Longest Fart Contest
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[xeno]Julios
- Posts: 6216
- Joined: Fri Dec 10, 1999 8:00 am
my google skills own 
http://www.personal.psu.edu/users/k/l/k ... able/8.htm
i used
simultaneously vomit shit
as my keywords
http://www.personal.psu.edu/users/k/l/k ... able/8.htm
i used
simultaneously vomit shit
as my keywords
I am not sure if this is 100% true, but here's another one.
A friend of a friend is down in Texas (I think) at some NASCAR event. About 100,000 people in the heat, with a line of portable toilets each with about 100 people waiting for each. Well, he's really, really got to shit - so when its finally his turn, he gets in, attempts the move (spinning around and letting go with your ass pointing towards the hole, hoping that all ejected feces make it in). He was unsuccessful, and the result was a large turd laying across the seat. To make matters worse, there was no toilet paper (in his hurry, he neglected to check). So, he realizes he has no choice but to rough it..as he leaves, he tells the guy in line "Hey man, I'd avoid this one...the person in front of me left a steamer laying across the seat." The fellow in line responds "the person in front of you was my wife."
A friend of a friend is down in Texas (I think) at some NASCAR event. About 100,000 people in the heat, with a line of portable toilets each with about 100 people waiting for each. Well, he's really, really got to shit - so when its finally his turn, he gets in, attempts the move (spinning around and letting go with your ass pointing towards the hole, hoping that all ejected feces make it in). He was unsuccessful, and the result was a large turd laying across the seat. To make matters worse, there was no toilet paper (in his hurry, he neglected to check). So, he realizes he has no choice but to rough it..as he leaves, he tells the guy in line "Hey man, I'd avoid this one...the person in front of me left a steamer laying across the seat." The fellow in line responds "the person in front of you was my wife."
Ah!
I've got a great one!
I play bass in my university's jazz ensemble. We toured Brazil for a couple of weeks in the summer of 2004. It was very hot everywhere we went. Every bed I slept in felt musty, like it had been so humid in those hotel rooms for years, and nothing was ever done about it.
One place we stayed in was amazing. It was the absolute worst place I've ever had the chance to sleep in. My room was a tiny cube. Probably about 20x20 feet, and all four walls had these big bunk beds against them. And there were ten people staying in this room, people. It was unbelievable. I wish I had pictures of it.
Anyway, trying to sleep there was terrible. I barely got any sleep, and it was so hot and wet throughout the night. Oh, and there was black mold-like stuff growing all over the walls. When I woke up the next morning, my sinuses were killing me, and my stomach was burning.
Oh, something you should all know is that if you're an American such as myself, when you go to Brazil, you _will_ get diarrhea, and it _will_ last for days. The food down there is so, so different from what we've got. Everything is extremely watery. Take fruit for instance. When I say they've got juicy bananas down there, I mean juicy. Anyway -- it looked like I was going to have diarrhea.
So back to my sinuses. I kind of dragged myself into the "lobby" (you really should see this place) of this place and just crashed on the couch. My head was pounding with pain like I'd never experienced before. I usually don't have allergies in the states, so I figured it was because I breathed in that horrible, mold-ridden air all night in that humid room. The point is, I was in utter shambles. My stomach felt like it was completely filled up with some kind of bile, it felt like someone was inside my skull squeezing all kinds of terrible things in there, I didn't get much sleep -- and I had a full, hard day's work ahead of me. I was thoroughly hax0red.
A friend offered me an allergy pill in hopes that it would clear up my head. I accepted because I was dying. So this is all about 8 AM.
Flash forward twelve hours -- 8 PM. We had a great day of performing and signing autographs and all kinds of cool stuff like that. We had the night off, so we were at this gigantic mall. A friend of mine bought the first Hitchhiker's Guide volume in Portugese. I saw t-shirts in clothing stores that said "Fuck Fake" and "New Fuck City," both of which I lughed hard at, and I wish I'd bought them both now.
