[e92_m3]

There was this one time back in the day where I had to take a dump. While looking for a book to read, I sneezed. The force of the sneeze caused me to shit my pants. The glob of dung then ran down my leg before falling out of my shorts onto my carpet, all in less than 5 seconds. Nothing in my life has prepared me for something like that...

[youngnastyman]

Originally Posted by e92_m3

There was this one time back in the day where I had to take a dump. While looking for a book to read, I sneezed. The force of the sneeze caused me to shit my pants. The glob of dung then ran down my leg before falling out of my shorts onto my carpet, all in less than 5 seconds. Nothing in my life has prepared me for something like that...

LMAO!!! I've had sneezes push out a fart but never a turd!!! LMAOO!!!!

[JayKay335i]

Any recent close calls people?

[SchnellM3]

I was in Hilton head over the Summer after a night at a friends house had to shit so bad. I figured it was no big deal since I could be back to our place in 10 and didn't want to destroy their bathroom. On the ride home pretty much everything I ate was not agreeing with me. I finally made it back to the house and was feeling pretty good about my decision until I was headed in and two of the biggest Palmetto bugs I have ever seen fell out of a tree on me.

[Blake]

Originally Posted by AllydNYC

shart

lets be honest, everyone has sharted at least once in their life...and if you say no, you're a god damn fool.

[JayKay335i]

Originally Posted by SchnellM3

I was in Hilton head over the Summer after a night at a friends house had to shit so bad. I figured it was no big deal since I could be back to our place in 10 and didn't want to destroy their bathroom. On the ride home pretty much everything I ate was not agreeing with me. I finally made it back to the house and was feeling pretty good about my decision until I was headed in and two of the biggest Palmetto bugs I have ever seen fell out of a tree on me.

So much WIN in that story.

[JayKay335i]

[infinitekidM2C]

One time i was with my younger cousin at Knotts Berry Farm..we were with a few peeps and had basically stuffed ourselves at the Pizza place for lunch...well few hours later its dark and time to leave since its closing and this kid has to shite NOW...nobody around to ask where the nearest restroom is...then he starts running...but apparently it aint happening..he was wearing shorts..he squatted and shat right there in plain view...i almost died laughing.

[HOG4DNR]

I can usually keep back 3 waves, but if the 4th hits, the flood gates open. It's those damn Outback Blooming Onions (I rarely eat there anymore).

[Gregxi]

I know this has been around the interwebz for ever but it is still a great story, My brother sent it to me in'98. It's a bit long but well worth the read

If you think you've ever had a bad day in the shitter...

Now, I know that there is a lot of embellishment that
occurs on this group and I am aware that a small number
of things are perhaps sheer fabrication, but I have a story
to tell that is the absolute truth.

Funniest damn thing that has ever happened to me.

A couple of weeks ago we decided to cruise out to Ryan's
Steakhouse for dinner. It was a Wednesday night which means
that macaroni and beef was on the hot bar, indeed the only
night of the week that it is served. Wednesday night is also
kid's night at Ryan's, complete with Dizzy the Clown wandering
from table to table entertaining the little bastards. It may
seem that the events about to be told have little
connection to those two circumstances, but all will be
clear in a moment.

We went through the line and placed our orders for the
all-you-can-eat hot bar then sat down as far away from the front
of the restaurant as possible in order to keep the density of
kids down a bit. Then I started my move to the hot bar. Plate
after plate of macaroni and beef were consumed that evening,
I tell you-in all, four heaping plates of the pseudo-Italian
ambrosia were shoved into my belly. I was sated.

Perhaps a bit too much, however.

I had not really been feeling well all day, what with a bit
of gas and such. By the time I had eaten four overwhelmed
plates of food, I was in real trouble. There was so much pressure
on my diaphragm that I was having trouble breathing. At the same
time, the downward pressure was building. At first, I thought
it was only gas which could have been passed in batches right
at the table without to much concern. Unfortunately, that was
not to be. After a minute or so it was clear that I was dealing
with explosive diarrhea. It's amazing how grease can make its
way through your intestines far faster than the food
which spawned the grease to begin with, but I digress...


I got up from the table and made my way to the bathroom.
Upon entering, I saw two sinks immediately inside the door, two
urinals just to the right of the sinks, and two toilet stalls
against the back wall. One of them was a handicapped bathroom. Now,
normally I would have gone to the handicapped stall since I like to
stretch out a bit when I take a good shit, but in this case, the door
lock
wasbroken and the only thing I hate worse than my wife telling me to
stop cutting my toenails with a pair of diagonal wirecutters is
having someone walk in on me while I am taking a shit. I went to
the normal stall.

