Quote of the day, Ladies and Gentlemen!
I am so posting that on my cube wall!
A few years back I was working with a bunch of people, most of whom were quite young. (Overwhelmingly MIT and Harvard undergrads.) Someone brought a new person into the group, a woman who was probably 55 or 60. She was a bit overweight, wore far too much makeup (it looked like a mask), and was a bit overbearing and unpleasant. At the very moment she introduced herself, someone nearby let out the queen mother of stinky farts. I mean, this thing had teeth, legs, and a mailing address. Perhaps subconsciously, I attributed to the new woman, and thought “Great, she’s incontinent.”
I will forever associate her with a poopy smell.
takes a bow(el movement)
I hadn’t realized there was such a thing.
Someone I know tangentially refers to The Rumbling as a “duece emergency,” or shortened, DE.
Thank you for this. I read this a few years ago, and had forgotten where to find it.
I also offer up an acronym I use frequently: CFWC (Cannot Fart with Confidence). Occurs when all available pre-poop gasses have been expelled, and the next “release” is gonna be a solid.
And often, not solid…
Is trouser chili a solid?
Beans or no beans?
Amended to add “or liquid”. My apologies.
Awesome story! Reminds me of my honeymoon.
/is glad her honeymoon involved no Poop Emergencies
A student once emailed to tell me that he’d “had diarrhea on the freeway.”
I still don’t know if he had it in his car or out on the asphalt. I really don’t need to know, though.
My dept. head once felt it necessary to say that he’d seen a diarrhea trail in the hallway that led into the men’s bathroom.
Does college cause diarrhea or what?
You must not eat in the cafeteria a lot.
That is one of the most amazing stories I’ve ever read, up there with some of Scylla’s. I couldn’t breathe I was laughing so hard. Thank you so much for sharing that.
<wipes tear> I love you guys.
I think college DOES cause diarrhea, because one of my two shart stories (which I posted in the “ever shit your pants?” thread) took place in college.
I think I would die laughing if I had gotten that email. Sometimes less is more, people!
I don’t, actually. Good point.
Is that like a floater?
I hate for my first post on a board to be in a thread like this, but it fits!!
I have what I term as a “Selective bowel” or maybe even “Shy” at times. My bowel (or brain!) won’t even tell me I have to go unless I’m at home. If I’m out of town and in a hotel room by myself, it might let me go by day 3. Maybe! If I go on a road trip out of state for a few days, and I’m sharing a hotel room, it’s not going to happen. Right around 10 miles into the state, I start to get a twinge that I’m going to have to go as soon as I get home.
I share that part to tell this story. I was in the Navy after high school (yes, boot camp was TERRIBLE in this regard!) and was stationed on a submarine after completing my nuclear training. We were in the shipyard at first, so I had no problem. However, they eventually finished putting the boat back together, and sent us out to sea. That was when the real problem started.
For the first few days, I was OK. My brain never even told me it was time to go, and we were so busy fixing everything the shipyard had done that it didn’t bother me. After a few days though, I started noticing some discomfort. Discomfort soon gave way to pain, and before long all the guys in my division knew of my dilemma. To say the least, I was not enjoying myself. I tried to go, but it wasn’t happening. After a week, I went to the ship’s doc & told him what was going on. He gave me a quick exam and then handed me 2 little reddish pills. He told me to take them with some water, and then to NOT go far from the bathroom.
I knew I had about an hour or so worth of maintenance to do, and figured the pills wouldn’t kick in THAT quickly, right? So I went back to the engineroom (where there is no bathroom!) and started doing my work. If you’ve ever seen a decent movie about the Navy, you’ve seen a watertight door. You have to step up and through this hatch to get into the next compartment. It’s not like a regular door, the bottom of the door is about 18" high. To get from the compartment where the bathroom was to the engineroom where I was working, I had to go through 3 of these doors.
15 minutes after I get back there and start working, it hits me. I have to go. NOW! I put up my work, and went to head back to the forward part of the boat where the bathrooms were. When I got to the first watertight hatch, I encountered my first major problem. When I tried to lift my leg high enough to get through, I almost pooped myself. For some odd reason, I thought if I went through with the other leg first, that would be OK. Silly, right? Didn’t work! The only way I could get through was to grab hold of a pipe over top of the door and swing myself through. Carefully. The guys who knew about my problem were ever-so-helpful, cheering me on through the door and laughing as hard as they could.
I made it through all 3 hatches and then to the forward part of the boat. By this time, I was pushing people out of my way, hoping that I would make it. Of course, the other problem is that when you’re on a submarine under water, you’re not wearing pants & a shirt, you’re wearing what we called a “poopy suit” (No, I am NOT making that up!!!). They were very comfortable coveralls, with a t-shirt underneath and boxers (or commando, thankfully how I was!). As I was running to the bathroom, I was wrestling myself out of the poopy suit, trying to prepare for my arrival in the stall.
Thankfully, a stall was open. Those 2 little pills emptied out a week’s worth of greasy Navy food in roughly 15 minutes. The force at which this was all propelled from me made it completely irrelevant if there was TP or not, I just went straight to the shower to clean up.
Worst poo experience of my life.
(Oh, and probably as some kind of cosmic pay-back, I am now a plumbing contractor)
OK, Poopy suit is the best part of that story, hands down.