A Game Of Turds (TMI, y'think?)

…so the whole thing starts in midconversation when she asks me just what things there ARE that guys discuss that they won’t discuss with women around.

“Lots of things,” I said. “Hell, I know for a fact there are things women won’t discuss with men around.”

“So how do you know about them?” she asked archly.

“Because INDIVIDUAL women will discuss various things with men, depending on the woman in question and the man in question. Happens all the time. I’m not sayin’ there are any Great Deep Man-Secrets out there; I’m just sayin’ there are things men generally don’t discuss with women.”

“Mm-hm,” she said. “The words ‘deep’ and ‘men’ don’t necessarily belong in the same sentence, dear. What things, precisely, do men discuss with each other that they don’t discuss with women? Or are you afraid the Man Club will come after you if you break the Law Of Silence?”

“Honey, it’s not like that at all,” I said. “There’s things that even the dumbest man knows better than to bring up with women around.”

“Mm-hm,” she said again with that yeah-right look on her face. “Name one.”

“Well,” I said, “there was the time that old roommate of mine was lighting his own farts and set his pants on fire. That’s not something you generally share on a date.”

“Mm-hm,” she said. “And you posted that one on half the internet. It’s safe to assume that women would see it there.”

“Well, it’s not the same thing,” I said, feeling a bit persecuted. “It’s text, and it’s the internet, it’s not spouting off over lunch and coffee with the people at work.”

“Mm-hm. And I personally know you’ve used that story to get more than a few free drinks over the years, and I sincerely doubt you restricted yourself to male listeners.”

I said nothing. She had me there.

“So, precisely, what are these things that men don’t discuss with women? Even the dumbest men?”

…and then, it came to me. “When was the last time a man – a male friend or roommate, for example – yelled at you from the bathroom, ‘COME AND LOOK AT THIS!’ ?”

She looked at me. “Huh?”

**“Come and look at this,” ** I cried, falling into character. "This thing is fraggin’ HUGE! Must be TWO FEET LONG, at least!"

She looked at me quizzically, still not getting it.

*“So whaddaya want me to come look at?” * I replied to my own question.
**“Come look at THIS!” ** I cried, answering myself.
*“What am I coming to look at?” * I said, pantomiming reading a newspaper.
"You GOTTA come see this, man!" ** I answered myself again. ** "I ain’t gonna flush it until you’ve SEEN this motherhonker!"

A look of slow, horrified comprehension crept across her face, as I gestured and jabbered at her.

“Man, I’ve SEEN a turd before,” I said, still pantomiming the newspaper.
**“Man, you AIN’T seen THIS one!” ** I cried, filled with enthusiasm and pride. "Man, you could sell ADMISSION to see THIS one!"
“You sayin’ your turds are that impressive, huh?” I said, still reading my paper.
"Dude, THIS one IS!" I burbled, gesturing frantically. "GET UP! You have GOT to come SEE this thing!"

She stared at me, refusing to believe, refusing to relinquish that one thing left her to cling to, to save her sanity… but it was eroding, slowly, as I watched. She’s heard some of the stories about my old college days.

So I continued.

*“You ain’t gonna flush it until I come and look, are you?” * I said, irritably folding my imaginary newspaper.
**“I don’t think I CAN flush it,” ** I said, suddenly doubtful. "I mean, I can flush, but I’m pretty sure it won’t go DOWN!"
“Man, break it up with the damn toilet brush,” I said, putting aside my newspaper and rising from my imaginary recliner.
**“Dude, I keep telling you, this is NO ordinary log,” ** I said, with some trepidation. "I mean, we may need to send a crew in with wet suits and chainsaws."
*“Yeah, yeah, heard it before,” * I said. *“Every guy says his is bigger–” * I stopped short as I sauntered into the imaginary restroom. I glanced down. My eyes bugged. I blinked four times. “Holy SHAT!”
**“That’s what I TOLD you, man!” ** I said, filled with pride once more.
“Daaaaaaamn…” I said, in tones of awe. “Jeez… we’re talkin’ force ten MagnoTurd, here, dude.”

She made a strangled hsnnsnkkkk! sound, the sound a small giggle might make if it were not quite able to escape from a woman paralyzed with mind-numbing horror.

**“I TOLD you, man! This one is MAJOR!” ** I said, proud yet reproachful of the unbeliever.
“Ghod, it’s … it’s Turdzilla.”
"I TOLD you, man!"
“Um… damn, guy, what are we gonna DO with it? I mean, I’m pretty sure it won’t go down, all sideways like that.”
**“I dunno,” ** I said with a crazy grin. "I been thinkin’ about fishin’ it out and having it mounted. You know, like on a wooden plaque?"
“Hm,” I replied thoughtfully. "So that way, you could actually display ‘The One That Got Away.’ "
**“Hey,” ** I said. "GOOD one, dude!"
“Yeah, but I really don’t wanna live in the same house with a shellacked turd, guy,” I said. “And more importantly, I don’t wanna be The Roommate Of The Guy With The Grand Champion Trophy Turd. Deal with your newborn as you see fit.” I turned to leave.
"Yeah, all right," I replied, a little disappointed. "Man, do you believe something THAT big came out of ME? And women gripe about givin’ BIRTH and stuff, man…"
“Yeah, but you had it a little easier,” I snapped back. “The ends of THAT thing are POINTED.”