Oh! Well, there was the diarrhea. It hit me hard, and I had to go. So I started speed walking around this huge mall, where everything is written in Portugese, and I looked hard for a bathroom. It took about ten minutes of exploration and great pain before I finally found what I was looking for. I entered a stall, noticed it had somebody else's pay load in it, so I flushed it and watched it all go down just to make sure. Indeed -- the toilet was completely empty and ready for blastoff.
I sat down and completely exploded. It was a violent, raging torrent spewing forth with such pressure that I thought perhaps my intestines were on their way out the hole, as well.
I was finally finished. I felt relieved. I stood up to view my body's horrible creation. Amongst the flakey, wet mess, something cought my eye.
It was the pill that I had taken twelve hours earlier. It was completely in tact -- you could even read the writing on it. This was a big "wtf" moment for me. Could it be that I was so screwed up on the inside that my body didn't even bother with the pill? I marveled at it for a minute or two trying to figure it out, but the overwhelming relief that I was experiencing finally won me over as to say, "Good job, boy. You fought hard, but now you can go home and rest." So I flushed and left the room with an incredible tale; one that will remain with me the rest of my days.
I play bass in my university's jazz ensemble. We toured Brazil for a couple of weeks in the summer of 2004. It was very hot everywhere we went. Every bed I slept in felt musty, like it had been so humid in those hotel rooms for years, and nothing was ever done about it.
One place we stayed in was amazing. It was the absolute worst place I've ever had the chance to sleep in. My room was a tiny cube. Probably about 20x20 feet, and all four walls had these big bunk beds against them. And there were ten people staying in this room, people. It was unbelievable. I wish I had pictures of it.
Anyway, trying to sleep there was terrible. I barely got any sleep, and it was so hot and wet throughout the night. Oh, and there was black mold-like stuff growing all over the walls. When I woke up the next morning, my sinuses were killing me, and my stomach was burning.
Oh, something you should all know is that if you're an American such as myself, when you go to Brazil, you _will_ get diarrhea, and it _will_ last for days. The food down there is so, so different from what we've got. Everything is extremely watery. Take fruit for instance. When I say they've got juicy bananas down there, I mean juicy. Anyway -- it looked like I was going to have diarrhea.
So back to my sinuses. I kind of dragged myself into the "lobby" (you really should see this place) of this place and just crashed on the couch. My head was pounding with pain like I'd never experienced before. I usually don't have allergies in the states, so I figured it was because I breathed in that horrible, mold-ridden air all night in that humid room. The point is, I was in utter shambles. My stomach felt like it was completely filled up with some kind of bile, it felt like someone was inside my skull squeezing all kinds of terrible things in there, I didn't get much sleep -- and I had a full, hard day's work ahead of me. I was thoroughly hax0red.
A friend offered me an allergy pill in hopes that it would clear up my head. I accepted because I was dying. So this is all about 8 AM.
Flash forward twelve hours -- 8 PM. We had a great day of performing and signing autographs and all kinds of cool stuff like that. We had the night off, so we were at this gigantic mall. A friend of mine bought the first Hitchhiker's Guide volume in Portugese. I saw t-shirts in clothing stores that said "Fuck Fake" and "New Fuck City," both of which I lughed hard at, and I wish I'd bought them both now.
Oh! Well, there was the diarrhea. It hit me hard, and I had to go. So I started speed walking around this huge mall, where everything is written in Portugese, and I looked hard for a bathroom. It took about ten minutes of exploration and great pain before I finally found what I was looking for. I entered a stall, noticed it had somebody else's pay load in it, so I flushed it and watched it all go down just to make sure. Indeed -- the toilet was completely empty and ready for blastoff.
I sat down and completely exploded. It was a violent, raging torrent spewing forth with such pressure that I thought perhaps my intestines were on their way out the hole, as well.
