I was incontinent at Sears

Well sorta. I rushed in to a stall there sat down and pulled down my pants. Apparently not far enough cause the whities were still up by the commode part when I started pissing. Peed right into the crotch of my tighties. I had to undress, pull off the shorts, get dressed again, rinse them in the sink, dry them with the hand blow dryer and stuff them in my back pocket. I then stroll out feeling rather mcgyver like to shop for a big screen TV. Wound up buying a craftsman ratchit wrench that didn’t work. Friggin Bob Vila.

Please say you have done something this stupid too. Lie if you have to.

My sister was incontinent in a far more unpleasant way right outside Sears just a few weeks ago.

Shit happens. :smiley:

(sorry, couldn’t resist!)

I’ve been incontent in Sears too. Friggin overpriced lotions and cosmetics and things; you figure you’re getting a good deal because it’s a discount place, but it just ain’t so. Then they go playing that DAMN Christina HAGulera song over and over and over and over and over…

Never mind.

Seriously, though, I do stupid stuff like that all the time, and so does most everyone else, if it makes ya feel better.
There’s one clothing store where every friggin time I go in there, I get the overwhelming urge…I dunno-maybe they have shitty clothes or something? (be here all week folks! :smiley: )
Anyway, they have no restroom, so I have to do the clenchwalk back to my car and run every yellow light to get home.
At least Sears HAD a restroom!

Here’s my story…

Once I had diarrhea. I left home in the morning and was nearing the nearby mall that I sometimes pass through to get to the metro… when I realized I had to go again. Turning back was not an option; neither was holding it, as it takes me an hour to get to work. So I went into the washroom at the mall.

There was only one stall and it had a sign on it saying out of order.

I didn’t care.

But the door was locked from the inside, so I had to crawl underneath.

So I squatted and quickly shat, then put my coat back on and flushed.

The toilet exploded :eek:, overflowing with cack water and toilet paper and it was all about hit the floor. (Hence the “out of order” sign.)

I shoved my bag under the stall door, then had to crawl back out really fast.

Luckily I escaped the looming eau de toilette in time to get out of the stall.

I washed my hands and ran.

Always a fun way to start the day.

  • s.e.

Never any actual incontinence (yet? :frowning: ), but everytime I try to shop at HMV or the video rental place I have to pee really really badly. It happens even when I make a point to go before leaving the house. Some really weird pyschological thing going on there, I’m sure. Luckily the video place is across the street from my house, so I can go home, and HMV is near a public restroom. Whew!

Well, I sued to have a paper route, and I don’t know what it is about the rain, but every time it was raining outside (heavily or not), I REALLY had to go pee! Maybe it was the effect of all the water droplets raining down on and around me… luckily, I never peed my pants! (I leanred that there were some nice people that would let you use their bathrooms… :wink: ) :eek: (though there was the time I had diarrhea, but that’s another story…)

There was this time several years ago that my family went to one of the local malls right after eating at the local Knight & Day restaurant. Once inside, we all split up; about 45 minutes later, my sister found me and said that our brother had managed to puke inside an (luckily) empty box at what was then the WHSmith store! :eek: (books and all that, kinda like Chapters/Coles/Barnes & Noble, etc.) The cashier saw him do that, too! Luckily there wasn’t a long line of people waiting to buy stuiff! We figured he had gotten food poisoning from the restaurant food or something.

Speaking of having to go, I better do so now before I provide more fodder for this thread! :eek: (is it just me, or do the threads I’m reading have an effect on my bodily functions, eating, life, etc.?)

Twas late January, and I had just returned to grad school in
California after a six-week winter break in Kansas. Because I
had had a crappy New Year’s Eve (watching rental movies with my
crabby sister, sans alcohol of any kind), the BF and I had
planned a belated New Year celebration upon my return to Cali,
complete with fancy-schmancy dinner, champagne, etc.