…and at that point, she finally gave way.

It was kind of interesting to see. I mean, I’ve never actually seen anyone laughing themself sick while looking like they wanted to throw up, the whole time, you know? And it went on for quite some time, finally dying down to a rapid-fire series of bugeyed, horrified giggles.

Women, be warned. Us guys will sometimes go to extremes to win an argument, you know?

And we have secrets that you weren’t really interested to know about anyway. Trust me on this one…

What is it with men, turning into junior high school boys when bathroom humor is involved? My younger brother used to belong to a fraternity that had turd measuring contests on the weekends. It got so they developed diets designed to deliver the maximum payload, so to speak. To this day, he’s still proud of his achievements.

bwhahahahaahahahahahahahahaha that is the funniest thing I’ve read in a looooooong time! Now… where’s lieu when you need him?
BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAA!!

Max.

My son is 31/2 years old, and he sometimes demands that I take a picture of his turds. I am thankful for my digital camera at times like those. I really don’t want to receive the ascance looks from the hacks at one hour photo.

I gotta give the kid some kudos though…He’s had some that are practically periscopes.

NurseCarmen, how did that little tradition get started?

…turd measuring contests?

Okay, now THAT’s pretty &%#$ extreme. I knew there was a reason I never joined a frat.

Betcha anything that tape-measuring and weighing-in were done by the pledges…

Y’know, Master Wang-Ka, my boyfriend does that to me all the time. Though I’ve assured him many a time that I don’t actually need to look, I’m very impressed with it anyway, and go ahead and flush, dear.

Hm.

It would seem that the next generation of men was even stupider than we were…

Mommy was gone when he went #2 on the big boy potty the first time. I told him we should wait to flush it, so we could show mommy. But the urge to flush and wave bye-bye was too overwhelming (we had been doing this to ours as a potty training ploy…parenthood is grand, aint it?) Creative thinking in high pressure situations to diffuse possible negative situations. I put that on a resume once. It turns out I wasn’t full of…ummm…it.

Wang-ka, you are the master.

You are absolutely friggin hilarious

Must be a male bonding thing that’s genetic. About a year after my son was finally out of diapers he started getting mighty proud of his bowel accomplishments. We’d still tell him “Good job” and he would beam at us. He was truly awestruck one day when he wandered into the bathroom right as I was finishing up but before I flushed. “Wow, Dad, that’s BIG,” he said, thinking I must really be proud. “Uh, yeah,” I replied, “Stand back, it might bite you.” Before I could flush it he asked innocently “Can I poop on your poop, Dad?”
hesitate
“Sure, son, knock yourself out. Don’t forget to wipe good and flush.”

Truly a father-son moment.

…am I the only one who’s noticed how the guys – aside from myself – seem to be stayin’ the hell out of this thread?

It’s a moment alright…

So… did any of you turdmeisters ever turn your excrement green for St. Patrick’s Day? It can be done, ya know – just drink a fairish amount of creme de menthe and your brown bomber will have a lovely green patina. :smiley:

The dye from grape soda will do that too. About 3-4 cans of the stuff oughtta get you green in the extreme. Another tidbit of information passed on from my dad.

All I need to do for that effect is eat a couple of bowls of Fruit Loops.

Go figure.

Switzer’s licorice, in sufficient quantities, imparts a Da-Glo green color to the, uh, end-product. A fact I discovered by accident after consuming most of a one-pound bag in a single evening. I seriously considered talking to my doctor, thinking I had come down with some unusual intestinal disorder, before making the cause-and-effect connection.

The man speaks the truth. Some of us even learned the Man-Secret in adolescence.

(You might have to scroll down to my post, 2/3 down page 1, as I’m not sure how to make it appear automatically.)

Yeah… now that you mention it, I’d noticed the same effect a few months ago. Emerald green turds. BRIGHT, too!

Took me a while to figure it out. We’d gotten some chocolate syrup that was part of an Incredible Hulk promotion, and happened to be bright green. I’d used it to make some rather interestingly-colored chocolate milk…

…but had completely forgotten about the milk when I noticed my turds were glowing a fiery verdant color, like Homer Simpson radioactive nuclear rods…

Oh sure, now that the direction turns to technicolor turd stories the guys come crawling out of the woodwork. Soon I expect we’ll have recipes for making every color from crimson to majestic purple.

Bring 'em on!