[jonnynails]

I envy you.

It helped having a father who was into hunting.......I learned to crap in the woods and use dry crusty leaves for cleanup duty. I'm big pimpin' now as I take toilet paper with me everywhere.
My friends and wife laugh at me now, especially when we stop for fast food and they see me grab about 80 napkins to keep in the truck in case of roadside emergency.
The only places i try to avoid are those nasty gas stations where the toilet is outside and you have to go in and get the cinder block with a key attached. 9 times out of 10 there is crap on the floor.

I have so many stories i could be on here all night. A funny one that comes to mind was an emergency stop at a Wendys. I'm in the stahl doing my business and one of the employees opens the door to the bathroom. I don't know why they sent a women in the mens room, but soon as she opened the door she said "oh dear lord, whoooo child thats musty". Even after a courtesy flush?? She then shut the door. I was patiently waiting for the second wave and she comes in again. Apparently she must have been told to clean up, and she was getting impatient, but still did not want to be in there with me in the stahl. This time she said "you still in here"? I said yes I am. She said "well for how long". I said I did not know this was a timed event and someone should have told me when the clock started so I could have gotten my terds lined up for quick and effecient dismissle. She didn't bother me anymore after that

 

[Red Rabbit]

kick asss

 

[$tinkle]

in 6th grade, after a soccer game, i had to wrench so bad & no privvy in sight. it was a 3 mile walk home & about 95 degrees. as long as i walked like ed grimly all was well. then, i had to cross lee highway at cleveland st (n. arlington). that was pretty much it. and once you start, it's exactly like childbirth. so now i had a new gameplan: keep it off my socks. it didn't help that it was frothy from eating just oranges (3) that morning. to this day, i can still find the storm drain where i slung my tightie-whitie flotsam from the s.s. brownhaus. every time i see some ditched undies with twigs & slurpie straws, i already know what happened.

my daughter loves this story.

 

[Da Peach]

slurpy straws? I think you're doing it wrong...

 

[llkoolkeg]

People who take cell phone calls when they are in the crapper.QUOTE]

The very thought is revolting. Thanks- I will never borrow another cell phone for the rest of my days...shyte/shmeg germified nastiness.

 

[Red Rabbit]

Today on the bathroom wall was a new sign.

"PLEASE do not use an excessive amount of toilet seat covers. They are clogging the toilets. Thanks. WCSI Building Management"

How many covers do you need to clog the pipes of a high pressure toilet system?

Holy crap

 

[stevew]

What happened to your Rudy thread Nancy boy?

 

[jimmydean]

Today on the bathroom wall was a new sign.

"PLEASE do not use an excessive amount of toilet seat covers. They are clogging the toilets. Thanks. WCSI Building Management"

How many covers do you need to clog the pipes of a high pressure toilet system?

Holy crap

Says the guy who uses too many toilet seat covers.

 

[Red Rabbit]

True. But I have never seen it clog.

 

[LordOpie]

How many covers do you need to clog the pipes of a high pressure toilet system?

 

[$tinkle]

you ever have these morons at work who read the paper then leave it on the floor so it can soak up the oversplash? they think they're doing everyone a favor by leaving something they estimate to be readable.

 

[Red Rabbit]

Someone always leaves a Vacuum?Coating journal magazine in ours. I wouldn't touch it. Who would want to read that anyway? lthumbsdown:

 

[Secret Squirrel]

Someone always leaves a Vacuum?Coating journal magazine in ours. I wouldn't touch it. Who would want to read that anyway? lthumbsdown:

So that's the new euphamism for gay porn....I see...

 

[Red Rabbit]

This thread is gold.

 

[MtnbikeMike]

You can't call your own thread gold

 

[dan wask]

I usually go for the sh!t n' git at work or at school. The less time you're in the there, the less its awkward and scary.

 

[Red Rabbit]

You can't call your own thread gold

I had little to do with this thread. all the comments are fvcking awesome.