We went to dinner at a lovely little place on the water with
expensive food and much ambiance. I ordered pasta with seafood
and a rich, rich cream sauce and scarfed it down gleefully. By
the middle of desert, however, my pasta was beginning to churn
in unsavory ways below my ribcage…

After dinner, we went by a liquor store to pick up champagne,
and by the time we hit the checkout line, I was having so much
intestinal pain that it was all I could do to stand upright. It
subsided after a few moments and, thinking it was gone for good,
I agreed to a moonlight stroll along the bay with my beau.

About a block into the stroll, the pain returned, accompanied by
poots that I swore must be causing 2nd degree burns to my butt
cheeks. I kept reaching back to make sure that a hole hadn’t
been singed in my pants. After awhile, I was so miserable that I
cut the stroll short and convinced my BF to take me home, saying
that I had to pee really badly.

So he dropped me off in front of my building and I ran inside
(praying that the poots I’d injected into the car seat during
the ride wouldn’t rise up and blind him when I got out) while he
parked the car. I was comfortable in the knowledge that my
trauma could still be acted out in secret, because

a) I lived in an area where parking spaces were at a premium, so
I knew it would take him 10 minutes to find a space,

b) said parking space would most likely be a 5-minute walk away
from my place, and

c) he didn’t have a key to my building, and so would have to wait
until I buzzed him in before he could enter.

So I ran upstairs and commenced the horror of expelling all of
that pasta out my back door. When I arrived at the toity and
dropped my pants, I discovered that I’d been releasing more than
just gas during our little romantic stroll!



Not only did my BF luck out and find a parking space 1/4 of a
block away in less than 30 seconds, he also found a nice person
in the lobby of my building who recognized him and let him in,
before he even got his finger NEAR my buzzer.

Meanwhile I, having completed my first round of the shits,
decided that I had to do something about my pants. Thinking I
was safe from intrusion, I hopped off the pot, wiped (alot),
flushed, and began waddling towards my bedroom with my pants
around my ankles, wondering if I should deposit my icky panties
into my laundry hamper (in my closet) or toss them out my 3rd
floor window.

At that moment, my BF (thinking it would be fun to scare me)
came bursting into my apartment (why oh why didn’t I lock the
door??)! He took one look at me, standing shocked and ass-out
with my shit-stained pants tangled around my feet, and burst out
laughing. At that point I began to try to RUN towards the
bedroom. After a 5-foot trip-and-tumble, I made it to safety.
I don’t think I’ve ever heard him laugh so hard.

Reeling in the utter humiliation and sheer hilarity of the whole
scene, I slammed the bedroom door shut. About the time I
recovered, and began getting myself together (I tied the panties
into a plastic shopping bag and threw them in the trash), I felt
a second round of the squirts coming, so I sprinted for the
bathroom once more. As soon as I was settled in for the haul,
the phone rang. My BF answered and, after the initial greetings,
I heard him saying “Cool–we’ll be there in a few minutes!”

WHAT??? Be WHERE??? When I came out of the loo once more, I
learned that my BF had kindly accepted an invitation from my
friend John and his GF to spend the evening with them! Ummm,
hel-LO… did he have NO idea what was going on with my toot

Rather than discuss it with him, I went along. We rented Pink
(which is the most horrid movie I’ve ever seen), and I
spent the entire movie dashing into John’s john for squirts of
pasta and gulps of Pepto Bismol (separate ends). I found out later that John and his GF had gotten into a little mutually accusatory tiff afterwards about who drank all the Pepto.

I didn’t even get any champagne. :frowning:

OMG auntie em that was friggin’ hilarious!

Reminds me of this tale… :smiley:

  • s.e.

[Eve peers into this thread through her lorgnette, then does her “appalled society dowager fainting into the arms of Groucho Marx” imitation]

I was incontinent at Kmart once. I was only four years old, though, so I don’t think that counts.

Damn! There I was, balled up in laughter and rolling gleefully amongst the dust mites under my desk…

…and then I read the paragraph debunking the whole story.

