.
@74, people leaving the baffroom without washing up is 100x grosser to me than the remnants of the actual deposits. I’d put the no wash percentage at ~8%. Hopefully a poll will find the same low number.
For #1’s I’d say it’s more like 35% that DO wash up.
ask, and the Internet shall provide – linkypoo
All Hail The Internets!
echo you son-of-a-beach, you begged for this post and not even a single comment. Are you actually working or something?
Joke>>>>
Girl smuggles this guy into her room, and in the middle of the night he gets up and whispers in the dark that he needs to go to the bathroom. Girl says he can’t because her parents might wake up and she will be in big trouble. She says to him ” There’s a little sink in the corner over by the door, you can use that. “Are you sure?” he says and she confirms it’s fine. Two minutes later he says “Christ that’s better…have you got some paper please?”
When I’m at home, I like to weigh myself before and after taking the browns to the super bowl. Wow! I just lost 5 lbs. by pooping!
5lbs? Damn, you might want to cut back on the meat intake
/never thought I’d say that…
Pope. Amazing. I thought I was alone. GBless ya.
Maybe my favorite post ever, as you (read: I) just can’t have this conversation in person.
My only addition – try pooping at work while pregnant (or ever while pregnant while we’re on the subject)! It’s like constipation central and I can’t get out of a stall in under ten minutes these days, so not only am I completely mortified, I’m usually pretty damn defeated, too. I think I miss my “daily routine” than I do alcohol… I now understand the goofy, stoned-like smiles you see whenever there’s a testimonial-style commercial for fiber supplements on TV.
Worst ever poop situation – when forced to share a hotel room with a coworker. On the rare occasion this inconvenience was forced upon me, I would use the lobby restroom when the urge arrived. Needless to say my roommate wasn’t so considerate.
Last comment – as a joke someone gave my husband the book What’s Your Poo Telling You, and it is both hillarious and kinda informative. Sure beats leaving magazines in the guest bathroom.
Maybe my favorite post ever
For me, it’s clearly #2.
stanley wins teh internets!
Shen, in all the funny, did you realize how topical this was? I just learned this on NPR.
There is not enough alcohol in the world to fill the gaping hole that is my soul.
Should be an interesting weekend. See ya on the dancefloor!
/don’t cry, emo kid.
@6: Farticles
was gonna say, ‘it’s just you’, but 90 posts later apparently “it’s all y’all”.
@82: You may never see this, but yes, I was actually working. I got halfway through your story and the 2 owners of my company walked into my office. I managed to lie about why I was laughing. I didn’t get back to the internets until after 5. Good party tonight. See you at X tomorrow!
if there’s only one bathroom and your morning pee timing is always thirty seconds behind your coworker with the bad bean/tequilaI habit (I know liquor shits dammit), you’re screwed… it lingers for a good hour and a half with no windows.
Is this scatological humor? How would a scat singer respond to this post?
/nevermind, I don’t want to know.
wow, I leave for a few days and shen writes a post about shit.
/stay classy, cvillain.
The worst is pooping in boot camp. Everyone is so freaked, no one craps for ten days. Then everyone gets stuck in the bathroom all at once. After you’ve had someone screaming at you right outside the stall door, complaining about the time, the smell, your habits-while you take a huge loose shit that sounds like a covy of quail taking off and where you’re wiping forever, you can go just about anywhere anytime the urge strikes you. That kind of intestinal fortitude is your tax dollars at work.
come on Shen, why didn’t you use a LOCAL picture? don’t you have a digital camera to take your own LOCAL poop-related pictures that are relevant to the post? jeez, getting pictures from flickr is sooooooooooooooooo lame.
i would like someone to explain to me why they swaddle the entire seat in toilet paper AND THEN LEAVE IT THERE. why do you think is following you around cleaning up after you?
swaddle the entire seat in toilet paper
Actually, this is a tradition dating back to the first Christmas, when Joseph in Mary wrapped their Bethlehem outhouse in swaddling clothes, in order to facilitate the wise men’s dropping of “wisdom” as it was called back then. Stop being so insensitive to other cultures and peoples of faith, orchid.
/next up, I’ll show you where myrrh comes from.
Joseph
inand Mary(whoops)
That was a sacrilegious Freudian slip Stan… expect to be simultaneously struck by a celestial lightning bolt whilst being accused of being sexually attracted to camels.
/one hump or two?