 

[Bushwhacker]

Got this from the NSMB website and deemed it appropriate...Titled "Don't bring your cell to the bathroom"

All in all, it hadn't been a good day. Bad traffic, a malfunctioning
computer, incompetent coworkers and a sore back all made me a seething
cauldron of rage. But more importantly for this story, it had been over
forty-eight hours since I'd last taken a dump. I'd tried to jump start the
process, beginning my day with a bowl of bowel-cleansing fiber cereal,
following it with six cups of coffee at work, and adding a bean-laden lunch
at Taco Bell. As I was returning home from work, my insides let me know with
subtle rumbles and the emission of the occasional tiny fart that Big Things
would be happening soon. Alas, I had to stop at the mall to pick up an order
for my wife. I completed this task, and as I was walking past the stores on my way back to the car, I noticed a large sale sign proclaiming, "Everything Must Go!" This was prophetic, for my colon informed me with a sudden violent cramp and a wet, squeaky fart that everything was indeed about to go.
I hurried to the mall bathrooms. I surveyed the five stalls, which I have
numbered 0 through 4 (I write a lot of software) for your convenience:

0.Occupied.

1.Clean, but Bathroom Protocol forbids its use, as it's next to the occupied one.

2.Poo on seat.

3.Poo and toilet paper in bowl, unidentifiable liquid splattered on seat.

4.No toilet paper, no stall door, unidentifiable sticky object near base of
toilet.

Clearly, it had to be Stall #1. I trudged back, entered, dropped trou and
sat down. I'm normally a fairly Shameful Sh1tter. I wasn't happy about being
next to the occupied stall, but Big Things were afoot.

I was just getting ready to bear down when all of a sudden the sweet sounds
of Beethoven came from next door, followed by a fumbling, and then the sound of a voice answering the ringing phone. As usual for a cell phone
conversation, the voice was exactly 8 dB louder than it needed to be. Out of
Shameful habit, my sphincter slammed shut. The inane conversation went on and on. Mr. Sh1tter was blathering to Mrs. Sh1tter about the sh1tty day he had. I sat there, cramping and miserable, waiting for him to finish. As the loud conversation dragged on, I became angrier and angrier, thinking that I, too, had a crappy day, but I was too polite to yak about in public. My bowels let me know in no uncertain terms that if I didn't get crapping soon, my day would be getting even crappier.

Finally my anger reached a point that overcame Shamefulness. I no longer
cared. I gripped the toilet paper holder with one hand, braced my other hand
against the side of the stall, and pushed with all my might. I was rewarded
with a fart of colossal magnitude -- a cross between the sound of someone
ripping a very wet bed sheet in half and of plywood being torn off a wall.
The sound gradually transitioned into a heavily modulated low-RPM tone, not
unlike someone firing up a Harley. I managed to hit the resonance frequency
of the stall, and it shook gently.

Once my ass cheeks stopped flapping in the breeze, three things became
apparent: (1) The next-door conversation had ceased; (2) my colon's
continued seizing indicated that there was more to come; and (3) the
bathroom was now beset by a horrible, eldritch stench. It was as if a
gateway to Hell had been opened. The foul miasma quickly made its way underthestall and began choking my poop-mate. This initial "herald" fart had
ended his conversation in mid-sentence.

"Oh my God," I heard him utter, following it with suppressed sounds of
choking, and then, "No, baby, that wasn't me (cough, gag), you could hear
that (gag)??"

Now there was no stopping me. I pushed for all I was worth. I could swear
that in the resulting cacophony of rips, squirts, splashes, poots, and
blasts, I was actually lifted slightly off the pot. The amount of stuff in
me was incredible. It sprayed against the bowl with tremendous force. Later,
in surveying the damage, I'd see that liquid poop had actually managed to
ricochet out of the bowl and run down the side on to the floor. But for now,
all I could do was hang on for the ride.

Next door I could hear him fumbling with the paper dispenser as he
desperately tried to finish his task. Little snatches of conversation made
themselves heard over my anal symphony: "Gotta go... horrible... throw up...
in my mouth... not... make it... tell the kids... love them... oh God..."
followed by more sounds of suppressed gagging and retching.

Alas, it is evidently difficult to hold one's phone and wipe one's bum at
the same time. Just as my high-pressure abuse of the toilet was winding
down, I heard a plop and splash from next door, followed by string of swear
words and gags. My poop-mate had dropped his phone into the toilet.

There was a lull in my production, and the restroom became deathly quiet. I
could envision him standing there, wondering what to do. A final anal
announcement came trumpeting from my behind, small chunks plopping noisily
into the water. That must have been the last straw. I heard a flush, a
fumbling with the lock, and then the stall door was thrown open. I heard him
running out of the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

After a considerable amount of paperwork, I got up and surveyed the damage.
I felt bad for the janitor who'd be forced to deal with this, but I knew
that flushing was not an option. No toilet in the world could handle that
unholy mess. Flushing would only lead to a floor flooded with filth.

