octopusman
Member
:lol :lol :lol Holy crap, Pun intended.mre said:
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I almost crapped my pants yesterday. A horrific experience.
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Callo Merlose
Banned
ha, this reminds me of an effing gross CKY/jackass video where a jogger did just that. He was jogging and he got the hershey squirts. It was disgusting and damned hiliarious. He kept running while it just shot out of him and trickled down his leg.
Gouty
Bloodborne is shit
When I was a kid one of my friends lived in an earth home. From the back of the house you could walk directly onto the roof of the house. One hot afternoon I had to poop and thought it would be hilarious to drop a sizzler on their house. It ended up barreling down the steep slant of the roof and came to a stop in their gutter which mind you was directly at ground level.
The next day I came over and very casually they mentioned that Chester (their tiny poodle) had discovered a human sized turd in the gutter and they were mystified as to where it could have come from.
The next day I fucked my friends sister.
The next day I came over and very casually they mentioned that Chester (their tiny poodle) had discovered a human sized turd in the gutter and they were mystified as to where it could have come from.
The next day I fucked my friends sister.
This shit's got me crackin' up.
I shat at camp. I drank some water from a creek off a dare (we had found a severed animal leg upstream), and the next morning I shat my pants while pissing. My counselor found me in the creek and asked what I was doing. I told him I shat my pants, and he made me do pushups for drinking bad water.
I shat at camp. I drank some water from a creek off a dare (we had found a severed animal leg upstream), and the next morning I shat my pants while pissing. My counselor found me in the creek and asked what I was doing. I told him I shat my pants, and he made me do pushups for drinking bad water.
MrTroubleMaker
Member
:lol
Yo. Check It
Neo Member
Handycrap101 said:
Handycrap101
Member
(Yesterday, 10:14 PM)
Reply | Quote
You sir, are a gentleman and a scholar
A Link to the Past
Banned
I shit myself a tad a little bit ago; I was lurched over the toilet, sick as a dog with both some intense diarrhea and vomiting, and when I vomited into the toilet, a bit of shit came out. Was not comfortable. Worst thing about it is that you really can't set it up so your ass is on the can and your mouth's into a bucket - when you're about to vomit, you rush your ass to the toilet and stick your head in.
I haven't any of the stories aside from the OPs, but I bet I can sympathize. I'll read them all after making this post.
During my freshman year of HS, I was apparently the victim of food poisoning and had to leave school early. My mom was driving me home, and my family always went home through the garage rather than the front door. Like the OP, my body was about to *explode* and I needed to go to the bathroom fast. But when we get to the driveway and try to open the garage door... it doesn't open because the electricity was down. SHIT. At that moment, I just couldn't take it anymore and shit my pants. It was so uncomfortable and embarassing. Feeling it roll down my legs and my pants absorb it... I wanted to die.
But it gets better. I needed to take a shower, ASAP. So I had to knock on my neighbor's door and ask him for a knife so we could budge one of the windows open. My mom's a relatively fragile woman in her 50s, so she couldn't climb into the window herself. Which meant that I climbed into the window with shit in my legs/pants. It was horrific. Never felt so good to shower! Never worse the pants again, either.
But I laugh about it to this day. :lol :lol
During my freshman year of HS, I was apparently the victim of food poisoning and had to leave school early. My mom was driving me home, and my family always went home through the garage rather than the front door. Like the OP, my body was about to *explode* and I needed to go to the bathroom fast. But when we get to the driveway and try to open the garage door... it doesn't open because the electricity was down. SHIT. At that moment, I just couldn't take it anymore and shit my pants. It was so uncomfortable and embarassing. Feeling it roll down my legs and my pants absorb it... I wanted to die.
But it gets better. I needed to take a shower, ASAP. So I had to knock on my neighbor's door and ask him for a knife so we could budge one of the windows open. My mom's a relatively fragile woman in her 50s, so she couldn't climb into the window herself. Which meant that I climbed into the window with shit in my legs/pants. It was horrific. Never felt so good to shower! Never worse the pants again, either.
But I laugh about it to this day. :lol :lol
This thread is so awesome. I hadn't crapped for four days (yes four), and I read this last night and took an epic shit, and then this morning at 4AM I wake up and have to take an epic shit again.
Thank you poo GAF!
I suppose I could tell a story of my worst poo experience. I had to crap really bad one time when our family went to Wendy's, and the door in the bathroom didn't lock, it had only one toilet and there was *no stall whatsoever*. I knew that the door didn't lock because we'd been to the Wendy's many times before and usually I just peed real quick and if anyone opened the door it would be fine. Because I had to crap really really bad I took my chances anyway.
Here's the bad part, though. As I go to sit down and crap my belt delayed my pants coming off (I wore "hand me downs" and had to wear a belt to keep my pants up). Which in turn delayed my sitting down. This resulted in an epic shit going down one of my legs, even as I squeezed for the life of me to keep it in. I ripped my pants off as it was running down my leg because I never wore underwear and there were simply no defenses between me and the stream of shit riding down, at this point, both of my legs. Fortunately because I never tied my shoes tightly they came off with my pants, so all that got doused was my socks. So here I am, hunched over halfway, pants thrown halfway across the bathroom, shit running down my legs, pulling toilet paper frantically to clean up the mess I've made.
And in comes some fat ugly prick who goes "Oh shit! Lock the door dude!"
I wasn't really paying attention to him at that point and after I cleaned up a little bit more I got to thinking about what an asshole he was for not *knocking*. Everyone who was a regular there knew that the door didn't lock. It still bugs me, some 15-20 years after the fact, that I didn't tell that guy "knock next time dude."
Thank you poo GAF!
I suppose I could tell a story of my worst poo experience. I had to crap really bad one time when our family went to Wendy's, and the door in the bathroom didn't lock, it had only one toilet and there was *no stall whatsoever*. I knew that the door didn't lock because we'd been to the Wendy's many times before and usually I just peed real quick and if anyone opened the door it would be fine. Because I had to crap really really bad I took my chances anyway.
Here's the bad part, though. As I go to sit down and crap my belt delayed my pants coming off (I wore "hand me downs" and had to wear a belt to keep my pants up). Which in turn delayed my sitting down. This resulted in an epic shit going down one of my legs, even as I squeezed for the life of me to keep it in. I ripped my pants off as it was running down my leg because I never wore underwear and there were simply no defenses between me and the stream of shit riding down, at this point, both of my legs. Fortunately because I never tied my shoes tightly they came off with my pants, so all that got doused was my socks. So here I am, hunched over halfway, pants thrown halfway across the bathroom, shit running down my legs, pulling toilet paper frantically to clean up the mess I've made.