I was finally finished. I felt relieved. I stood up to view my body's horrible creation. Amongst the flakey, wet mess, something cought my eye.
It was the pill that I had taken twelve hours earlier. It was completely in tact -- you could even read the writing on it. This was a big "wtf" moment for me. Could it be that I was so screwed up on the inside that my body didn't even bother with the pill? I marveled at it for a minute or two trying to figure it out, but the overwhelming relief that I was experiencing finally won me over as to say, "Good job, boy. You fought hard, but now you can go home and rest." So I flushed and left the room with an incredible tale; one that will remain with me the rest of my days.
I took a scuba diving course when I was in college, and after the course was finished we were able to take a trip to Florida to do our certification dives. I had a late class the night before, so I wound up driving down by myself.
In a wonderful stroke of luck, I happened to contract some sort of stomach virus the day before I left. So I drove from middle TN to FL -- 8 or 9 hours -- having to stop every 30-60 minutes wherever I could, with all the advance warning of a train wreck. Needless to say I found some creative ways to relieve myself, but the best was yet to come.
When I finally got to Florida, we had 3 dives each day of the weekend, and each of them were 25-40 minutes. Of course I made sure to unload all the goods I could get off before we ever got started in the morning. But you have never felt the pure fear, loathing and frustration of being 40 feet underwater with explosive diarrhea, no way to ascend quickly, and still knowing that when you finally do get to the surface and race 50 yards to the can, you have at least a 2 minute wetsuit-shirking challenge on your hands before you can purge the demons, which at this point you would swear are playing tantalizing games with your sphincter with a miniature plunger or some sort of microscopic hammer-drill.
In a wonderful stroke of luck, I happened to contract some sort of stomach virus the day before I left. So I drove from middle TN to FL -- 8 or 9 hours -- having to stop every 30-60 minutes wherever I could, with all the advance warning of a train wreck. Needless to say I found some creative ways to relieve myself, but the best was yet to come.
When I finally got to Florida, we had 3 dives each day of the weekend, and each of them were 25-40 minutes. Of course I made sure to unload all the goods I could get off before we ever got started in the morning. But you have never felt the pure fear, loathing and frustration of being 40 feet underwater with explosive diarrhea, no way to ascend quickly, and still knowing that when you finally do get to the surface and race 50 yards to the can, you have at least a 2 minute wetsuit-shirking challenge on your hands before you can purge the demons, which at this point you would swear are playing tantalizing games with your sphincter with a miniature plunger or some sort of microscopic hammer-drill.
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Don Carlos
- Posts: 17515
- Joined: Thu Jan 01, 1970 12:00 am
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Dr.FrasierCrane
- Posts: 88
- Joined: Mon Apr 18, 2005 6:36 pm
My recent bad episode was last March, its pretty tame but quite amuzing nonetheless.
It was my last day in Vegas, and naturally to celebrate the the end of the holiday we got well oiled up the nite before.
So to counter the nasty hangover we went to good ol McDonalds, I had a big breakfast meal and 2 Mcmuffin things, they went down a treat. But it was the 4 large Blue Powerades I gulped down after which started the problems.
The immediate effect after downing them was I wanted to spew, & I was gonna make myself do it. I raced to the bog, and kicked open the door only to find 2 spitty lil urinals, and 1 toilet cubicle which its doorframe was having paintwork done by a spotty part timer and his superviser to keep an eye on him.
Give them credit, they did leave the bog for me to chuck. It was only after that when my first Beer-Shit of the day wanted to come out. I was only sat on the bog for a minute but Im sure the amount of Whiskey turds could have filled up a Happy Meal box.
The shitting process went quite badly & the splashbacks I left on that bog would have been good enough to be posted on a poplular Porn/Gore website. Somehow whatever I spewed and shit was green & blue, it wasnt pretty.
I dont know if whatever they saw or smelt (sp?) killed them 2 McDonalds workers. But Im betting they had to add another layer of paint on that doorframe before finishing their shift.