In retrospect, I probably should have gone to the large,
>handicapped stall even though the door would not lock because that
bit of time lost in making the stall switch proved to be a bit too long
under the circumstances. By the time I had walked into the regular
stall, the pressure on my ass was reaching Biblical proportions.

I began "The Move."

For those women who may be reading this, let me take a
moment to explain "The Move." Men know exactly what their bowels are
up to at any given second. And when the time comes to empty the
cache, a sequence of physiological events occur that can not be
stopped under any circumstances. There is a move men make that
involves simultaneously approaching the toilet, beginning the body
turn to position ones ass toward said toilet, hooking ones fingers
into ones waistline, and pulling down the pants while beginning the
squat at the same time. It is a very fluid motion that, when
performed properly, results in the flawless expulsion of shit at the
exact
same second that ones ass is properly placed on the toilet seat. Done
properly, it even assures that the choad is properly inserted into
the front rim of the toilet in the event that the piss stream lets loose
at the same time; it is truly a picture of coordination rivaling that
of a skilled ballet dancer.

I was about half-way into "The Move" when I looked down at
the floor and saw a pile of vomit that had been previously expelled
by one of those little bastards attending kids night; it was mounded
up in the corner so I did not notice it when I had first walked into
the stall. Normally, I would not have been bothered by such a thing,
but I had eaten so much and the pressure upward was so intense, that
I hit a rarely experienced gag reflex. And once that reflex
started, combined with the intense pressure upward caused by the
bloated stomach, four plates of macaroni and beef started coming up
for a rematch.
What happened next was so quick that the exact sequence of
events are a bit fuzzy, but I will try to reconstruct them as best I
can.

In that moment of impending projectile vomiting, my
attention was diverted from the goings-on at the other end. To put a
freeze frame on the situation, I was half crouched down to the
toilet, pants pulled down to my knees, with a load of vomit coming up my
esophagus. Now, most of you know that vomiting takes precedence over
shit no matter what is about to come slamming out of your ass. It is
apparently an evolutionary thing since shitting will not kill you,
but vomiting takes a presence of mind to accomplish so that you do not
aspirate any food into the bronchial tubes and perhaps choke to
death.

My attention was thus diverted.
At that very split second, my ass exploded in what can only
be described as a wake...you know, as in a newspaper headline
along the lines of "30,000 Killed In Wake of Typhoon Fifi" or
something similar. In what seemed to be most suitably measured in
cubic feet, an enormous plug of shit the consistency of thick mud with
embedded pockets of greasy liquid came flying out of my ass. But
remember, I
was only half-way down on the toilet at that moment. The shit wave was
of such force and of just such an angle in relation to the back curve of
the
toilet seat that it ricocheted off the back of the seat and slammed into
the wall at an angle of incidence equal to the angle at which it
initially
hit the toilet seat. Then I sat down.

Recall that when that event occurred, I was already
half-way to sitting anyway and had actually reached the point of no
return. I have always considered myself as relatively stable
gravitationally, but when you get beyond a certain point, you're going
down
no matter how
limber you may be. Needless to say, the shit wave, though of
considerable
force, was not so sufficient so as to completely glance off the toilet
seat
and deposit itself on the walls, unlike what you would see when
hitting a puddle with a high-pressure water hose; even though you throw
water at the puddle, the puddle gets moved and no
water is left to re-form a puddle. There was a significant amount of
shit remaining on about one-third of the seat rim which I had now just
collapsed upon.

Now, back to the vomit...
While all the shitting was going on, the vomit was still on
its way up. By the time I had actually collapsed on the toilet, my
mouth had filled up with a goodly portion of the macaroni and beef I
had just consumed. OK, so what does the human body instinctively do
when vomiting? One bends over. So I bent over. I was still
sitting on the toilet, though. Therefore, bending over resulted in
me placing my head above my now slightly-opened legs, positioned in
in between my knees and waist. Also directly above my pants which were
now
pulled
down to a point just midway between my knees and my ankles. Oh, did
I mention that I was wearing not just pants, but sweat pants with
elastic on the ankles.

In one mighty push, some three pounds of macaroni and beef,
two or three Cokes, and a couple of Big, Fat Yeast Rolls were
deposited in my pants...on the inside...with no ready exit at the
bottom down by my feet.