And in comes some fat ugly prick who goes "Oh shit! Lock the door dude!"
I wasn't really paying attention to him at that point and after I cleaned up a little bit more I got to thinking about what an asshole he was for not *knocking*. Everyone who was a regular there knew that the door didn't lock. It still bugs me, some 15-20 years after the fact, that I didn't tell that guy "knock next time dude."
Why do you guys even go for the toilet when the shit is halfway down your legs.
Save time like me. I jump right into the bathtub. No time to undo belt, unzip fly, drop pants & underwear. Turn on the shower, you can wash yourself & semi wash the clothes.
After shower get a plastic bag and take clothes down to the laundry room.
Save time like me. I jump right into the bathtub. No time to undo belt, unzip fly, drop pants & underwear. Turn on the shower, you can wash yourself & semi wash the clothes.
After shower get a plastic bag and take clothes down to the laundry room.
Spainkiller
the man who sold the world
Triz said:
braimuge said:
:lol
I'm dying. Best use of a gif ever.
zombieshavebrains
I have not used cocaine
Mohonky
Member
Unfortunately, I've experienced the shame of shitting myself. It was one of those moments like a a car accident; it's so surreal, you sit there thinking to yourself, just 5 minutes, give me 5 minutes back and I would have done it all differently.
I'm agoraphobic due to getting panic attacks when I leave the house. I can deal with my head feeling light, like I'm going to pass out, I can control the headfuck side of things but the one thing I have trouble in dealing with is the neausea. The overwhelming physical sensations that leave my stomach churning and a powerful sensation to either A: throw up or B: take a shit. So after a while of forcing myself out I eventually got myself a job and eventually started working full time, I was out of the house and work was close to home so it was achievable but some days were worse than others.
On this one particular day I was feeling rather ordinary. I was feely edgy all day and my anxiety was playing up which in turn was churning my gut. The whole day went by and being the only person in the store till the afternoon was scary but eventually a junior turned up for work and I felt the anxiety die down some what, however come close time, I was still a little off. We shut the doors to the store and I started doing up the tills when I felt that along with my stomach doing flips a trip to the throne would soon be in order. I was half way through counting so I figured fuck it I'll finish counting before I go to the toilet. This notion lasted only 30sec before the 'need' to go to the toilet went from a passing thought to serious emergency. So I set off for the toilet, less than 30 feet away. With each step my ass clenched tighter staving off the impending horror I would soon unleash.
I got to the staff toilets, the relief caused me to relax which at this point was a mistake as my ass was now surely dilating. I peered in only to find the one toilet stall in the room was occupied. Fuck, the urgency went up a notch. My body was confused, I was mentally and physically prepped to release this burden but suddenly the oppurtunity was taken. I made haste to the public toilets, again the closer I got the more my body eased and threaten to let loose. Both stalls occupied. Super Fuck. At this point there was nothing for it, I ran for the disabled toilets, threw open the door, attempted to lock it and was mid sprint, undoing pants and attempting to aim ass towards the toilet. Alas, it was too late and far worse than anticipated. The constant churning in my gut had produced what can best be described as as a bowel movement of curry viscosity and it was now sprayed down my pants, across the floor and all over the toilet. If I had a gun, I might have shot myself then and there. Seen Trainspotting? Remember the part with the 'Worst Toilet in Scotland?' This was worse. Then to top it all off, an elderly woman attempted to enter the cubicle. At this point I find out the lock doesn't actually work so the door swings open and this old senile bird is there staring at me as I trundle across the room, one hand over cock, half covered in my own fecal matter slamming the door in her face. I had to rip the shoelace out of my shoe to tie the door shut.
Thankfully, I did have my mobile on me and a mate of mine was off work that day so I had to call him to bring down a plastic bag to put my clothes in, new clothes to wear and a towel. I pretty much had to have a shower using the water out of the bathroom basin, got changed and had to use whatever clean portions of my pants were left to 'clean up' a little, I just couldn't let the cleaners go in there and deal with the entire thing they did. So I managed to clean up to a point and disappeared out of there as fast as possible.
It was absolutely fucked. I wish this was some sort of joke post but the damn scenario is still burn't into my head. I still get panic attacks when I go out and because of the afforementioned scenario, I am even more anxious about the idea of having a panic attack, feeling neauseas and having a repeat of that day, a thought that itself triggers the panic attacks anyway. Needless to say, I usually take a dump before heading out these days.
I'm agoraphobic due to getting panic attacks when I leave the house. I can deal with my head feeling light, like I'm going to pass out, I can control the headfuck side of things but the one thing I have trouble in dealing with is the neausea. The overwhelming physical sensations that leave my stomach churning and a powerful sensation to either A: throw up or B: take a shit. So after a while of forcing myself out I eventually got myself a job and eventually started working full time, I was out of the house and work was close to home so it was achievable but some days were worse than others.
On this one particular day I was feeling rather ordinary. I was feely edgy all day and my anxiety was playing up which in turn was churning my gut. The whole day went by and being the only person in the store till the afternoon was scary but eventually a junior turned up for work and I felt the anxiety die down some what, however come close time, I was still a little off. We shut the doors to the store and I started doing up the tills when I felt that along with my stomach doing flips a trip to the throne would soon be in order. I was half way through counting so I figured fuck it I'll finish counting before I go to the toilet. This notion lasted only 30sec before the 'need' to go to the toilet went from a passing thought to serious emergency. So I set off for the toilet, less than 30 feet away. With each step my ass clenched tighter staving off the impending horror I would soon unleash.