That was the only mark I left on America. The McShits™ :icon32:
It was my last day in Vegas, and naturally to celebrate the the end of the holiday we got well oiled up the nite before.
So to counter the nasty hangover we went to good ol McDonalds, I had a big breakfast meal and 2 Mcmuffin things, they went down a treat. But it was the 4 large Blue Powerades I gulped down after which started the problems.
The immediate effect after downing them was I wanted to spew, & I was gonna make myself do it. I raced to the bog, and kicked open the door only to find 2 spitty lil urinals, and 1 toilet cubicle which its doorframe was having paintwork done by a spotty part timer and his superviser to keep an eye on him.
Give them credit, they did leave the bog for me to chuck. It was only after that when my first Beer-Shit of the day wanted to come out. I was only sat on the bog for a minute but Im sure the amount of Whiskey turds could have filled up a Happy Meal box.
The shitting process went quite badly & the splashbacks I left on that bog would have been good enough to be posted on a poplular Porn/Gore website. Somehow whatever I spewed and shit was green & blue, it wasnt pretty.
I dont know if whatever they saw or smelt (sp?) killed them 2 McDonalds workers. But Im betting they had to add another layer of paint on that doorframe before finishing their shift.
That was the only mark I left on America. The McShits™ :icon32:
Hello, I'm listening.
My worst shit experience was on a vacation years ago.
I can tell you that this was not a horrible run-to-the-toilet excercise but just an ordinary shit, at least, that's what I expected.
We were camping in France with our caravan. I had to take a dump but didn't feel any of the unnerving stress involved with the more liquid forms of human excrement. I actually made it to the toilet without even the slightest stomach cramp and in fact managed to sit down.
At first it felt like there was this lump of coal up my ass crawling down at a slow pace. It took some serious sphincter gymnastics to get that thing out. What I had never expected though, was that this hardened lump of feces was actually keeping my innards sealed off from the ouside world, kind of like a cork on a bottle of cheap champagne.
At this point the amount of pressure excecised by my rectal muscles and build up air on the inside was so high that the little brown gem shot out at approximately the speed of sound. The supersonic boom was audible in the nearby area and confused several French fighter pilots who immediately surrendered before this mighty supersonic weapon.
Immediately following this boom was an incredible highly pressurised uncontrollable stream of brown liquid. Anyone with the slightest bit of knowledge in the field of physics can imagine what happened to this high powered stream of goo as it hit the back of the toilet bowl. It splashed straight back towards it's source, leaving specks of brown fluid all over the place, including my own arse.
As I made my damage assessment and concluded that I should clean up myself first and then run like mad and pretend nothing had happened, it suddenly hit me... I forgot to take toilet paper with me. Out of all times when you go to the toilet, you take TP with you when all you have to do is give your little fellow a good shake or two to get rid of excess liquid, but now that I really needed it I forgot it.
The only possible solution was to pull up my trousers again and get back to our caravan, get TP, go back, clean up and forget about the whole affair as soon as possible.
I can assure you that the feeling of your underwear sticking to your ass by means of dhiarrhea is not a comforting one, especially not if you are walking over a camping site and everyone is giving you the looks because of your rather odd way of walking. The moment you realise you have to make the same trip back again with a roll of toilet paper in your hands and everyone will give you that look again because now they understand what's going on is even worse. On the way back I had the distinct feeling that my attempts to actually hide the roll under my t-shirt was slightly in vain. If that wasn't enough, there was the pain of explaining to my parents why I was grabbing the TP roll and went to the toilets when I had just gone and where those brown spots came from as well....
It's a cruel world.
I can tell you that this was not a horrible run-to-the-toilet excercise but just an ordinary shit, at least, that's what I expected.
We were camping in France with our caravan. I had to take a dump but didn't feel any of the unnerving stress involved with the more liquid forms of human excrement. I actually made it to the toilet without even the slightest stomach cramp and in fact managed to sit down.
