While me, my husband, my brother and his girlfriend were sharing some gross stories, my brother claimed that poop stories never gross him out. I challenge him on that, and I need some Doper help to prove it. Please tell me a poop story. Funny, disturbing, insane, what have you. Help me make his stomach turn!
Oh, dear Lord, Amazon, let me introduce you to lieu.
I just can’t get enough TMI pimple stories, but TMI poop stories? No thanks. I’m gettin the hell outta here.
Well, this isn’t my greatest poo-story ever, but it’s fresh.
It goes back a ways because while I really really like spicy food, I’ve found that stomach-wise I can’t really handle hot peppers anymore. I’m very regular about my “two-a-days”. I’ve got my “10 minutes after first cup of coffee shit” and my “things have just shaken loose during the day shit”.
But Thai Food, and it’s ilk, will actually wake me up in the middle of the night to shit. And, I’m talking about get-a-book, brace-for-the-pain and take-a-shower-afterwards kind of shits.
Anyway, two nights ago, my wife got Kung Pao chicken at a chinese place, while I wisely got a fried rice dish. She left town for a couple days yesterday on business and with no one to cook for or with, I had her leftover Kung Pao for dinner last night. On top of that, I had a little snack before bed.
Kung Pao’s not Thai, so it didn’t wake me up in the middle of the night, but what it did do was combine with my “10 minutes after first cup of coffee shit” this morning to give me a splashing ring-of-fire and lower GI soreness.
A real mess. The kind where you wish you had a bucket of cold milk next to the can just to dip your anus in. Fortunately, it was nice and early at work so no one came in while I was in there cleaning house.
It was also bagel day at the office, and silly me decides to go for the jalapeno bagel. So mid-morning comes around and the jalapeno starts to irritate the lower reaches of the intestines, and it’s back to the bathroom. About this time, I’m pretty sore and I’ve felt bad all day. And I’ve actually considered telling the boss I might go home (which I NEVER do).
I feel better by lunch and I’m getting a sub from a local deli. Italian Cold Cut. No sweat, right. Well, I get to eating it and I realize it has those “hots” all over it. Exhibiting the same amount of self-control I’ve shown throughout this story, I naturally plow right through the hots.
I’m back from the deli and without even returning to my office, right into the shitter. Very glad no one is in there. Well, I get to splashing and its all very soft and now has bits of the stinky cheese, the kung pao, the jalapeno bagel, and the hots from lunch if they’ve made it through yet (and I’m thinking they have because there was a ton of oil on that sub).
It’s rather painful and all very very smelly.
Now, after something like that, I sometime like to sit there and just ponder what I’ve done. I make sure the burning sensation is gone, make sure it’s all very clean, including external porceline surfaces. However, right as clean-up begins someone comes in to use the stall next to me. What I would like to do is sit there, wait for him to finish, and then do my own cleaning. Figuring it will creep him out if I sit there quietly, I start cleaning. . .and cleaning. . .and cleaning some more. Given the smell and the amout of TP I’m rippng through, I don’t know WHAT he must have been thinking.
Besides wearing distinctive shoes, I have a big belt buckle that is drooping on the ground so anyone from the office knows it’s me.
Now I was sitting there thinking, “I gotta tell the boss I’m going home.” If it wasn’t Friday – which makes it look suspicious – I would have done it.
I get back to the office, and a feeling starts rising in me again. Gotta go right now.
This one is somewhat minor, but it feels like the end of the real nasty nasties.
I figure the hots I had for lunch still aren’t all the way through, but the worst of it is over. I actually feel kind of “light” right now and I’m ready to kill time for the rest of the day.
You like hot and spicy? Let me take you and Mrs. Trunk to the Thai place near my home on Frederick Road right inside the Beltway. Hell, I’ll even buy you a pack of Scot-Tissue. 
Adam
I went through a phase where I’d challenge the people in the Thai restaurants, “make it hotter than any food you’d ever serve an American.”
“Are you sure.”
“Yes, I’m sure. You simply can’t make it too hot for me.”
I’d eat meals where I had a MAJOR endorphin release. I’d lose the heat sensations, and experience euphoria, even a honest-to-goodness perma-grin.
Then, I’d wake up in the middle of the night promising that I’d never ever do it again.
The last time I seriously challenged them I went 3 times between 6:00 and 7:00 am the next morning. That might have been over a year ago, and I felt like I’d done permanent damage to my intestines and ass.
Now, I’ll order the hot stuff on the menus, but I won’t make it personal.