I got to the staff toilets, the relief caused me to relax which at this point was a mistake as my ass was now surely dilating. I peered in only to find the one toilet stall in the room was occupied. Fuck, the urgency went up a notch. My body was confused, I was mentally and physically prepped to release this burden but suddenly the oppurtunity was taken. I made haste to the public toilets, again the closer I got the more my body eased and threaten to let loose. Both stalls occupied. Super Fuck. At this point there was nothing for it, I ran for the disabled toilets, threw open the door, attempted to lock it and was mid sprint, undoing pants and attempting to aim ass towards the toilet. Alas, it was too late and far worse than anticipated. The constant churning in my gut had produced what can best be described as as a bowel movement of curry viscosity and it was now sprayed down my pants, across the floor and all over the toilet. If I had a gun, I might have shot myself then and there. Seen Trainspotting? Remember the part with the 'Worst Toilet in Scotland?' This was worse. Then to top it all off, an elderly woman attempted to enter the cubicle. At this point I find out the lock doesn't actually work so the door swings open and this old senile bird is there staring at me as I trundle across the room, one hand over cock, half covered in my own fecal matter slamming the door in her face. I had to rip the shoelace out of my shoe to tie the door shut.
Thankfully, I did have my mobile on me and a mate of mine was off work that day so I had to call him to bring down a plastic bag to put my clothes in, new clothes to wear and a towel. I pretty much had to have a shower using the water out of the bathroom basin, got changed and had to use whatever clean portions of my pants were left to 'clean up' a little, I just couldn't let the cleaners go in there and deal with the entire thing they did. So I managed to clean up to a point and disappeared out of there as fast as possible.
It was absolutely fucked. I wish this was some sort of joke post but the damn scenario is still burn't into my head. I still get panic attacks when I go out and because of the afforementioned scenario, I am even more anxious about the idea of having a panic attack, feeling neauseas and having a repeat of that day, a thought that itself triggers the panic attacks anyway. Needless to say, I usually take a dump before heading out these days.
Some of you really went all-out for your stories. I am very much appreciative that this thread has turned into a huge success.
Believe it or not, during my moaning and groaning on the can, I still found myself picking up a magazine next to me to read. Apparently, I have some sort of bizarre compulsive desire to read something while I shit. It doesn't have to be anything important-- in the past, I've found myself reading the backs of dvd cases, video game manuals that I would never touch otherwise, even receipts that I just so happened to have in my pocket from whatever purchase I happened to make that day. Nevertheless, I HAVE to read when I take a shit. Maybe it's because of the awesome lighting. Now that I think about it, when the original GBA came out, with no backlight and a visibility of about zero unless the perfect lighting conditions were met, I would often FORCE myself to shit just to get a quick gaming session in.
Much of my knowledge can be attributed to these sessions.
Believe it or not, during my moaning and groaning on the can, I still found myself picking up a magazine next to me to read. Apparently, I have some sort of bizarre compulsive desire to read something while I shit. It doesn't have to be anything important-- in the past, I've found myself reading the backs of dvd cases, video game manuals that I would never touch otherwise, even receipts that I just so happened to have in my pocket from whatever purchase I happened to make that day. Nevertheless, I HAVE to read when I take a shit. Maybe it's because of the awesome lighting. Now that I think about it, when the original GBA came out, with no backlight and a visibility of about zero unless the perfect lighting conditions were met, I would often FORCE myself to shit just to get a quick gaming session in.
Much of my knowledge can be attributed to these sessions.
Insane Metal
Member
OH MY :lol :lol :lol :lol :lolTimedog said:
zombieshavebrains
I have not used cocaine
Docpan said:
Its one of the few times in the day you can have all to yourself.
Gamecocks625
Member
Docpan said:
this got me for some reason :lol
Replicant said:
Surely it can't be any worse than that ^
holy crap
Here's a post on GAF that I actually saved to Microsoft Word because it was so epic. I believe Orin GA is the author.
The Greatest Story Ever Told.
Now, I am aware that a small number of things are perhaps sheer fabrication, but I have a story to tell that is the absolute truth. Funniest damn thing that has ever happened to me. A couple of weeks ago we decided to cruise out to Ryan's Steakhouse for dinner. It was a Wednesday night which means that macaroni and beef was on the hot bar, indeed the only night of the week that it is served. Wednesday night is also kid's night at Ryan's, complete with Dizzy the Clown wandering from table to table entertaining the little bastards.
It may seem that the events about to be told have little connection to those two circumstances, but all will be clear in a moment. We went through the line and placed our orders for the all-you-can-eat hot bar then sat down as far away from the front of the restaurant as possible in order to keep the density of kids down a bit. Then I started my move to the hot bar. Plate after plate of macaroni and beef were consumed that evening, I tell you -- in all, four heaping plates of the pseudo-Italian ambrosia were shoved into my belly.
I was sated. Perhaps bit too much, however. I had not really been feeling well all day, what with a bit of gas and such. By the time I had eaten four overwhelmed plates of food, I was in real trouble. There was so much pressure on my diaphragm that I was having trouble breathing. At the same time, the downward pressure was building. At first, I thought it was only gas which could have been passed in batches right at the table without to much concern. Unfortunately, that was not to be.
After a minute or so it was clear that I was dealing with explosive diarrhea. It's amazing how grease can make its way through your intestines far faster than the food which spawned the grease to begin with, but I digress... I got up from the table and made my way to the bathroom. Upon entering, I saw two sinks immediately inside the door, two urinals just to the right of the sinks, and two toilet stalls against the back wall. One of them was a handicapped bathroom.
Now, normally I would have gone to the handicapped stall since I like to stretch out a bit when I take a good shit, but in this case, the door lock was broken and the only thing I hate worse than my wife telling me to stop cutting my toenails with a pair of diagonal wire cutters is having someone walk in on me while I am taking a shit. I went to the normal stall. In retrospect, I probably should have gone to the large, handicapped stall even though the door would not lock because that bit of time lost in making the stall switch proved to be a bit too long under the circumstances. By the time I had walked into the regular stall, the pressure on my ass was reaching Biblical proportions. I began "The Move. "
For those women who may be reading this, let me take a moment to explain "The Move." Men know exactly what their bowels are up to at any given second. And when the time comes to empty the cache, a sequence of physiological events occur that can not be stopped under any circumstances. There is a move men make that involves simultaneously approaching the toilet, beginning the body turn to position ones ass toward said toilet, hooking ones fingers into ones waistline, and pulling down the pants while beginning the squat at the same time. It is a very fluid motion that, when performed properly, results in the flawless expulsion of shit at the exact same second that ones ass is properly placed on the toilet seat. Done properly, it even assures that the choad is properly inserted into the front rim of the toilet in the event that the piss stream lets loose at the same time; it is truly a picture of coordination rivaling that of a skilled ballet dancer.
