Jesus, I really need to preview.
The outhouse was 50 yards away although the walk felt like 50 years…
Ok once we went to a wine festival sponsored by a local winery. It was hot. I was thirsty. I drank about 2 bottles of wine. Did I mention I don’t drink very often. Nearly every time I do no good comes of it.
Soon I was having to be dragged knee-walking sdrunk back to the car to be allowed to sleep a bit while the others went back to the festival. My husband returned to find me in a wine stained t shirt, covered in wine colored puke with tight jeans full of wine colored shit. Of course I was so upset by my predicament I cried the whole way home, a 30 minute trip. I was dragged, rolled and coerced out of the car, up the stairs and into the shower all the while alternating between crying, puking and simultaeously crapping myself. Did you know that wine has a laxative effect. I know that now.
Have I ever crapped myself. I have no clear recollection of that.
I can’t believe I’m doing this…
Many years ago, a few months after I started my job at the hospital lab, I caught an incredibly vicious gastrointestinal virus. I barely made it back to my apartment before the fireworks began. I was liberally vomitting when the diarrhea began. Eeesh. Fortunately, or not, I lived alone. No witnesses. However this scenario did present some logistical problems. I ended up on the commode while throwing up into the bathtub. Every half-hour for the rest of the night I crawled from my bed to the bathroom.
Ah, memories.
[sub]I deny I ever said any of this.[/sub]
Having worked internationally in some third world hell-holes, I am well familiar with the cold sweat, fist-grabbing-gut, churning, gurgling feelings of the poor sod who is about to dump a load in his/her britches. I’ll spare you my details…the best story I ever heard was the young lady in the Peace Corp who arrived home at an American airport with her gut laden with souvenirs. Filled with an overwhelming urge, she was unable to locate a bathroom in time. Fortunately, she was wearing a long skirt and there was one of those cylindrical garbage cans nearby. She knocked the top off the garbage can, mounted it with her skirt over it, and blew it out her ass as the crowd flowed around her.
I know people who claim to have done the “butt on toilet, face over tub” maneuver. I’ve had enough wet ones to be able to discern when one is coming. Here’s my best story:
One day a few years back, I wanted to go to do some shopping near Tyson’s Corner. I didn’t have a car yet, so I took the bus. At the time I lived on the #2 line, half of those go to Tyson’s Corner Mall, the other half to Fair Oaks Mall. The trip from home to Tyson’s is an hour by bus; about half-way into the trip I felt my bowel move. I knew I wasn’t going to make it to the mall, so I started thinking of where else I could go to relieve myself. I realized that there was a Toys “R” Us not far from one of the last stops before the mall. I got off the bus, hoping that I could make it there in time. I was doing fine until I bent over to drop my pants. This resulted in extra pressure that I just could not hold. I had hoped that I managed to get everything in the bowl, but when I was finished I saw that I had instead sprayed some on the wall behind me. Not wanting to leave such a mess behind, I cleaned as best I could.
- unforeseen laxative effect of cardamom + long walk = unpleasant surprise. 'nuff said.
This is so therapeutic isn’t it?
Yup, been there! Don’t wanna go into details!
I was about 27 ot 28 at the time…
'nuff said!
Look, after having my gallbladder removed, my system functions as it chooses. I’ve since learned to read the warning signals. Anything beyond that is decidedly TMI… I’ve got a reputation to consider, fercryinoutloud!
It’s not my fault… I’ve been surgically altered… <sigh>
A friend and I in 9th grade were trying out for JV football and going over to the high school (our 9th grade was in junior high) after school everyday to work out.
Neither of us could get a ride to the HS one day so we decided we’d walk the 3 miles and try and get rides home.
At about mile 2.5 I was becoming quite aware of an urgent requirement from below. I mentioned it and he admitted that he too had to back one out. When we got to the highschool property we were about equal distance between the main school and the auditorium which was a seperate building. The auditorium was slightly closer so we headed that direction.
I had to stop walking every once in a while an fight it. The more I walked the more I had to dump. It was torture.
When we got about 50 yards from the building, my buddy started running toward it… I kept my fast walk pace with my eye on the target trying not to think about anything but holding it back for 2 more minutes.
My buddy hit the building, bouncing off the locked doors and bolted back toward the main building without even taking enough time to curse.
As for me, I didn’t have a prayer. I was saying the word and committing the act simultaneously. All it took was seeing that guy spinning off the locked doors for my body to take over and say its over.
Obviously I wasn’t about to walk into the locker room with a load in my pants, so I made an about face and began a 3 mile walk to my house. The only thing worse than shitting your pants is walking 3 miles in them.
Have I ever mentioned that I am severely lactose intolerant?
Did you know that one of the effects of lactose intolerance can be sudden, violent diarrhea?
Did you know that the bastards that create foodstuffs in this country put whey (lactose) in just about ** everything** because it’s a cheap form of sugar?
I hate Beatrice Foods!
I sort of did. I just had a little bit of poop juice in my pants, but then it turned into a projectile pooping catastrophe I didn’t know was humanly possible. I was driving around in that sphincter clenching, sweaty brow, rumbling intestines panic. Got to a gas station bathroom just in time to drop the bomb in the toilet. All was fine, or so I thought.