At first it felt like there was this lump of coal up my ass crawling down at a slow pace. It took some serious sphincter gymnastics to get that thing out. What I had never expected though, was that this hardened lump of feces was actually keeping my innards sealed off from the ouside world, kind of like a cork on a bottle of cheap champagne.
At this point the amount of pressure excecised by my rectal muscles and build up air on the inside was so high that the little brown gem shot out at approximately the speed of sound. The supersonic boom was audible in the nearby area and confused several French fighter pilots who immediately surrendered before this mighty supersonic weapon.
Immediately following this boom was an incredible highly pressurised uncontrollable stream of brown liquid. Anyone with the slightest bit of knowledge in the field of physics can imagine what happened to this high powered stream of goo as it hit the back of the toilet bowl. It splashed straight back towards it's source, leaving specks of brown fluid all over the place, including my own arse.
As I made my damage assessment and concluded that I should clean up myself first and then run like mad and pretend nothing had happened, it suddenly hit me... I forgot to take toilet paper with me. Out of all times when you go to the toilet, you take TP with you when all you have to do is give your little fellow a good shake or two to get rid of excess liquid, but now that I really needed it I forgot it.
The only possible solution was to pull up my trousers again and get back to our caravan, get TP, go back, clean up and forget about the whole affair as soon as possible.
I can assure you that the feeling of your underwear sticking to your ass by means of dhiarrhea is not a comforting one, especially not if you are walking over a camping site and everyone is giving you the looks because of your rather odd way of walking. The moment you realise you have to make the same trip back again with a roll of toilet paper in your hands and everyone will give you that look again because now they understand what's going on is even worse. On the way back I had the distinct feeling that my attempts to actually hide the roll under my t-shirt was slightly in vain. If that wasn't enough, there was the pain of explaining to my parents why I was grabbing the TP roll and went to the toilets when I had just gone and where those brown spots came from as well....
It's a cruel world.
Last edited by Eraser on Tue Jun 21, 2005 11:50 am, edited 2 times in total.
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Nightshade
- Posts: 17020
- Joined: Fri Dec 01, 2000 8:00 am
I recall being at my grandparents lake cottage when I was about 11 or 12 and having to take a dump RIGHT FUCKING NOW. I had just come in from swimming so my shorts were wet and didn't want to cooperate. Needless to say, the duration of my fight with my shorts was such that the first two bombs missed the target and hit the floor. :lol:
The worst shitscapade I had was at summer camp. I don't know what the fuck I ate the gave me the Hershey squirts, but it was the two burgers and four chocolate milks I had at a cook-out that caused my gastro-intestinal pressure to exceed blow-off level. I sensed this impending wastegate venting, so I proceeded to locate the nearest shitter. Sadly, this was the outhouse next to my cabin, about 500 yards away. I can't imagine the look of desperate consternation on my face as I tried to walk as fast as possible while keeping my asscheeks welded shut. It was not long before I broke into a dead sprint, and as tnf mentioned, this is the worst possible thing to do. But, I was about 9 and I didn't know any better. I think there's some natural law that states that you can either control the muscles in your legs to walk/run or keep your sphincter irised shut, but not both. I managed to run about three feet off the path, but was NOT able to yank my WHITE shorts down in time before about a quart of YooHoo came rocketing out of my ass. I was within sight of the fucking outhouse, too. Thank god that there was no one around to witness this, as I had outpaced all the returning campers.
I did that stiff-legged "Oh god this feels so nasty I'm trying to keep these shitty shorts off my ass" walk to my cabin and grabbed another pair of shorts. After I cleaned up, I was left with the problem of how to dispose of my soiled shorts. Did I throw them in a trashcan? No. Did I just chuck them in one of the holes in the outhouse? Hell no. My dumb ass carried the shorts back to my cabin and threw them into the woods.