I was about half-way into "The Move" when I looked down at the floor and saw a pile of vomit that had been previously expelled by one of those little bastards attending kids night; it was mounded up in the corner so I did not notice it when I had first walked into the stall. Normally, I would not have been bothered by such a thing, but I had eaten so much and the pressure upward was so intense, that I hit a rarely experienced gag reflex. And once that reflex started, combined with the intense pressure upward caused by the bloated stomach, four plates of macaroni and beef started coming up for a rematch.
What happened next was so quick that the exact sequence of events are a bit fuzzy, but I will try to reconstruct them as best I can. In that moment of impending projectile vomiting, my attention was diverted from the goings-on at the other end. To put a freeze frame on the situation, I was half crotched down to the toilet, pants pulled down to my knees, with a load of vomit coming up my esophagus. Now, most of you know that vomiting takes precedence over shit no matter what is about to come slamming out of your ass. It is apparently an evolutionary thing since shitting will not kill you, but vomiting takes a presence of mind to accomplish so that you do not aspirate any food into the bronchial tubes and perhaps choke to death. My attention was thus diverted.
At that very split second, my ass exploded in what can only be described as a wake...you know, as in a newspaper headline along the lines of "30,000 Killed In Wake of Typhoon Fifi" or something similar. In what seemed to be most suitably measured in cubic feet, an enormous plug of shit the consistency of thick mud with embedded pockets of greasy liquid came flying out of my ass. But remember, I was only half-way down on the toilet at that moment. The shit wave was of such force and of just such an angle in relation to the back curve of the toilet seat that it ricocheted off the back of the seat and slammed into the wall at an angle of incidence equal to the angle at which it initially hit the toilet seat. Then I sat down.
Recall that when that event occurred, I was already half-way to sitting anyway and had actually reached the point of no return. I have always considered myself as relatively stable gravitationally, but when you get beyond a certain point, you're going down no matter how limber you may be. Needless to say, the shit wave, though of considerable force, was not so sufficient so as to completely glance off the toilet seat and deposit itself on the walls, unlike what you would see when hitting a puddle with a high-pressure water hose; even though you throw water at the puddle, the puddle gets moved and no water is left to re-form a puddle. There was a significant amount of shit remaining on about one-third of the seat rim, which I had now just collapsed upon.
Now, back to the vomit...
While all the shitting was going on, the vomit was still on its way up. By the time I had actually collapsed on the toilet, my mouth had filled up with a goodly portion of the macaroni and beef I had just consumed. OK, so what does the human body instinctively do when vomiting? One bends over. So I bent over. I was still sitting on the toilet, though. Therefore, bending over resulted in me placing my head above my now slightly-opened legs, positioned in between my knees and waist. Also directly above my pants which were now pulled down to a point just midway between my knees and my ankles. Oh, did I mention that I was wearing not just pants, but sweat pants with elastic on the ankles?
In one mighty push, some three pounds of macaroni and beef, two or three Cokes, and a couple of Big, Fat Yeast Rolls were deposited in my pants...on the inside...with no ready exit at the bottom down by my feet.
In the next several seconds, there were a handful of farts, a couple of turds, and the event ended, yet I was now sitting there with my pants full of vomit, my back covered in shit that had bounced off the toilet, spattered on three ceramic-tiled walls to a height of about
five feet, and still had enough force to come back at me, covering the back of my shirt with droplets of liquid shit. All while thick shit was spread all over my ass in a ring curiously in the shape of a toilet seat.
And there was no ****ing toilet paper.
What could I do but laugh. I must have sounded like a complete maniac to the guy who then wandered into the bathroom. He actually asked if I was OK since I was laughing so hard I must have sounded like I was crying hysterically. I calmed down just enough to ask him if he would get the manager. And told him to have the manager bring some toilet paper. When the manager walked in, he brought the toilet paper with him, but in no way was prepared for what happened next. I simply told him that there was no way I was going to explain what was happening in the stall, but that I needed several wet towels and I needed him to go ask my wife to come help me. I told him where we were sitting and he left.
At that point, I think he was probably assuming that I had pissed just a bit in my pants or something similarly benign. About two minutes later, my wife came into the bathroom not knowing what was wrong and with a certain amount of worry in her voice. I explained to her (still laughing and having trouble getting out words) that I had a slight accident and needed her help. Knowing that I had experienced some close calls in the past, she probably assumed that I had laid down a small turd or something and just needed to being the car around so we could bolt immediately.
Until I asked her, I'm sure she had no idea that she was about to go across the street and purchase me new underwear, new socks, new pants, a new shirt, and (by that time due to considerable leakage around the elastic ankles thingies) new sneakers. And she then started to laugh herself since I was still laughing. She began to ask for an explanation as to what had happened when I promised her that I would tell her later, but that I just needed to handle damage control for the time being. She left.
The manager then came back in with a half-dozen wet towels and a few dry ones. I asked him to also bring a mop and bucket upon which he assured me that they would clean up anything that needed to be cleaned.
Without giving him specific details, I explained that what was going on in that stall that night was far in excess of what I would expect anyone to deal with, what with most of the folks working at Ryan's making minimum wage of just slightly above.
At that moment, I think it dawned on him exactly the gravity of the situation. Then that manager went so far above the call of duty that I will be eternally grateful for his actions. He hooked up a hose. Fortunately, commercial bathrooms are constructed with tile walls and tile floors and have a drain in the middle of the room in order to make clean up easy. Fortunately, I was in a commercial bathroom. He hooked up the hose to the spigot located under the sink as I began cleaning myself up with the wet towels. Just as I was finishing, my wife got back with the new clothes and passed the into the stall, whereupon I stuffed the previously worn clothing into the plastic bag that came from the store, handing the bag to my wife. I finished cleaning myself off and carefully put on my new clothes, still stuck in the stall since I figured that it would be in bad taste to go out
of the stall to get redressed in the event I happened to be standing there naked and some little bastard kid walked in. At that point, I had only made a mess; I had not yet committed a felony and intended to keep it that way.
When I finished getting dressed, I picked up the hose and cleaned up the entire stall, washing down the remains toward the drain in the center of the room. I put down the hose and walked out of the bathroom. I had intended to go to the manager and thank him for all he had done, but when I walked out, three of the management staff were there to greet me with a standing ovation. I started laughing so hard that I thought I was going to throw up again, but managed to scurry out to the car where my wife was now waiting to pick me up by the front door.
