Poop 'n Scoop - Tales from the CAN

The Steakhouse Incident

2005-05-09T09:41:00.000-07:00

Thanks a lot Rick from www.rickharrison.net for letting us post his very unique Steakhouse Experience ! Here it is in his own words:

The Steakhouse Incident

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 was broken and the only thing I hate worse than my wife telling me to stop cutting my toenails with a pair of diagonal wire cutters 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 crotched 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 shitting 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 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.

Link: http://www.rickharrison.net/laughs/The%20Steakhouse%20Incident.htm

TOTAL RELEASE

2005-04-28T13:16:00.000-07:00

Got another great story submitted by Big Louie !

Here it is in his own words:

As promised, here’s another tale from the brown-tailed boy

This story took place in the land of the liquid lunches, when me-self spent
a good six-months in Ireland in an attempt to earn the title of the Iron
Liver. Throughout me search of the golden-grail, I’ve came across a few
interesting obstacles, most of which were resolved in the local bar’s loo,
or shit-hole, as they like to call it.

Before we get on w/ the story, let me side track a little and talk about the
piss-to-pint ratio. Regardless of weight, height, size, and alcohol
tolerance, the number of pints you down during an evening will result in the
exact number of times you have to piss. I know some of you might be
thinking, “I can hold me piss in me bladder for the whole night!!” and I’m
sure you’ve all probably tried. The truth is however, you can hold the first
one in for maybe two hours or so, but as soon as you start pissing that
first piss, you’ll end up going again and again until you’ve pissed all them
pints back out. Hence, the piss-to-pint ratio will always be 1:1. Anyway,
back to my story.

After work one evening, me and a couple of the lads down in the trade floor
went to a nearby traditional Irish pub, supposedly been around for hundreds
of years, resulting in some of the most primitive toilet system I've ever
seen in me life. Being really lucky, we found ourselves a row of stools
right in front of the bar (and trust me on this, those suckers are hard to
come by, especially on a Friday evening) and proceeded in a liver-abusing
marathon. The Craic was up to 90, and everyone was havin’ a grande ‘ol time,
the discussion was great, and all was well. Not wanting to miss out on the
banter (nor our great seats), we sat and drank until our legs were crossed
and our bladders were on the verge of exploding. Enough’s enough, I said,
and proceeded to the little boy’s wee-wee room.

I swung opened them doors, and the nastiest of nasty smell came rushing into
me nose and I swear, I thought an Anaconda was trying to wiggle it’s way in
me nostrils. I thought for sure a bloke’s been here and letted one rip (or
a million), but I was not ready at the mess I was about to see. You see,
unlike Canada, the loo’s in Ireland are small, with one stall and maybe one
piss bowl. So basically as soon as you go in, you get to see the whole lot.
I walked pass the stall, and saw a small pool of Guinness-tinted crap over
the floor, but the bowl was full of vomit. I take it the poor sap was trying
to yack, which he did, but in the process, crapped his pants and some leaked
onto the floor.

Upon returning to the lads, and realizing I just lost my seat to some old
broad, I told them about what I had just witnessed. They were almost
positive it was someone who just left, because while I was gone, some fat
dude started storming out of the pub, leaving a trail of furious smell
behind. The moral of the story is: Drink Guinness in moderation because the
hops helps digestion. Usually the crap session will be smooth and relaxing,
but there ain’t no stopping the stout b/c it will clean out your system.

The Unsinkable

2005-04-25T07:15:00.000-07:00

We got an awesome story submitted by another one of our loyal reader. Thanks a lot, Big Louie !

Here it is in his own words:

My doctor always ask me whenever I go to him for a checkup, "Have you taken a crap today?" said in a more appropriate manner. For me, going to the can for a daily visit is a very important part of my daily routine. I try hard to eat my fair share of vegetables, fibre and fruits. But occasionally, you end up cramming animals into your mouth for nights straight and the next thing you know, you've missed dropping the kids off the pool for a few consecutive days. My 'poop-&-scoop' story began on a Thursday night out w/ my girlfriend to a Korean restaurant. After a fulfilling Korean supper that night and a Hot-Pot supper the following night, it's safe to say that my digestive system was working over-time trying to get everything processed and out my system (Kim-Chi acted as the catalyst).

On the weekends, I hit the local library for a full afternoon of studying, and this is where things got, umm, awkward. Not realizing that I've missed my regular 'shit sessions' for two days straight, I decided to take a break from the mental stimulation I was getting from equity valuation and shifted to intestinal stimulation instead. As any civilized creature would do, upon visiting a public toilet, I casually lined the bowl w/ layers of premium toilet paper (after a thorough wipe down of the bowl and a safety flush) and yanked off me trousers and proceeded w/ making a re-run of the bombing of Hiroshima. The Kim-Chi from Thursday coupled w/ the massive amount of veggies I ate on Friday resulted in the biggest piece of shit to have ever wiggled it's way out me arse-hole.

After such a relaxing dump, I sat in the can for a few minutes longer to regain my strength, and proceeded w/ wiping me arse. I stood up, pulled my trousers back on, and flushed the toilet. I watched in horror as the water level went down, my monster shit struggled to go thru the little hole in the toilet, the water level started to rise and my log of shit dropped to the floor. At that point, I said, "F%$# this, I'm outta here!" Ran out the stall, washed my hands quickly since the water was coming out of the stall as well, and the crap was rolling around, swimming in the pool of water that was coming out. It looked like a boat floating near the bottom of a water-fall almost.

As soon as I left the washroom, I saw a little boy walk in and he stood at the door, wide-eyed and in awe, at the destruction I've caused. I proceeded back to my station and returned to the land of equity valuation.