As I left, I glanced into the next-door stall. Nothing remained in the bowl.
Had he flushed his phone, or had he plucked it out and left the bathroom
with nasty unwashed hands? The world will never know.

I exited the bathroom, momentarily proud and Shameless, looking around for a
face glaring at me. But I saw no one. I suspect that somehow my supernatural elimination has managed to transfer my Shamefulness to my anonymous poop-mate. I think it'll be a long time before he can bring himself to poop in public -- and I doubt he'll ever again answer his cell phone in the loo. And this, my friends, is why you should never talk on your phone in the
bathroom.

 

[BurlyShirley]

 

[Red Rabbit]

Progress. I took a **** in a fvcking nasty as hell port a john yesterday at our outdoor ice rink.

 

[laura]

Progress. I took a **** in a fvcking nasty as hell port a john yesterday at our outdoor ice rink.

taking a **** in a port a john is ****ing gross.

 

[Spero]

taking a **** in a port a john is ****ing gross.

 

[$tinkle]

Progress. I took a **** in a fvcking nasty as hell port a john yesterday at our outdoor ice rink.

i love high country outhouses in winter; you get the 5' schitagmites nearly kissing your hoop.

 

[LordOpie]

Go rent the movie "Train Spotting". It's quite the ride.

 

[Red Rabbit]

There was no light, I hope my **** made it in the bowel.

 

[LordOpie]

There was no light, I hope my **** made it in the bowel.

You were pooping INTO a bowel?

 

[Spero]

You were pooping INTO a bowel?

2 dudes, no cup!

 

[laura]

There was no light, I hope my **** made it in the bowel.

Some times I could swear your horrible spelling is totally intensional.

 

[H8R]

Progress.

 

[Red Rabbit]

You were pooping INTO a bowel?

Pun didn't work as well as I thought it would.

Bowel Bowl

Looked better when I thought of it the first time, now not so much.

 

[H8R]

Some times I could swear your horrible spelling is totally intensional.

I'm sure you meant:

in·ten·tion·al /ɪnˈtɛnʃənl/ Pronunciation Key - Show Spelled Pronunciation[in-ten-shuh-nl] Pronunciation Key - Show IPA Pronunciation
–adjective
1. done with intention or on purpose; intended: an intentional insult.
2. of or pertaining to intention or purpose

.

And not:

in·ten·sion /ɪnˈtɛnʃən/ Pronunciation Key - Show Spelled Pronunciation[in-ten-shuhn] Pronunciation Key - Show IPA Pronunciation
–noun
1. intensification; increase in degree.
2. intensity; high degree.
3. relative intensity; degree.
4. exertion of the mind; determination.
5. Logic. (of a term) the set of attributes belonging to all and only those things to which the given term is correctly applied; connotation; comprehension. Compare extension (def. 12).
[Origin: 1595&#8211;1605; < L inténsi&#333;n- (s. of inténsi&#333. See intense, -ion]

&#8212;Related forms
in·ten·sion·al, adjective
in·ten·sion·al·ly, adverb

 

[jonKranked]

our toilets are cleaned twice daily.

 

[laura]

I only misspell words when I am making fun of other people's spelling.

BTW, is it totally irrational that the ****ing purple, confused smilie makes me want to punch my computer screen and scream "OH, YOU DON'T GET IT? ARE YOU A LITTLE CONFUSED? YOU DON'T QUITE UNDERSTAND WHAT JUST HAPPENED THERE, HUH? **** YOU!!!!!!!" That's got to be irrational.

 

[LordOpie]

Looked better when I thought of it the first time...

Just how much are you thinking about this?

No, don't answer.

 

[Red Rabbit]

BTW, is it totally irrational that the ****ing purple, confused smilie makes me want to punch my computer screen and scream "OH, YOU DON'T GET IT? ARE YOU A LITTLE CONFUSED? YOU DON'T QUITE UNDERSTAND WHAT JUST HAPPENED THERE, HUH? **** YOU!!!!!!!" That's got to be irrational.

Someone needs a Prozac and a beer... or ten.


Right click, adblock image.

 

[LordOpie]

I only misspell words when I am making fun of other people's spelling.

BTW, is it totally irrational that the ****ing purple, confused smilie makes me want to punch my computer screen and scream "OH, YOU DON'T GET IT? ARE YOU A LITTLE CONFUSED? YOU DON'T QUITE UNDERSTAND WHAT JUST HAPPENED THERE, HUH? **** YOU!!!!!!!" That's got to be irrational.

Run! Aunt Flo is visiting!