The upshot of all this is that I strongly recommend eating dinner at Ryan's Steak House. They have, by far, the nicest management staff of any restaurant in which I have eaten
The Greatest Story Ever Told.
Now, I am aware that a small number of things are perhaps sheer fabrication, but I have a story to tell that is the absolute truth. Funniest damn thing that has ever happened to me. A couple of weeks ago we decided to cruise out to Ryan's Steakhouse for dinner. It was a Wednesday night which means that macaroni and beef was on the hot bar, indeed the only night of the week that it is served. Wednesday night is also kid's night at Ryan's, complete with Dizzy the Clown wandering from table to table entertaining the little bastards.
It may seem that the events about to be told have little connection to those two circumstances, but all will be clear in a moment. We went through the line and placed our orders for the all-you-can-eat hot bar then sat down as far away from the front of the restaurant as possible in order to keep the density of kids down a bit. Then I started my move to the hot bar. Plate after plate of macaroni and beef were consumed that evening, I tell you -- in all, four heaping plates of the pseudo-Italian ambrosia were shoved into my belly.
I was sated. Perhaps bit too much, however. I had not really been feeling well all day, what with a bit of gas and such. By the time I had eaten four overwhelmed plates of food, I was in real trouble. There was so much pressure on my diaphragm that I was having trouble breathing. At the same time, the downward pressure was building. At first, I thought it was only gas which could have been passed in batches right at the table without to much concern. Unfortunately, that was not to be.
After a minute or so it was clear that I was dealing with explosive diarrhea. It's amazing how grease can make its way through your intestines far faster than the food which spawned the grease to begin with, but I digress... I got up from the table and made my way to the bathroom. Upon entering, I saw two sinks immediately inside the door, two urinals just to the right of the sinks, and two toilet stalls against the back wall. One of them was a handicapped bathroom.
Now, normally I would have gone to the handicapped stall since I like to stretch out a bit when I take a good shit, but in this case, the door lock was broken and the only thing I hate worse than my wife telling me to stop cutting my toenails with a pair of diagonal wire cutters is having someone walk in on me while I am taking a shit. I went to the normal stall. In retrospect, I probably should have gone to the large, handicapped stall even though the door would not lock because that bit of time lost in making the stall switch proved to be a bit too long under the circumstances. By the time I had walked into the regular stall, the pressure on my ass was reaching Biblical proportions. I began "The Move. "
For those women who may be reading this, let me take a moment to explain "The Move." Men know exactly what their bowels are up to at any given second. And when the time comes to empty the cache, a sequence of physiological events occur that can not be stopped under any circumstances. There is a move men make that involves simultaneously approaching the toilet, beginning the body turn to position ones ass toward said toilet, hooking ones fingers into ones waistline, and pulling down the pants while beginning the squat at the same time. It is a very fluid motion that, when performed properly, results in the flawless expulsion of shit at the exact same second that ones ass is properly placed on the toilet seat. Done properly, it even assures that the choad is properly inserted into the front rim of the toilet in the event that the piss stream lets loose at the same time; it is truly a picture of coordination rivaling that of a skilled ballet dancer.
I was about half-way into "The Move" when I looked down at the floor and saw a pile of vomit that had been previously expelled by one of those little bastards attending kids night; it was mounded up in the corner so I did not notice it when I had first walked into the stall. Normally, I would not have been bothered by such a thing, but I had eaten so much and the pressure upward was so intense, that I hit a rarely experienced gag reflex. And once that reflex started, combined with the intense pressure upward caused by the bloated stomach, four plates of macaroni and beef started coming up for a rematch.
What happened next was so quick that the exact sequence of events are a bit fuzzy, but I will try to reconstruct them as best I can. In that moment of impending projectile vomiting, my attention was diverted from the goings-on at the other end. To put a freeze frame on the situation, I was half crotched down to the toilet, pants pulled down to my knees, with a load of vomit coming up my esophagus. Now, most of you know that vomiting takes precedence over shit no matter what is about to come slamming out of your ass. It is apparently an evolutionary thing since shitting will not kill you, but vomiting takes a presence of mind to accomplish so that you do not aspirate any food into the bronchial tubes and perhaps choke to death. My attention was thus diverted.
At that very split second, my ass exploded in what can only be described as a wake...you know, as in a newspaper headline along the lines of "30,000 Killed In Wake of Typhoon Fifi" or something similar. In what seemed to be most suitably measured in cubic feet, an enormous plug of shit the consistency of thick mud with embedded pockets of greasy liquid came flying out of my ass. But remember, I was only half-way down on the toilet at that moment. The shit wave was of such force and of just such an angle in relation to the back curve of the toilet seat that it ricocheted off the back of the seat and slammed into the wall at an angle of incidence equal to the angle at which it initially hit the toilet seat. Then I sat down.
Recall that when that event occurred, I was already half-way to sitting anyway and had actually reached the point of no return. I have always considered myself as relatively stable gravitationally, but when you get beyond a certain point, you're going down no matter how limber you may be. Needless to say, the shit wave, though of considerable force, was not so sufficient so as to completely glance off the toilet seat and deposit itself on the walls, unlike what you would see when hitting a puddle with a high-pressure water hose; even though you throw water at the puddle, the puddle gets moved and no water is left to re-form a puddle. There was a significant amount of shit remaining on about one-third of the seat rim, which I had now just collapsed upon.
Now, back to the vomit...
While all the shitting was going on, the vomit was still on its way up. By the time I had actually collapsed on the toilet, my mouth had filled up with a goodly portion of the macaroni and beef I had just consumed. OK, so what does the human body instinctively do when vomiting? One bends over. So I bent over. I was still sitting on the toilet, though. Therefore, bending over resulted in me placing my head above my now slightly-opened legs, positioned in between my knees and waist. Also directly above my pants which were now pulled down to a point just midway between my knees and my ankles. Oh, did I mention that I was wearing not just pants, but sweat pants with elastic on the ankles?
In one mighty push, some three pounds of macaroni and beef, two or three Cokes, and a couple of Big, Fat Yeast Rolls were deposited in my pants...on the inside...with no ready exit at the bottom down by my feet.