I’m going with it, though, I don’t care what anybody says! I believe! I BELIEVE!!! :smiley:

Careful now… while you’re unconcious, Groucho might prop your ass up in the loo next to a dead junkie…

I’m sorry to bring this up, but aha, maybe this will make you feel better.

Wait a minute! You started that thread, too! I sense a pattern, here…


So ya all think its funny huh? I suffer from irritable bowel syndrome. Some may never know the horror of that sudden pressure build up in the bowels and you only have minutes, and not very many of them, to find a restroom.

My wife and I were Christmas shopping at Bellevue Square, and trendy mall in a trendy town. About an hour after arriving, my breakfast from McDonalds decided it had seen enough of the inside of me. We were near the entrance to a Nordstroms so we decided to use the facilities there. We entered from the 1st level and found a road map of the store. There are 2 mens restroooms, one on the second and one on the third level. I go off the find the second level restroom when the pressure suddenly increased. In desparation, I ran up the escalator and straight to the restroom. I burst in only to be greeted by an elderly gentlemen sitting on a stool near the sinks. He asks what I need and I point to a stall and head for it. The first thing I notice, all 4 stall doors are closed. Full house. I figure I have maybe a minute and decide I can make the 3rd floor restroom. Out the door I fly, run up the escalator, then look for the mens room. I get to where the map showed a restroom but all I find is a storage closet. Ahhhh. Time is getting short, I am getting desparate. I find a clerk and ask her where the mens room on the 3rd floor is. She says she didn’t know there was one, but there was one on the 2nd floor. My butt cheeks were tightly clenched as I now sprinted down to the 2nd floor.

About half way down the escalator, a woman with a baby are blocking my path. The pressure gauge is in the yellow zone now. I physically hold my cheeks together to prevent any leakage. Just as the woman hits the landing, I have no choice but to attempt to relieve some of the pressure. That was all it took. I flew by the woman and ran. A squirt of liquid comes with every other step. I just hope I make the restroom before the flood hits. Back into the restroom, no old guy but there is an open stall. I pull the door open to find the old guy wiping the seat with a towel. I pulled him out, dropped my pants, WHOOOOOSH, the flood hits before the underpants go down. All I could do sit down and finish crapping.

As a former boy scout, I am almost always prepared. I take out my little Swiss army pocket knife that has the pair of scissors and cut off my shorts. I let them drop into the toilet and flush. I hope they go down and they do. I check my pants to find only a small stain the size of a quarter. Didn’t soak through, I was safe. Just then the door to the stall opens and it is the old guy. I forgot to lock it. Without even looking me in the eye, he hands me a travel pack of baby wipes and tells me to let him know if I need more. I thank him and lock the door. It took the whole pack and half a roll of toilet paper to get me clean. I felt pretty bad though. The toilet was a mess and some even made it to the floor. I opened the door to find the old guy sitting on his stool. He stood up and reached in his pocket and pulled out a brand new pair of Nordstroms scivvies, my size too. He pointed to an area near the urinals and said I could put them on there.

After washing my hands, I felt almost normal. The old guy handed me a couple of cologne samples, just in case he said, and told me to have a nice day. He also added no one was in any of the stalls the first time I was in there, the door hinges are spring loaded to keep them closed. The part that blew me away though was when I offered him a $5 tip, he refused it. I told him if I ever could afford a butler, I would hire him. He winked and said that I could never afford him. Nordstroms must pay him very very well.

Just a general warning to anyone here who may happen to visit Cades Cove in TN - don’t put your hands down into any holes in any trees … I wonder how long it takes silk undies to disintegrate when covered in bodily acids that practically leave 2nd degree burns on a person ?? :confused:

Not that I have any personal experience with this topic or anything :wink:

For the love of God you MUST tell us the story, Adoptamon!

I haven’t really been publicly incontinent, but I have completely missed the toilet and peed all over my jeans.

Why is this unusual? Mainly because a) I’m a chick and b) I was sitting on said toilet. That’s right, my urine defied the laws of physics and dodged the massive porcelain bowl centered right beneath my bits! Go me!