Where they promptly got hung in a tree, shitty side facing the cabin. A lovely fecal flag, waving in the summer breeze. The other campers were returning at this point, so I couldn't go yank the shorts from their perch without being seen. I just acted like I had no idea who they belonged to when I was asked.
The worst shitscapade I had was at summer camp. I don't know what the fuck I ate the gave me the Hershey squirts, but it was the two burgers and four chocolate milks I had at a cook-out that caused my gastro-intestinal pressure to exceed blow-off level. I sensed this impending wastegate venting, so I proceeded to locate the nearest shitter. Sadly, this was the outhouse next to my cabin, about 500 yards away. I can't imagine the look of desperate consternation on my face as I tried to walk as fast as possible while keeping my asscheeks welded shut. It was not long before I broke into a dead sprint, and as tnf mentioned, this is the worst possible thing to do. But, I was about 9 and I didn't know any better. I think there's some natural law that states that you can either control the muscles in your legs to walk/run or keep your sphincter irised shut, but not both. I managed to run about three feet off the path, but was NOT able to yank my WHITE shorts down in time before about a quart of YooHoo came rocketing out of my ass. I was within sight of the fucking outhouse, too. Thank god that there was no one around to witness this, as I had outpaced all the returning campers.
I did that stiff-legged "Oh god this feels so nasty I'm trying to keep these shitty shorts off my ass" walk to my cabin and grabbed another pair of shorts. After I cleaned up, I was left with the problem of how to dispose of my soiled shorts. Did I throw them in a trashcan? No. Did I just chuck them in one of the holes in the outhouse? Hell no. My dumb ass carried the shorts back to my cabin and threw them into the woods.
Where they promptly got hung in a tree, shitty side facing the cabin. A lovely fecal flag, waving in the summer breeze. The other campers were returning at this point, so I couldn't go yank the shorts from their perch without being seen. I just acted like I had no idea who they belonged to when I was asked.
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phantasmagoria
- Posts: 8525
- Joined: Wed Oct 22, 2003 7:00 am
All i had to eat a few days ago was a whole punnet of nectarines and an orange I stole from my housemates, needless to say my arse wasn't appreciating it the day after. While sitting at the computer I began to fart and realised that a turtle head was popping his way through. I dashed to the toilet and sat down in the nick of time and applied a little pressure, seeing as he'd already started his departure I applied a little pressure..
This hard turd acting as a form of plug, blocking all the liquid shit that had built up from the nectarines the day before, it flew out and following it was a stream of buttock wee that completely lined the toilet bowl, hardly a speck of white could be seen.
I then stripped off got in the shower, bent down and showered my arse like some dirty whore.
If I hadn't held it in while i was sitting at the computer i would have made a hell of a fucking mess
This hard turd acting as a form of plug, blocking all the liquid shit that had built up from the nectarines the day before, it flew out and following it was a stream of buttock wee that completely lined the toilet bowl, hardly a speck of white could be seen.
I then stripped off got in the shower, bent down and showered my arse like some dirty whore.
If I hadn't held it in while i was sitting at the computer i would have made a hell of a fucking mess
Last edited by phantasmagoria on Tue Jun 21, 2005 12:29 pm, edited 3 times in total.
[size=85]
i guess i should count myself lucky ive only had one emergency shit that i can remember atm
i think it was a squat bork ina ditch on the side of the road :lol:\
my ass is like a a good spitters lips, so i bet i can blast semi-standing with-out complications
yea obviosly i'm a real privite person for shits
i think it was a squat bork ina ditch on the side of the road :lol:\
my ass is like a a good spitters lips, so i bet i can blast semi-standing with-out complications
yea obviosly i'm a real privite person for shits
Absolutely marvelous thread. Should be archived. :icon14:
tnf, I know what you mean about having a woman who doesn't care about walking in on you when you're laying cable. I don't really mind hearing other people grunting and huffing (other than that I can't keep from laughing), but I need the fan running or some other background noise when I'm on the throne. My girl doesn't seem to care about that, and will walk right in when I'm shitting. Bugs the hell out of me.