In the next several seconds, there were a handful of farts, a couple of turds, and the event ended, yet I was now sitting there with my pants full of vomit, my back covered in shit that had bounced off the toilet, spattered on three ceramic-tiled walls to a height of about
five feet, and still had enough force to come back at me, covering the back of my shirt with droplets of liquid shit. All while thick shit was spread all over my ass in a ring curiously in the shape of a toilet seat.
And there was no ****ing toilet paper.
What could I do but laugh. I must have sounded like a complete maniac to the guy who then wandered into the bathroom. He actually asked if I was OK since I was laughing so hard I must have sounded like I was crying hysterically. I calmed down just enough to ask him if he would get the manager. And told him to have the manager bring some toilet paper. When the manager walked in, he brought the toilet paper with him, but in no way was prepared for what happened next. I simply told him that there was no way I was going to explain what was happening in the stall, but that I needed several wet towels and I needed him to go ask my wife to come help me. I told him where we were sitting and he left.
At that point, I think he was probably assuming that I had pissed just a bit in my pants or something similarly benign. About two minutes later, my wife came into the bathroom not knowing what was wrong and with a certain amount of worry in her voice. I explained to her (still laughing and having trouble getting out words) that I had a slight accident and needed her help. Knowing that I had experienced some close calls in the past, she probably assumed that I had laid down a small turd or something and just needed to being the car around so we could bolt immediately.
Until I asked her, I'm sure she had no idea that she was about to go across the street and purchase me new underwear, new socks, new pants, a new shirt, and (by that time due to considerable leakage around the elastic ankles thingies) new sneakers. And she then started to laugh herself since I was still laughing. She began to ask for an explanation as to what had happened when I promised her that I would tell her later, but that I just needed to handle damage control for the time being. She left.
The manager then came back in with a half-dozen wet towels and a few dry ones. I asked him to also bring a mop and bucket upon which he assured me that they would clean up anything that needed to be cleaned.
Without giving him specific details, I explained that what was going on in that stall that night was far in excess of what I would expect anyone to deal with, what with most of the folks working at Ryan's making minimum wage of just slightly above.
At that moment, I think it dawned on him exactly the gravity of the situation. Then that manager went so far above the call of duty that I will be eternally grateful for his actions. He hooked up a hose. Fortunately, commercial bathrooms are constructed with tile walls and tile floors and have a drain in the middle of the room in order to make clean up easy. Fortunately, I was in a commercial bathroom. He hooked up the hose to the spigot located under the sink as I began cleaning myself up with the wet towels. Just as I was finishing, my wife got back with the new clothes and passed the into the stall, whereupon I stuffed the previously worn clothing into the plastic bag that came from the store, handing the bag to my wife. I finished cleaning myself off and carefully put on my new clothes, still stuck in the stall since I figured that it would be in bad taste to go out
of the stall to get redressed in the event I happened to be standing there naked and some little bastard kid walked in. At that point, I had only made a mess; I had not yet committed a felony and intended to keep it that way.
When I finished getting dressed, I picked up the hose and cleaned up the entire stall, washing down the remains toward the drain in the center of the room. I put down the hose and walked out of the bathroom. I had intended to go to the manager and thank him for all he had done, but when I walked out, three of the management staff were there to greet me with a standing ovation. I started laughing so hard that I thought I was going to throw up again, but managed to scurry out to the car where my wife was now waiting to pick me up by the front door.
The upshot of all this is that I strongly recommend eating dinner at Ryan's Steak House. They have, by far, the nicest management staff of any restaurant in which I have eaten
Maximilian E.
AKA MS-Evangelist
Hootie said:
:lol :lol :lol :lol
Thanks for sharing this one...
TrAcEr_x90
Member
holy shit at the previous post. I was cracking up so bad, im glad i didnt read that at work.
I'll put my story out there. I think the worst is food poisoning. I have had it twice now, really bad.
First time was at my favorite burrito place. Had been goign there for yeeaars. And one night, that burrito deluxe betrayed me. It was on a sunday and I was watching tv on my couch in my apartment. I will always remember how I suddenly got so sick I had to run to my own bathroom while 60 minutes started. Luckily the tub was right next to the toilet because I was puking right to my left into the tub.
This continued off and on for a bit. I just always remember it was some 60 minute special on romanowski and how he was a steroid enraged football player. It was a bad case of food poisoning because i swear to god i was halucinating. Felt like i was inside the damn tv watching this interview. I probably should have went to the hospital now that i look back.
Second time was in vegas when i went with my buddies. great time, up until we decided to grab lunch at the "pink taco" in the hard rock cafe. The fuckin pink taco man. Any restraunt named that is already asking for trouble. Got the chicken fajitas. Couple hours later after gambling and drinking I could tell something was wrong. I had already had te symptoms before.
So the rest of the night I had to try and "party" but really it was just drinking sprite. I puked in one of the bars, i think the rio. Finally went to the room, only to find my good buddy who had wandered off with a lady drunk past out on the toilet? thigns must not have gone good in his night, but not as bad as mine. I then threw him out and started puking. I then tried going to bed but needed water soooo badly. I grabbed my door key and want out to the machine to get a nice cool water. It was about 3 in the morning so i just went out in my boxers and shirt.
Got the water, came back and realized I did not grab the freakin door key, but rather some fuckin discount pass to a club. My friend inside was too fuckin passed out to hear me banging on the door. Thank god I didnt need to puke or shit, but i knew it was going to come on at any moment. There was a phone on the wall so i called the office. they said they would send someone up to unlock the door. only after 15 minutes of waiting and about 5 people already passing by looking at me like "what the fuck" a buddy of mine finally came back to the room drunk as shit and opened the door. Matter of fact he walked by me, opened the door, looked at me, didnt say a word and went straight to bed. I was just happy to get inside. And then it started all over again, puking and shitting. Food poisoning sucks.
I'll put my story out there. I think the worst is food poisoning. I have had it twice now, really bad.
First time was at my favorite burrito place. Had been goign there for yeeaars. And one night, that burrito deluxe betrayed me. It was on a sunday and I was watching tv on my couch in my apartment. I will always remember how I suddenly got so sick I had to run to my own bathroom while 60 minutes started. Luckily the tub was right next to the toilet because I was puking right to my left into the tub.
This continued off and on for a bit. I just always remember it was some 60 minute special on romanowski and how he was a steroid enraged football player. It was a bad case of food poisoning because i swear to god i was halucinating. Felt like i was inside the damn tv watching this interview. I probably should have went to the hospital now that i look back.