If you think you like hot…
There’s this place in Sterling, VA called The Wing Factory. They have somewhere in the neighborhood of 7 different levels of hot. The hottest is so hot that if you can eat 10 of them in one sitting they will put your name on the wall.
They’ve been open for several years and there might be 30 names on the wall. The pepper they use is the Habanero, which is the same pepper that made Homer Simpson go on a vision quest to find his soul mate.
Ever had to saran-wrap your toilet bowl in order to collect the “sample” your doctor so “desperately” needs?
:rolleyes:
These are not happy times.
Between the special stick, the 3 vials filled with rank liquid, the vial toppers with the attached “spork”, and The Poop - I very nearly vomited on the whole project, which, of course, ruins the experiment.
Believe me, you do not want to start over from scratch.
::retching::
Woo Hoo! I love me some TMI stories!
Damn… I never thought to do that. I lined a bucket with a trash bag, put the lot in the bathtub & pooped into the bag. Mind you, I have IBS and rarely have firm turds. Soft stool when not submerged in or at least mixed with water is possibly the foulest, rankest, most intensly stinky form of poop on the planet. I actually tied a bandana around my head (bandit-style) for the specimen collection.
Anyhoo, I was struck with a rather nasty bout of the squirts earlier this week right before I went to bed. I was shocked by the force of the explosion from my backside. If it had been solid, I surely would have cracked the toilet. After I had finished, I cleaned myself up and went to bed.
The next morning while driving my dear husband to work, he mentioned that I needed to be sure to clean the toilet. He refused to tell me why, but assured me that I’d know as soon as I lifted the seat. Well, I’m not exactly sure how it happened, but I had managed to shite on the underside of the seat. Aside from having to clean the mess, I was embarrassed as all hell because he had to see it.
I just took 4 laxative tablets for a medical procedure I have tomorrow morning. I’ll let you know if I have any good stories.
Oooh! You should go eat some greens and beans now!
I’m sorry. I completely lied. I just can’t stay away from TMI.
There’s always the classic prehensile rectum thread
http://boards.straightdope.com/sdmb/showthread.php?s=&threadid=80957&highlight=prehensile+rectum
Years ago my then-wife came home, having stopped at the supermarket. We each had a few rolled up pieces of lebanon bologna deli while fixing dinner. Fast forward to 0200, and I’m awakened by the sound of a not quite road-killed creature which has crawled into our apartment to die. Wifey was on the throne, passing the last of her earwax when the hurls arrived. She’s got the trashcan 'tween her knees while producing an aroma which is loosening the wallpaper. As I was trying to think of something comforting to say, my abdominal floor was reached, and the intestinal elevator opened it’s doors with a resounding DING. By the time we were done, the showerhead was perhaps the only surface not shat or barfed upon, and I fell asleep wondering if a jury of my peers would acquit me for burning the apartment down rather than cleaning up the mess. :eek:
Trunk , I think you did it.
You hit my brother’s weak spot.
Seems he can withstand visual descriptions, but your colourful descriptions of smells and sensations got to him. When I showed him this thread, as he read your post, he contorted his face in a terrible grimace and said, “Awwwww…NASTY!!”
A poo story has never gotten that kind of reaction out of him.
Good going!!
I think I’ll pass on any aromatic cheeses for awhile…we REALLY NEED a barfing smiley!
ROTFLMAO! Good God, lieu ! You could write a book!
Once when I was 12 or 13 my mom gave me this laxative on Friday and told me that it wouldn’t START working until Saturday morning so when my friend called me a few hours later and asked if I wanted to go to the movies, I said “yes”. So his dad comes and picks me up and we had to make a few stops before being dropped off at the theatre, the thing was that after 20 minutes of riding around in the car the laxative started kicking in.
I was sitting in the back seat squeezing my butt cheeks together and just getting mad because his dad kept messing around and breaking all hard and by the time we got to the theatre and get out of the car I farted and pooped my pants, so I ran into the theatre right past the ticket taker without a ticket and went into the restroom and got on the toilet. When I looked at my underwear they were filled with wet drippy poop, not skidmarks, poop. I took off the underwear and wrapped them up in toilet paper and threw them in the trash.
As soon as I left the theatre my friend is wondering why I ditched him and the ticket taker is asking me if intended on not paying for a ticket. :smack:
In my 16 years of being potty trained, I have not pooped in my pants. <Furiously knocking on wood.>
Last night after I took the laxatives, I went out and got an Italian club sandwich. I had a couple high-speed dumps, but otherwise everything seems pretty normal. I haven’t even gone that much.
lieu, I actually have the “what” thread bookmarked, for my cousin who is a hunter.