Case in point: She and I just ran a marathon this weekend, and afterwards we both suffered from major gut cramping. When we headed back to her house to shower and rest, I told her that I really needed the bathroom first. So I ran in, closed the door (no lock on it, damnit) and took care of about 1/3 of things. I even was a gentleman and lit a candle to reduce the smell for when it was her turn. It didn't matter; still only 1/3 of the way into buisiness, she walked right in and started running water for a shower. I had to stop proceedings until she actually climbed into the shower, then I was able to grunt and purge some more since the sound of the water covered the noise. I still wasn't done when she got out, and once again I had to pinch and cringe until she dried off and left. It hurt my insides a lot.
She gets mad at me when I lock the door at my place, but I just tell her it's habit when in truth I just want to squat in peace.
btw... if anyone has ever seen that Monty Python sketch of the Marathon for the Incontinent, that's actually what it's like irl. Dozens of people constantly running off into the woods to take a shite. :lol:
tnf, I know what you mean about having a woman who doesn't care about walking in on you when you're laying cable. I don't really mind hearing other people grunting and huffing (other than that I can't keep from laughing), but I need the fan running or some other background noise when I'm on the throne. My girl doesn't seem to care about that, and will walk right in when I'm shitting. Bugs the hell out of me.
Case in point: She and I just ran a marathon this weekend, and afterwards we both suffered from major gut cramping. When we headed back to her house to shower and rest, I told her that I really needed the bathroom first. So I ran in, closed the door (no lock on it, damnit) and took care of about 1/3 of things. I even was a gentleman and lit a candle to reduce the smell for when it was her turn. It didn't matter; still only 1/3 of the way into buisiness, she walked right in and started running water for a shower. I had to stop proceedings until she actually climbed into the shower, then I was able to grunt and purge some more since the sound of the water covered the noise. I still wasn't done when she got out, and once again I had to pinch and cringe until she dried off and left. It hurt my insides a lot.
She gets mad at me when I lock the door at my place, but I just tell her it's habit when in truth I just want to squat in peace.
btw... if anyone has ever seen that Monty Python sketch of the Marathon for the Incontinent, that's actually what it's like irl. Dozens of people constantly running off into the woods to take a shite. :lol:
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phantasmagoria
- Posts: 8525
- Joined: Wed Oct 22, 2003 7:00 am
Probably for about 5 minutes, but my intestines weren't sure what to do because they had just been abused for a couple of hours while I was running. So I had to shit really badly, but it wasn't really in the mood to cooperate. So, I just had to sit and wince and wait until it decided when to stop the pain.
Great thread, cheered me right up
No disasterous story of my own to share though... my bowels must be strong or something. Even in Egypt i somehow stayed healthy, opposed to all the others in the group who suffered from severe liquid shit attacks.
No disasterous story of my own to share though... my bowels must be strong or something. Even in Egypt i somehow stayed healthy, opposed to all the others in the group who suffered from severe liquid shit attacks.
[size=85][color=#0080BF]io chiamo pinguini![/color][/size]
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Dr.FrasierCrane
- Posts: 88
- Joined: Mon Apr 18, 2005 6:36 pm
Here's a question -
Another friend of mine sells appliances at Sears. Last week there was a pile of human excrement in the breezeway between the outer and inner doors. In the middle of the day. How the hell...?
Or, when he found shit in the sink of the K-Mart bathroom. Say what you will about K-Mart shoppers, but seriously, how in the fuck does someone shit out a SINK?
Another friend of mine sells appliances at Sears. Last week there was a pile of human excrement in the breezeway between the outer and inner doors. In the middle of the day. How the hell...?
Or, when he found shit in the sink of the K-Mart bathroom. Say what you will about K-Mart shoppers, but seriously, how in the fuck does someone shit out a SINK?