Second time was in vegas when i went with my buddies. great time, up until we decided to grab lunch at the "pink taco" in the hard rock cafe. The fuckin pink taco man. Any restraunt named that is already asking for trouble. Got the chicken fajitas. Couple hours later after gambling and drinking I could tell something was wrong. I had already had te symptoms before.
So the rest of the night I had to try and "party" but really it was just drinking sprite. I puked in one of the bars, i think the rio. Finally went to the room, only to find my good buddy who had wandered off with a lady drunk past out on the toilet? thigns must not have gone good in his night, but not as bad as mine. I then threw him out and started puking. I then tried going to bed but needed water soooo badly. I grabbed my door key and want out to the machine to get a nice cool water. It was about 3 in the morning so i just went out in my boxers and shirt.
Got the water, came back and realized I did not grab the freakin door key, but rather some fuckin discount pass to a club. My friend inside was too fuckin passed out to hear me banging on the door. Thank god I didnt need to puke or shit, but i knew it was going to come on at any moment. There was a phone on the wall so i called the office. they said they would send someone up to unlock the door. only after 15 minutes of waiting and about 5 people already passing by looking at me like "what the fuck" a buddy of mine finally came back to the room drunk as shit and opened the door. Matter of fact he walked by me, opened the door, looked at me, didnt say a word and went straight to bed. I was just happy to get inside. And then it started all over again, puking and shitting. Food poisoning sucks.
Gamecocks625
Member
daw840 said:Holy shit at the "greatest story ever told."
I just read that at work and I think the people that sit next to me think I am completely insane.
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:lol :lol Truly one of the best stories I've ever read on gaf.
Well its not a shitting your pants story but it does involve movement of the bowls. I was fresh out of college in my first big corporate job. It was like my 3rd day of training and I started to get lower stomach cramps of a kind I had never imagined, I mean like I was ready to go to the ER it was so fucking bad. New job and all I kept trying to chuff it out but finally I gave in and left the training room.
So I went down to the bathroom and after begging god to help and feeling like what I could only imagine giving birth must be like this perfectly round huge ball of shit plops out. Damn thing was so big it must have ripped me up coming out as it had a bit of blood on it. I sat there looking at it and finally curiousity got the best of me and I touched it, hard as cement.
I then did the only next logical step and broke it open, it had formed by wrapping around something I had ate it looked like tree rings once I had broke it open. Inside I found half of one of the Alegra D allergy pills I had started taking a month before, there was a white side and a yellow side and apparently my system wasn't processing the yellow side. This ball of shit now broken in half was created by this little fucking pill no bigger then my pinking just sitting in my body and wrapping poop around it over and over, crazy just crazy.
So I went down to the bathroom and after begging god to help and feeling like what I could only imagine giving birth must be like this perfectly round huge ball of shit plops out. Damn thing was so big it must have ripped me up coming out as it had a bit of blood on it. I sat there looking at it and finally curiousity got the best of me and I touched it, hard as cement.
I then did the only next logical step and broke it open, it had formed by wrapping around something I had ate it looked like tree rings once I had broke it open. Inside I found half of one of the Alegra D allergy pills I had started taking a month before, there was a white side and a yellow side and apparently my system wasn't processing the yellow side. This ball of shit now broken in half was created by this little fucking pill no bigger then my pinking just sitting in my body and wrapping poop around it over and over, crazy just crazy.
when I was 5, I crapped in the public pool.
It felt uncomfortable so I proceeded to remove the logs from my swimming suit. Said logs floated on the surface of the water and the pool was swiftly evacuated to the screaming face of countless horrified people.
My mom had to appologize with the extreme embarassment.
To this day, every time I speak to her about the event, she gets very mad.
It felt uncomfortable so I proceeded to remove the logs from my swimming suit. Said logs floated on the surface of the water and the pool was swiftly evacuated to the screaming face of countless horrified people.
My mom had to appologize with the extreme embarassment.
To this day, every time I speak to her about the event, she gets very mad.
diffusionx
Gold Member
Gamecocks625 said:
On GAF? Holy shit, ever. I am glad we have big cubicles here because I was holding in laughs for the past 10 minutes. I had to stop 3 or 4 times to catch my breath.
strikeselect
You like me, you really really like me!
This thread is awesome.
Ela Hadrun
Probably plays more games than you
YYZ said:
I am reading this with rapt attention, and my husband is kind of disgusted for me for looking.
This doesn't HAPPEN to me, though. I guess you guys can't just think, "hey, while I'm sitting down peeing here, might as well see if any shit comes out"
Also, when I was just out of diapers, I pooped on the floor of the linen closet. I don't remember this. No one knows why.
boutrosinit
Street Fighter IV World Champion
I once had a nasty turbulence in my arse - I can't remember from what and found myself in London's busy Camden Market.
It got to the point of making me sweat to keep it in, and I tried to hold on till I got home - I HATE shitting in public places - but I couldn't.
I got really gassy and had to let a few farts rip, then one became a SHART and my undercrackers were soiled. A pre-victory dance ensued by my feces, as the bastards got one of their agents into my underpants.
Cue a marathon sprint to the nearest, VILE public toilet. Luckily, the toilet I needed had JUST BEEN CLEANED.
I sat down and let rip. I examined my underpants and noticed the shit had not penetrated through to my jeans entirely. I threw away the underpants, wiped myself clean and hurried home to wash my jeans.
Horrible. But sadly amusing.
It got to the point of making me sweat to keep it in, and I tried to hold on till I got home - I HATE shitting in public places - but I couldn't.
I got really gassy and had to let a few farts rip, then one became a SHART and my undercrackers were soiled. A pre-victory dance ensued by my feces, as the bastards got one of their agents into my underpants.
Cue a marathon sprint to the nearest, VILE public toilet. Luckily, the toilet I needed had JUST BEEN CLEANED.
I sat down and let rip. I examined my underpants and noticed the shit had not penetrated through to my jeans entirely. I threw away the underpants, wiped myself clean and hurried home to wash my jeans.
Horrible. But sadly amusing.