In the next several seconds, there were a handful of farts,
a couple of turds, and the event ended, yet I was now sitting there
with my pants full of vomit, my back covered in shit that had
bounced off the toilet, spattered on three ceramic-tiled walls to a
height of about five feet, and still had enough force to come back at
me,
covering the back of my shirt with droplets of liquid shit. All while
thick
shit was spread all over my ass in a ring curiously in the shape of a
toilet
seat.
And there was no fucking toilet paper.

What could I do but laugh. I must have sounded like a
complete maniac to the guy who then wandered into the bathroom. He
actually asked if I was OK since I was laughing so hard I must have
sounded
like I was crying hysterically. I calmed down just enough to ask him if
he
would get the manager. And told him to have the manager bring
some toilet paper. When the manager walked in, he brought the toilet
paper with him, but in no way was prepared for what happened next. I
simply told him that there was no way I was going to explain what
was happening in the stall, but that I needed several wet towels and I
needed him to go ask my wife to come help me. I told him where we
were sitting and he left. At that point, I think he was probably
assuming
that I had pissed just a bit in my pants or something similarly
benign.

About two minutes later, my wife came into the bathroom not
knowing what was wrong and with a certain amount of worry in her
voice. I explained to her (still laughing and having trouble getting
out words) that I had a slight accident and needed her help.
Knowing that I had experienced some close calls in the past, she
probably
assumed that I had laid down a small turd or something and just
needed to bring the car around so we could bolt immediately. Until I
asked
her, I'm sure she had no idea that she was about to go across the street
and purchase me new underwear, new socks, new pants, a new
shirt, and (by that time due to considerable leakage around the
elastic ankles thingies) new sneakers. And she then started to laugh
herself since I was still laughing. She began to ask for an
explanation as to what had happened when I promised her that I would
tell
her
later, but that I just needed to handle damage control for the time
being.
She left.

The manager then came back in with a half-dozen wet towels
and a few dry ones. I asked him to also bring a mop and bucket upon
which he assured me that they would clean up anything that needed to
be cleaned. Without giving him specific details, I explained
that what was going on in that stall that night was far in excess of
what I would expect anyone to deal with, what with most of the
folks working at Ryan's making minimum wage of just slightly above.
At that moment, I think it dawned on him exactly the gravity of the
situation. Then that manager went so far above the call of duty that
I will be eternally grateful for his actions. He hooked up a hose.

Fortunately, commercial bathrooms are constructed with tile
walls and tile floors and have a drain in the middle of the room in
order to make clean up easy. Fortunately, I was in a commercial
bathroom. He hooked up the hose to the spigot located under the sink
as I began cleaning myself up with the wet towels. Just as I was
finishing, my wife got back with the new clothes and passed them
into the stall, whereupon I stuffed the previously worn clothing into
the
plastic bag that came from the store, handing the bag to my wife. I
finished cleaning myself off and carefully put on my new clothes,
still stuck in the stall since I figured that it would be in bad
taste to go out of the stall to get redressed in the event I happened to
be standing there naked and some little bastard kid walked in. At that
point, I had only made a mess; I had not yet committed a felony and
intended to keep it that way.

When I finished getting dressed, I picked up the hose and
cleaned up the entire stall, washing down the remains toward the
drain in the center of the room. I put down the hose and walked out of
the bathroom. I had intended to go to the manager and thank him
for all he had done, but when I walked out, three of the management
staff were there to greet me with a standing ovation. I started
laughing so hard that I thought I was going to throw up again, but
managed to scurry out to the car where my wife was now waiting to pick
me up
by the front door.

The upshot of all this is that I strongly recommend eating
dinner at Ryan's Steak House. They have, by far, the nicest
management staff of any restaurant in which I have eaten.

[mtr25500]

erm, no.

[infinitekidM2C]

off-topic posts don't count newb

[my nuts on your face]

I was at the rock climbing gym one day, wearing some shorts of course. I went to sit down at the base of a climb and realized I might have to fart. So, not wanting to laugh myself off the wall when I fart doing a strenuous move, I decide to push the little sucker out before I go. BIG mistake! I pushed a turd about half way out the ole stink hole...luckily i realized it fast enough to suck about half off what was out back in before accidentally pinchin a little too hard and severing the caboose from the train. Needless to say, I was praying nothing would fall out of my boxers and shorts!!! on the way to the bathroom! Meanwhile there were a few girls mixed in with my buddies sitting on the mats behind me...thank god no one knew what happened! lol

[TroyDeJ]

never shat myself yet... but theres still a lot of room left in my life for that incident to occur. but there have been a ton of close calls. My dad always told me "never trust a fart" lol

[Dvdman]

Never have either but many close calls. I am older now and have grown wiser not to trust certain farts.