Man, great topic. As my wife can attest to, there’s nothing I enjoy more than talking about poop. I am possibly the greatest pooper of all time. I’ve got my rutine down so that instead of taking 1 or two long poops, i take 4-5 short poops a day. I’m in and out in less time that it takes me to piss, sometimes.
The best place to poop in peace is at a bar, where there’s already a line and it’s a single shitter situation. The person behind you knows you’re in there, casue they watched you walk in. Also, when you come out, you can blame it on the guy before you. This is exactly why I trained myself to quick poop.
@61 It had to be said.
@104 Four to Five short poops? I don’t think that’s such a good thing.
I am so flattered that everyone likes my shitty post.
@99: Francesco put that pic up not me dude
We call the bathroom at my workplace “Nuke-Em Hall”. Ladies and gentleman, we now have liftoff was once heard from someone on the toilet.
I haven’t read the whole thing, but NewmaN’s new story talks about pooping in the woods.
POP QUIZ: Which of these is the least earth friendly…
a)pooping in the woods
b)drinking bottled water
c)driving an SUV
d)eating meat
I know, I know…D!
Actually, it’s A.
Really?! I’ll have to find a new place to poop at work.
@ 110 and 112
So by that logic, bears are the least earth friendly of all creation?
Whodathunkit.
@114: I think it’s a human poop thing, but I don’t really know all the dirty details. Somebody dorky go do some research.
sweet had funny poop stories. hey sweet, some share your India story.
I have the most epic poop story of all time, involving 2 gallons of water, a double dose of a very powerful diarrhetic, and both a doctors physical examination AND an audition for a tv commercial at a tony sf casting studio.
but i dont have time to type it, danpri will get me fired.
@117: If it’s too graphic, I might get sick and then danpri would get me fired too.
Not graphic, just unfortunate. Wait a minute tender vittles, you STARTED a thread about poop and now you’re warning people off?
110 – so I’m guessing it’s very environmentally unfriendly to be driving a bottled water powered SUV through the woods while eating, uhm, nevermind…
Oh no, be as graphic as you please, but shen started the poop thread.
what in god’s name do you have to eat in order to poop thread?
Speaking of butts at work, I once worked at this restaurant in F’burg where all the male waiters constantly joked about farting. If they had a table of campers or just plain annoying customers, they would say, “I’m gonna go cropdust that one.” I asked them what cropdust meant and it means to walk around the table silently farting on the customers. Boys are gross.
Pooping is awesome! Sometimes, I’m so proud of my poops, that I’ll showcase ‘em for my wife to find. She loves that.
/My kids will be a mess.
@122: Thread
so, if I swallow half a spool of thread and wait a day or so, I can tie it off and make a lovely carrying handle so you guys can drag me home when I passout at the bar.
Very well then. I will type into text and then cut and paste (so to speak). Back in a few.
123 – it’s not just the guys who can be gross – SFW linkypoo
/has just found the future ex-Mrs. Oy
@128: The woman at the very end says “I’d like to see her try that on a didgeridoo.” Oh foreign television…
ooh – never mind – THIS is my future wife.
I’m in love. Not only beautiful but talented.
@ 128: Thanks Oy. Here’s some French-Canadian by way of the USofA SFW poo right back at ‘cha.
@128: Ew. Just ew.
@131: Oy Im’ed me that earlier this afternoon. That is 100% CRAP.
it’s the new RickRoll…
On the Importance of Effective Scheduling – A Cautionary Tale.
There are three things you need to know for this story. Seventeen years ago I: a) was desperate for work, b) smoked a LOT of weed and c) bore a truly striking resemblance to the anglo-saxon version of Jesus Christ. That said…
I had been working a temp job in the design shop at the SF Newspaper for six months. This made me uncomfortable as it was a union shop, and the whole thing made me feel scabby. I was eventually offered the position for real, which made me ecstatic but with one caveat. I had to take a drug test. And given my waist length hair, beard and generally funky clothing, I knew that my little cup o’ urine was probably going to be scrutinized with an atomic microscope. This was a dream job, and I wanted it bad, but I only had two weeks to prepare. I immediately made the H in THC stand for “holiday”, but I knew that it can linger in the system or much longer than two weeks. Panic lead to research and I finally decided on a product called “NaturalClean” to hedge my bets prior to the test. This was basically a tea made of diarrhetic herbs that one drank with one gallon of water prior to the test, the thought being that by the time came to fill the cup, you’d be peeing straight water. A little vitamin B to get your yellow coloring and you are good to go. Ah but did I mention this was a dream job, health bennies, fat salary, labor contract… the works. I was going to take no chances. I was going to double everything it said on the box. But lets back up for a few, shall we?