Two stories:
1) Olestra. Holy fuck. My first (and last) experience with this laxative-in-disguise was in Florida. I'm from Canada so the thought of eating WHATEVER I WANTED without putting on any fat excited me. I consumed huge amounts of Olestra laced ice cream and chips the day I arrived. That evening we went out to a restaurant. Midway through dinner I experienced a massive rumbling in my stomach. I knew that I needed a toilet ASAP. I ran to the bathroom. After sitting down I unleashed what can only be described as the sound of an AK47. Ratta tat ratta tat tat bam bam bam bam bam. Over and over again for like 3 minutes. My ass sounded like it turned into a machine gun. This was only the first part - nothing came out! Confused, I pulled up and returned to the table. I returned to the bathroom minutes later to unleash the Olestra beast waiting inside me.
2) Norwalk Virus. I contracted this nasty virus at the end of my honeymoon. Basically I sat on the toilet off and on for about 3 hours... with a bucket infront of me because I was vomiting at the same time.
1) Olestra. Holy fuck. My first (and last) experience with this laxative-in-disguise was in Florida. I'm from Canada so the thought of eating WHATEVER I WANTED without putting on any fat excited me. I consumed huge amounts of Olestra laced ice cream and chips the day I arrived. That evening we went out to a restaurant. Midway through dinner I experienced a massive rumbling in my stomach. I knew that I needed a toilet ASAP. I ran to the bathroom. After sitting down I unleashed what can only be described as the sound of an AK47. Ratta tat ratta tat tat bam bam bam bam bam. Over and over again for like 3 minutes. My ass sounded like it turned into a machine gun. This was only the first part - nothing came out! Confused, I pulled up and returned to the table. I returned to the bathroom minutes later to unleash the Olestra beast waiting inside me.
2) Norwalk Virus. I contracted this nasty virus at the end of my honeymoon. Basically I sat on the toilet off and on for about 3 hours... with a bucket infront of me because I was vomiting at the same time.
Is there anything worse then getting sick and having to use the restroom at Walmart? I rarely go to that evil place but if I have to I avoid going anywhere near their "restrooms". One time I had to repeatedly use them within a 20min time frame I was so ill, I must have taken ten showers that day I felt so dirty after using them.
Otherwise during a movie, I didn't want to miss anything so I waited, then the restroom was packed after so 25 minutes to get home I decided I could handle that. Ten mins from home its getting really bad so I tell my sister to step on it. I have the car door ajar as we pull up her driveway, all I'm waiting for is my sister to unlock the house door, I turn around and she is in panic mode. "I cant find the keys" I'm like WTF, aren't they attached to your car keys, you just turned them off!? No I separated them and I cant find them in my purse. Fifteen minutes of me begging her to hurry and her telling me I am making her nervous and I should go in backyard lol, she finally finds them under the car seat. To this day I'm not quite sure I forgave her for that. :lol
Otherwise during a movie, I didn't want to miss anything so I waited, then the restroom was packed after so 25 minutes to get home I decided I could handle that. Ten mins from home its getting really bad so I tell my sister to step on it. I have the car door ajar as we pull up her driveway, all I'm waiting for is my sister to unlock the house door, I turn around and she is in panic mode. "I cant find the keys" I'm like WTF, aren't they attached to your car keys, you just turned them off!? No I separated them and I cant find them in my purse. Fifteen minutes of me begging her to hurry and her telling me I am making her nervous and I should go in backyard lol, she finally finds them under the car seat. To this day I'm not quite sure I forgave her for that. :lol
BakedPigeon
Banned
HOLY FUCKTON at the greatest story every told. That man deserves a golf clap.
Mohonky
Member
mre said:
Having seen this in the past, I have to say, this guy deserves a medal. These athletes push themselves so hard that something has to give, it's just physiology and it's happen to plenty of athletes in the past. The fact these boys and girls just mentally block out the pain and keep going is extraordinary. I couldn't do it.
I don't think I can ever come close to the Greatest Story Ever Told ^, but I have had a couple of near misses..
When my wife and I were still in the dating phase we had gone on a date or something and were on a 20-30 minute drive back to her house. About 5 minutes through I started to feel some warning signs that not everything was ok. By about 10-15 minutes in, I was in agony and trying to pinch off and think of happier times: times that I had access to a bathroom. By this time I believe I was driving about 80-85 MPH on some back roads where the speed limit was 45 MPH. I'm not really sure how fast I was going because the only thing I could think about was getting there before I crapped my pants and it seeped into my car seat where I'd smell it forever.
After several times of the agony coming and going, I'm pulling in their house and no one but her grandmother is home as she was watching the house (keep in mind my wife didn't have a key for some reason). Also, keep in mind that her grandmother walks very, very slowly. So I'm ringing it for what seemed like a minute and no sign of activity so I thought maybe her grandmother fell asleep and was sleeping through the commotion. At this point, I said "she has 10 seconds before I run to your backyard and crap behind the house!" So we're standing at the front of the house ringing the doorbell constantly and her grandmother comes to the door and I almost knock her down and am sprinting down the hall to the bathroom where I peel off my pants and am making the plunge to the toilet in one motion as the agony is released. I remember being in there for a good 20 minutes with a constant stream coming out. That's it, no throwing up at the same time and I didn't quite mess my pants but I do think I left some tracks in there from some seepage.
When my wife and I were still in the dating phase we had gone on a date or something and were on a 20-30 minute drive back to her house. About 5 minutes through I started to feel some warning signs that not everything was ok. By about 10-15 minutes in, I was in agony and trying to pinch off and think of happier times: times that I had access to a bathroom. By this time I believe I was driving about 80-85 MPH on some back roads where the speed limit was 45 MPH. I'm not really sure how fast I was going because the only thing I could think about was getting there before I crapped my pants and it seeped into my car seat where I'd smell it forever.
After several times of the agony coming and going, I'm pulling in their house and no one but her grandmother is home as she was watching the house (keep in mind my wife didn't have a key for some reason). Also, keep in mind that her grandmother walks very, very slowly. So I'm ringing it for what seemed like a minute and no sign of activity so I thought maybe her grandmother fell asleep and was sleeping through the commotion. At this point, I said "she has 10 seconds before I run to your backyard and crap behind the house!" So we're standing at the front of the house ringing the doorbell constantly and her grandmother comes to the door and I almost knock her down and am sprinting down the hall to the bathroom where I peel off my pants and am making the plunge to the toilet in one motion as the agony is released. I remember being in there for a good 20 minutes with a constant stream coming out. That's it, no throwing up at the same time and I didn't quite mess my pants but I do think I left some tracks in there from some seepage.
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