Went out from there, met some friends at a bar. Ordered a white russian. Don’t know if it was the cream, or the vodka, but after I had about half of it, my ass revolted. I still hold a grudge against it to this day. For some ungodly reason (Why do you taunt me, god?) This bar I was in only had one bathroom, THREE FLOORS DOWN. Jesus F-N Christ, I go flying down the stairs, thinking someone just set off an M-80 in my colon. I get to the floor that the bathroom is on, go full speed down the hall to the bathroom, do the “trying to unbuckle, unbutton, and unzip” dance. Before I can even sit down, there goes Old Faithful. I sprayed the wall behind the toilet (yes, I cleared the toilet entirely) a good four feet away. With enough force to have considerable splashback. After I was done, I spent some serios time cleaning up and went back to join my friends. Never told them about it.
I am sorry!:o I am sorry!:o I am sorry!:o I am sorry!:o I am sorry!:o I am sorry!:o I am sorry!:o I am sorry!:o I am sorry!:o I am sorry!:o I am sorry!:o I am sorry!:o I am sorry!:o I am sorry!:o
Aha: Please acknowledge my apology, or I will be forced to repeat this ad nauseum and take up precious band width!
Thanks,
Quasi
Ahh, the “turnaround dumper”. A phenomenon I’ve yet to experience but have witnessed in action in several Chicago bar bathrooms.
My shit-my-pants story is pretty mild compared to some of those, but hey! It’s for a good cause - making aha feel better. So, here goes:
I was visiting my then-boyfriend in New York City for the weekend. We had eaten some highly dubious Chinese food for lunch, then took a walk on the Mall in Central Park. I was walking around snapping pictures when I felt a stomach cramp, and decided what the hell, no one is close by, let one fly. It was a little poot followed by…a squirt. Not much, but enough to alarm me. Oh my god, I crapped my pants! So I grabbed the boyfriend and hailed a taxi, then told him to roll down the windows. Luckily, the cabbie smelled pretty bad, so my little secret was safe. I told my boyfriend I had gotten my period, ran back to the apartment, and threw the undies away wrapped up in toilet paper. Oh! The shame!
The best part is the picture I snapped whilst pants-shitting is really shaky.
Instance 1
Scene: Seoul, Korea
After a lavish bulgogi dinner, I was walking a new teacher to her apartment. About halfway there, I started experiencing serious gastrointestinal discomfort. As we walked along, my efforts to contain the flood failed and I started a slow, liquid leak from the back ** while I was walking next to the new teacher**. Luckily, it wasn’t too smelly, so I don’t think she noticed, or if she did, had too much class to notice, but God, was I embarrassed.
Instance 2
Scene: India, The latenight sleeper train from Calcutta to Varanasi
I had been struggling with the runs since my second day in India, and with the help of some pills, i thought i had the problem licked. I ordered dinner from the train steward: some dal, vegetable pickle, rice, a chapatti, and some yogurt. It tasted good and went down well, but three hours later, I experienced a volcanic push from my lower intestine and sprinted to the toilet, which I discovered was a hole in the floor of the bathroom. I lowered my trou to find a warm, steaming heap in my jockeys. No sooner had I finsihed crapping than I started puking my toenails up. Then I had to crap again, then puke and then at the same time. It was horrible. By the time the train pulled into the station at Varanasi, I was literally bent over in agony, and I told the
auto rickshaw guys I’d double the rate if one would take me to a hotel where I could get a doctor ASAP.
Quasi… I am not sure why one was needed, but please be advised that your apology is accepted.
Puddin’ Pants Episode One
Senior Year of College, no other known risk factors present
I was walking down the street on the way to study in the library in college. Decided I’d let one fly. Apparently I had an unknown case of diarrhea. Needless to say, I headed right back home to change my drawers. Decided to study in the dorm after all. My biggest beef with that incident was that I was paranoid that as I passed people on the street they’d be able to smell my poopiness.
Puddin’ Pants Episode Two
August 1998, shortly after finishing America’s Finest City Half Marathon.
Did you know that running sometimes makes you need to poo? I didn’t…until that day. I was horribly undertrained, so the race experience was miserable anyway. On the way out of the finish area, I realized I was going to need to hit a bathroom soon. As we walked, it just got worse and worse. Stupidly I decided to relieve the pressure by passing a little gas. Wrong. I think the smilie face :eek: says it all. I immediately went up to the people I carpooled with and said “We need to go. Now.” Hopped in the truck, got home, peeked on the seat as I got out to make sure I left no trace. I did confess to the driver later, but I knew at the time to keep my mouth shut - the truck was new, and if he knew what kind of heat I was packing…I’d have been walking home.
I was 8 months pregnant and in college during my incident so I blame my shitty pants story on being pregnant! I had stood up and leaned over to pick up my back pack and when I did I ripped a huge fart. Everyone turned around and looked at me and the more I moved the more I farted. I stood up and just kind of laughed it off and then I realized that as I had shit my pants as I was farting. Thank goodness I was wearing granny panties. If I would have had on my regular bikini panties it would have been going down my leg probably. I went to the bathroom and cleaned up, threw my dirty granny panties away and went back to class. That’s the only time I remember shitting my pants. I was always farting though… that didn’t shock anyone!
“Ever shit your pants?”
I suppose we all have dude, you know the diaper brigade. & it felt great doing it back then.
Can’t say as I have as an adult. Close, though.
Come on handy don’t hedge…you can tell us we are your friends.