In my nonstop quest for cash in those days, I took a lot of odd jobs (cake decorator, museum docent, bike messenger). One of the most odd was going to auditions for commercials and doing extra work for tv shows. A very close friend of mine was the “main man” at a talent agency, and he had me take a bunch of head shots and would send me off to any type cast audition that called for “hippy”, “jesus”, “surfer dude” etc. All you needed was to bag one commercial and it would cake city for a while. I had a bike messenger friend that ended up being the voice of “the green chevron car” and made $82,000 for reading four sentences! Damn right I would at least try! AAs it turns out, there was a casting call for a “surfer dude” for a VW commercial about the same time as my physical for the day job. How perfect, I thought. I am sure you can see how imperfect my thinking would turn out to be.
Ah so its the morning of my big day, and I am busy drinking huge amounts of this bitter tea, and chugging dihydrogen monoxide like there is no tomorrow. I am feeling nothing, but I have faith and set off to the doctor’s office. It was about the time I was pulling in to the doctor’s parking lot that things started to feel, well, not quite right. Now I hadn’t had a physical in over a decade at that point, owing to my lack of health insurance and desire to just not know. I had quite forgotten the old routine that we all know so well. I sat in the waiting room, and had to request the pee cup for it could not wait. I could have easily filled ninety of those little plastic bastards, as I had turned into some sort of fountain. I eventually stopped, and was ushered into “the little room”. A kindly nurse measured my vitals and chatted with me, and when she was about done, I must say I thought myself pretty smooth. I thought I was done. Then she said the words that started everything going very very wrong. “Strip down to your underwear, the doctor will be in shortly.”
Oof! I had forgotten this part of a physical, and in fact had also forgotten to wear underwear. Well, not so much forgotten as simply didn’t. After a brief panic, I rationalized. He’s a doctor. He’s seen it all before. Not everybody wears underwear. No biggy. So I stripped down to my birthday suit and waited, all the while being acutely aware of the sensation of my bladder filling up again like a sink basin. And finally he came in, and elderly chinese doctor, whose startled expression to see me sitting there in the altogether is one I will not soon forget. Then: awkward silence. I have had some awkward silences in my day, but this one is definitely in the top ten. He then said, handing me a small medical napkin “Here. Cover yourself with this. You will feel more comfortable.” As I sat there, rather not unlike some sort of Adam, holding this small napkin over my genitals as he proceeded to check my ears, I have to say I rather disagreed with him on the more comfortable part. But hey, his office, his rules. “Relax and breath” he would say. Oh Im breathing alright, but relax? All thats holding back the equivalent of the rupture of the hoover damn is my superhuman will, and this little napkin. It is quite easy to conceal the urgent need to pee when one is out in public fully clothed. It is quite another to do so when one is stark naked and being thoroughly examined. I made it out, but just barely.
But, you say, I thought this was a story about poop, not pee? Unfortunately, it is, as you will soon see.
My next stop on this harrowing afternoon of humility, was the VW audition, which was a mere three block away in downtown SF. First I suppose, I should describe my outfit. I was applying for ’surfer dude’, so I had worn some wide wale baggy light blue quicksilver cords, sandals and an over sized tropical rayon shirt, or as I came to call it later, “my lifesaver”. Next I suppose I should describe the office I went into. It was rather like the set of melrose place, everyone in armani, lots of chrome, fussy little eyeglasses, exposed brick lots of glass. Very very chic. And so, the stage is set.
The way these auditions usually work is you check in at a desk, they snap a polaroid head shot of you, hand you a clipboard and you answer the questions on a sheet of paper while you wait for your turn to be called to come in and read. Well I had a question of my own that needed to be answered first, namely can I use your restroom. They snapped my head shot first, and I noticed that I was not in fact, looking very casual and surfer dude-y. I was looking rather pinched up and in pain. In hindsight, I should have run then, but I was sure my performance at the doctor’s would somehow preclude me from my desired position, and the possibility of cash with an easy gig was to great. I went to the restroom and peed roughly ninety gallons of urine, flushing several times. Casual indeed.
I felt very unwell, possibly feverish, and certainly unsettled in the digestion department, but I had passed the test of wills at the doctor’s and I would pass this one too. Unfortunately, that was not all I was about to pass. I sat down and began to fill out my form, hunched over, my own pinched up little face staring at me from the clip board. As I was filling out the very last line, I leaned back, crossed my legs and tragedy struck. I had no control. A jet of water shot from my distressed anus, saturating my light blue cords with a significant streak.
