I’ve posted this here before, but it bears repeating:
I was staying at a nice hotel in New Orleans - I left my room on the 17th floor for breakfast one morning - there was another “gentleman” in there when I got on - and the 'vator was reeking with fart - that nasty, eye-watering “stick to the walls” type of fart that soils and corrupts everything it comes into contact with…and it had noxious undertones of long unwashed ass and body too. Really rank.
He got off on the 12th floor, and I was alone with the stench on my way to the lobby…until the elevator stopped on the 9th floor and a nice, refined looking couple got on. They caught a whiff of this vileness that was still dripping off the walls just as the doors closed, and they kept sneaking peaks at me all the way to the lobby.
Sorry to hijack, but I have to mention my favorite happening at work.
I get a little thrill inside whenever I go into a bathroom stall and see that the seat is “up”, and the water in the bowl is still that nice, disinfectant-y blue color.
I enjoy small victories.
-Cem
I agree. Don’t be a hater hater.
I I swear swear I I corrected corrected this this!
Those those damned damned hamsters hamsters!
I hate dudes who pee in the unisex bathroom at work. You know why? Because it has an automatic flusher thing, and when a guy pees in it while standing up, they aren’t close enough to trigger the flush. And they don’t think to cover it with their hand or something to trigger it, no, they just leave a bowl full of piss for the next person, who is frequently me.
I lay pretty big logs.
1.5 gpf toilets.
Do the math.
A plunger is always on standby in our bathroom. :mad:
I think I’ve mentioned this before, but I hate the phrase ‘fun’. You’re SUPPOSED to say “That party was fun”, not “that shirt is fun”. I hear this all the time. I think it’s a suburban white woman thing. I AM a suburban white woman, but I would never say “Look at her jewelry - it’s so fun!” :smack:
Don’t even get me started on some of the conversations I hear about the stresses of being a hockey/soccer/whatever mom. It’s all just a pretext to brag about your kids. “I am SO exhausted. Jimmy made the travel hockey team and I have no life!” This woman will usually be the one with the huge button on her purse with a photo of said kid, and the honor roll bumper sticker on her car. :rolleyes:
When our daughter made the honor roll for the first time back in middle school, we agreed to never, ever put that stupid bumper sticker on either car.
I’m torn between believing that **purple haze ** is doing a 
with us OR if she is completely unaware that she has met the enemy and it is her.
I guess I’ll give her the benefit of the doubt. How fun!
That doesn’t make any sense. I know just what purple haze is talking about. When my daughter got the highest score in the district on her Fourth Grade Math Regents, we told her not to expect a big deal over it. After all, if we didn’t make a big deal over her brother’s American Chemical Society award, we weren’t going to go nuts now. She agreed, because she is an unusally level-headed child, thank god. I hate those bumper stickers.
A while back, I heard a person whose job it is to spout shit on the TV say, “for the new year, sleep is the new hydration.”
As to the OP, I proudly claim all shit smells as my own. “You’re damn right I did that one that smells like vomit. I did the one that smells like manure, and the one that smells like bile. For I am Omni Ass.”
Puts me in the mid of my first car.
I just left the lady’s room, where 2 of the 4 toilets were clogged (you just about can’t flush anything that isn’t a liquid without causing a clog here, unfortunately), one was occupied, and someone had dropped the (non-flushable) wrapper to an ovulation test in the toilet and left it there, along with lots of pee sprinkles all over the seat. :rolleyes: I had to pee BAD, so I used a seat-cover to very gingerly fish the wrapper out, wiped the seat off with TP, and used an ass-gasket to sit down on, then washed my hands very, very carefully when I was done.
Ah, it’s good to be male. We would have just used the sink.
Kind of makes up for that lower-life-expectancy thing.
I must confess to being the perpetrator of an even worse scenario:
In the school where I teach, there is a faculty restroom (a one-holer) down the hall and around a corner from my room. One day during my planning period, I badly needed to drop a log, but I kept holding it in while I was getting some urgent paperwork completed. Finally, a few minutes before the end of the period, I rushed to the bathroom and laid one of the biggest, fattest turds of my life. :eek: And that baby was solid! Too solid. When I flushed, it got lodged horizontally across the hole in the bowl and wouldn’t go down. I flushed and flushed–at least 12 times–and it just wedged itself in tighter. And this was a tankless toilet with a very powerful flush–I kept thinking the turd would break in two eventually, but it didn’t.
It was almost time for the bell to ring to send everyone to the next class and I knew once that happened there would be other teachers waiting to use this restroom. I really felt bad about leaving my ‘surprise’ in the toilet like that, but I was even more afraid of having to claim responsibility for it. :o So I poked my head out the restroom door and saw that the coast was clear, and then I hurried back to my classroom. (I considered going back to the restroom with something to poke the poop with, to send it on its way, but there was no time)
Several minutes later, as I stood outside my classroom door, the teacher from the room next to mine–a gregarious, older guy with a pot belly and a loud, booming voice–walked up to me from the direction of the restroom and relayed to me an embarrassing situation that had just occurred. He went to use the restroom to urinate and found that someone had left a large turd in the bowl. He described in very colorful language the impressive dimensions of this turd, and he was sure that a student must have been responsible, because no teacher would just leave something like that for the next person to find. (I whole-heartedly agreed 
)
He went on to describe how after he took a leak and flushed, the turd wouldn’t go down. He flushed and flushed–at least ten times–and it wouldn’t budge. It was–in his words–“amazing.” He was afraid to leave it there, because he knew there were other teachers waiting in the hall to use the restroom, and they would think that it was his. Eventually he realized it was not going to flush, so he left the restroom and tried to convince the next teacher in line that he wasn’t responsible. I’m sure they believed him.
Keeping a straight face while he told me his story was one of the most difficult things I’ve ever done. 
If there is a prize for “Post of the Week,” Tangent wins it! 
I hate unisex bathrooms.
The more you flush the more it strengthens the turd’s resolve to stay in one piece.
May I suggest you keep a small supply of explosive charges in your desk to cater for such an eventuality in the future. If the turd exhibits signs of resistance then throw a charge into the bowl. Don’t forget to put the lid down. In fact, it might be better to sit on the lid so that fragments of turd are not blown around the bathroom.
Let me know how you get on.
Good post Tangent.
I’m wondering if I would have tried to poke it with my finger, and then just scrubbed, scrubbed, and scrubbed some more.
Thanks Lizard and Trunk!
And Chez, thanks for the suggestion. I’ll stock up on M-80s and keep one in my pocket at all times. 
For me, that would be Vega Butt.
But I drove an Omni too. :o
But listen people, you don’t want to intimidate the flatulent to the point that they feel enough shame about their affliction to behave like this.