This posed a rather severe dilemma, given my current environment, and emergency planning was necessary. Although my ego was completely disintegrating, my mind was sharp. I stood slowly, and pulled my shirt down. I held the clip board at arm’s length behind me with both hands, as if that is how everyone might carry a clip board. I then took a rather circuitous route back to the bathroom, allowing none of the image makers present to get behind me. I made it. I made it to the bathroom/ Though my three flush trip not five minutes before must have made this trip at least somewhat curious, i had made to behind closed doors, to a safe place with plumbing! I would clean myself up as best I could and make a bee line straight out the motherfucking door and never look back. That was the plan anyway. I cleaned up, but it was still very evident that there had been some sort of accident. Whatever. I was outty!
So I leave the bathroom and I am three steps into my bee line when what do I hear? My name. It was my call. In these situations, one is more herded by marketing exec’s assistants than anything else, and so it came to pass that I was herded into yet another level of hell. This one looked like this a big, high ceiling office desks and chairs all facing in one direction. And in that direction, one chair, with lights and cameras pointed at it. A phalanx of armani faced the chair as well, their easy smiles and ingratiating small talk mocking my ravaged digestive system, stained clothing and crumpled ego.
So I sat in the chair. The lights went on, the cameras were rolling and I as told that in this commercial, I am a surfer dude, sitting in his VW van at the beach, I hear a thump on the roof then the ground, I look out the window and see Joe Montana, to which I say “Whoah Dude!” or any other stoner surfer expression that one might use when pro footballers are falling on one’s car. Given my penchant for the surreal, AND my years of stoney observational expressions, I could have knocked this role out of the fucking park had I not been reduced to such a broken shell of a man. Had I not doubled that dosage, you would all be referring to me as Malibu, Yo and watching the movie “Yo & Kumar go to White Castle”. I could have been the next Spicoli, I am sure of it. But oh well, so it goes, eh?
I read the lines sounding like an uptight bastard. The Armani’s figured I was not the one. I did my vertical spider crawl against the wall out of the office, then out of the building. At least on the street, people would figure I was some homeless guy that shat himself, so I could relax a little.
So thats my poop story. Who’s got next?
Epilogue:
What? Oh yes. I went to a department store, bought a pair of pants, cleaned and changed in their bathroom, threw my old ones away. Huh? Yes, it took me 2.5 hours and about seventeen dollars to get home because of the prevalence of “Restrooms are for Customers Only” signs. What? Why yes, I did pass the pee test and got the job.
Another great b-yo story! This one might—just maybe—even beat out the bear story.
I forgot the perfect closing line:
Ah butt that was a long time ago, I’ve since gotten my shit together.
@135. What a story. Dude, that’s so rad!
dude you would’ve made a rad Spicoli.
what in god’s name do you have to eat in order to poop thread?
I’ve got your answer right here.
/you had to ask, didn’t you?
//yes, of course it’s NSFW
@136 i was reading yr story but then realizen too drunk to read. see my cmmrnt in FFA. i miss cville.
@135: That was awesome. I mean the story, not you shitting your pants.
@135: Great story. You shat your pants and then met Joe Montana. This might be my favorite thread EVAR.
My bf saw this post. Now he knows I poop. The honeymoon’s over y’all!
Why doesn’t Mr. ‘nanigans ever post?
His job keeps him extremely busy. He doesn’t even get lunch breaks sometimes. But he had enough time the other day to catch me going on about my butt. Magical.
What luck
back of toilet spray is caused by stupid stupid hovering women. Women’s bathrooms are and always have been nastier than men’s
http://www.reuters.com/article/oddlyEnoughNews/idUSL2629804320080627?feedType=RSS&feedName=oddlyEnoughNews
at least they don’t make you clock out when you go the shitter
Possibly the most immature site on the internet.
Shen, the girl’s dog was explosion shitting all night long. So she says. I’ve never heard of a dog that’s allergic to corn, but…there we go.
The dog is also allergic to the band Korn
Oops. I will never give dogs corn ever again.
This is too funny. I’d hate to see you guys in Russia, where you poop into a hole in the ground and pay $2 to do so and… use toilet paper that resembles the towels that you dry your hands off on in an American restaurant bathroom. Or how about pooping outside and you bring your own TP. Also common in Russia. Hey, we all poop, it’s just shit.
@ 153 are you familiar with the poop shelf?
in a sick way, i kind of miss russian toiletry. the porcelain here is too clean.
I fucking hate chicks that hover. Like their ass is god’s gift to mankind, with skin and flesh so clean that it could cure the sick. Wipe it off, and sit on the bitch.
So Anti-Freeze….big fan of Mother Theresa by the sounds of things.
/I was hoping for sooooo much more from you…. I really was dude.
Like their ass is god’s gift to mankind
Paging shenanners to the poop-thread courtesy phone. Paging shenanners…
Only douchebags hover. FFS, shit is about to come out of you. Your asscheeks are not too pure to touch the toilet seat. There are more germs on your hands.
@153 and that is why Russia is still a third world country.
@157 Sorry I failed. I’ll eat my wheaties tommorow.
@160 Ethan Russia has always been a/the 2nd world country. You could look it up but you can’t be 3rd world with nukes.
I forgive you AF… you are just trying to find your feet… be strong
I know that this response it very late but what is a poop shelf?
What, is google broken? Poop shelf here.
This seems an appropriate place to share…
Every now and again one is blessed enough to experience the perfect harmony of nature and physics. I am one of the very few to experience this w/ some frequency. As such, I feel compelled to share w/ those less fortunate.
I just took an exquisite sh*t that brought w/ it the perfection of timing. Read on, for it really is something to be revered.
Now the sh*t, in and of itself, was grand enough- a perfectly formed cannon-ball turd almost pumice like in consistency that actually leaves one feeling as though it left you cleaner. The thing, though, that makes it such a gratifying display of physics in action, is the absolutely perfect backsplash. Before the anus was able to snap shut, I felt the most refreshing dollop of cool water splash up into my ass. I daresay it was what b-ball enthusiasts would call a swoosh- I’m that certain it never even kissed the rim. Anyway, I can’t describe the feeling of satisfaction that left. Kink? I don’t think it was. Cleanliness? Oddly and as contradictory as it sounds, I suppose it was that type of a refreshing feeling. Still, I can’t quite capture the sentiment…you’d have to experience it. Lastly, the icing on the cake was seeing the sh*t ticket come away from my ass just as snow white as it was going in. Perfection…A to Z. Yes, I’ll bet you wish you were me.
So there you go…I’d say eat your fiber and shoot for that nice big turd so perfect in shape that it gives in return. It’s these simple pleasures in life that leave one in awe of the beauty and harmony of nature.
So now you no doubt understand why I felt compelled to share- it was incumbent upon me to do so.
TMIIIIII
I totally agree.
Still, it was just so wonderful and so much fun to write I just couldn’t keep it to myself. Thanks for the great thread to post it under though!
I’m glad you got to unload. Hahaha.
I work in a warehouse-esque building in Barracks Road, it has concrete floors, ugly decor and nothing impressive to speak of. We open up early, close late and get robbed too often.
Can you guess?
We have 2 bathrooms, for this department store-sized building and us employees share this with customers. A coworker of mine usually carries a few spray air fresheners with her as an unspoken comment of “don’t bother me for a while” she’ll smile at you as she closes the door and locks it.
Of course, these are the only bathrooms, and we’ve usually got a line of about 4. Back in our fitting room, where the smell drifts out and torture those who are innocently trying on potential purchases. It lingers like no other.
It gets so bad, that I usually opt not to eat during work so that I’d not have to poo. I’m usually the one to go in for #1 and have to clean up after various #2’s. It’s astounding the amount of disregard for the people that come after you that C’villians have.
have to clean up after various #2’s
What, are asses exploding?
Ew, I am thoroughly disgusted right now. I just went in the women’s restroom at my day job and as soon as I enter the 1st stall, I look at the seat and it is COVERED IN SHIT. OMG that is so fucking gross, I don’t care what the circumstance, there is no excuse for leaving shit all over the seat. How does your shit even get on the seat? Barfaroni. Ok well I just needed to rant about that b/c it made me wanna puke. Hope everyone else’s workplace restroom experiences are better than the one I had today.
/Needless to say, I used the other stall
They must have eaten the same meal as someone by my office. Today it looks like someone poured a pot of beef stew into the toilet from about 5 feet in the air. People are goddamn foul.
#5 Stanley said:
There’s an awfully good Bangkok joke in there somewhere.
********Confucious say, “Man who go through turnstile sideways gonna Bangkok….”
The worst are the single-bathrooms with thin doors directly adjacent to the offices or waiting area? Who in the hell laid out that plan? I try to reserve my loudest doo-doos for those locations!