The Shit List

2005-04-15T09:12:00.000-07:00

This was submitted to us by one our loyal reader:

From the Lots of Jokes site: http://www.lotsofjokes.com

Sometimes when shit happens, you want to be able to articulate the experience more than just you've, taken a shit. Here are some shit definitions to help you explain the situation better to your friends and family...

Ghost Shit

You know you've shit. There's shit on the toilet paper, but no shit in the bowl.

Teflon Coated Shit

Comes out so slick, clean and easy that you don't feel it. No traces of shit on the toilet paper, you have to look in the bowl to be sure you did it!

Gooey Shit

This has the consistency of hot tar. You wipe your ass 12 times and it still doesn't come clean. You end up putting toilet paper in your underwear so you don't stain it. This shit leaves permanent skid marks in the toilet.

Second Thought Shit

You're all done wiping your ass and you're about to stand up when you realize it.....you've got some more.

Pop a Vein in Your Forehead Shit

This kind is the kind of shit that killed Elvis. It doesn't come until you're all sweaty, trembling and purple from straining so hard.

Bali Belly Shit

You shit so much you lose 5 kilos.

Right Now Shit

You better be within 10 seconds of a toilet. Usually it has its head out before you get your pants down.

King Kong or Commode Choker Shit

This shit is so big that you know it won't go down the toilet unless you break it into smaller chunks. A coat hanger works well. This kind of shit usually happens at someone else's house.

Wet Cheeks Shit

This shit hits the water sideways and makes a BIG splash that gets your ass wet.

Wish Shit

You sit there all cramped up and fart a few times, but no shit!

Cement Block or Oh God Shit

You wish you'd gotten a spinal block before you shit.

Snake Shit

This shit is fairly soft and about as big around as your thumb and at least three feet long.

Cork Shit (Also Known as Floater Shit)

Even after the third flush, it's still floating in there. My god! How do I get rid of it? This shit usually happens at someone else's house.

Mexican Food Shit (also called Screamers)

You'll know it's alright to eat again when your asshole stops burning.

Beer Drunk Shit

This happens the day after the night before. Normally your shit doesn't smell too bad, but this shit is BAD. Usually there's somebody standing outside to use the bathroom. This kind of shit also usually happens at someone else's house.

The Frightened Turtle

The kind of shit that just pokes its head out then quickly goes back in

The Bungee Shit

The kind of shit that just hangs off your ass before it falls into the water.

The Ring of Fire Shit

The kind of shit where you eat really spicy food and your asshole feels like the inside of a cigarette lighter.

The Crippler

The kind of shit where you have to sit on the toilet so long your legs go numb from the waist down.

The Big Bobber

The kind of shit that no matter how many times you flush it always floats back to the surface.

The Shitty Shitty Bang Bang

The kind of shit that hits you when you're trapped in your car in a traffic jam.

The Incredible Hulk Shit

The king of shit that sits in the toilet overnight and mysteriously expands to twice it's normal size.

The Jack the Ripper Shit

The kind of shit that yanks out the hair of your ass as it pushes its way out.

The Party Pooper

The giant shit you take at a party. And when you flush the toilet, you watch in horror as the water starts to rise.

The Toxic Gas Shit

The kind of shit that makes you pass out and fall of the toilet before you finish, and then you wake up in some strange South American town.

Dirty Bowl Shit

The kind of shit that comes out in a million pieces a second, reminiscent of an avalanche - but with rocket propulsion, and splatters all over the toilet bowl.

The Windy City Shit

When you sit down, and fart for so long and hard that you no longer need to take a shit.

Oh Shit! Shit

You shit so much and wipe your ass so furiously you run out of toilet paper and you say OH SHIT!

The Never Ending Shit

It's the shit that keeps running out of your ass like pea, and just when you start wiping your ass your stomach gargles and splash, more shit runs out. This always happens after eating at Kentucky Fried Chicken.

Ouch That Hurt Shit

The type of shit that leaves you feeling like you just hoped onto a bicycle without a seat. Sensation usually lasts hours.

Pressure or Pleasure ?

2005-04-14T06:22:00.000-07:00

Another one from Scoop:

This other time I was peeing away at my office washroom, this guy rushed into the washroom and start going at the urinal next to mine. Right when he start peeing , he was like "ooooh, phhheeeew". Then 4 seconds later, a loud "phhhheeeeewI !". I swear this guy sounds like he is having an orgasm while peeing. Then comes some heavy breathing from him. At this point I'm completely freaked out so I finish off as quickly as I possibily can, washed my hands for like 1 second and got the hell out of there.

Get this, after I've gone back to my cubicle, I told one of my neighbor co-worker about this guy and right away he gave me a physical description of this guy and asked me if this is the person I was talking about ! Turned out he had a similar encounter awhile ago.

My advise to this person is, if you are getting a big rush just from peeing, I suggest going to a doctor cause there is obviously something wrong with your plumbing. However, if you are purposely holding it in till the last minute, STOP DOING IT !!! Its not good for your body and you are freaking out everyone here in the office !

The Swinging Turret

2005-04-13T06:13:00.000-07:00

More personal encounters from Scoop:

I got a short tale to share with everyone.

One time I was happily urinating at one of my office washroom and this big guy came here and started doing his thing. This is a small washroom so there's only two urinals. Therefore big boy was standing right beside me. See, most people when they urinate take a good hold of their unit, aim, and then commence peeing. Not big boy over here, this guy, who happens to be about 6 ft 2" , 250lbs with a big gut (Picture Humpty Dumpty), pees with his hands in his pants pockets, while swinging his body slowly from side to side as he pees !! Whether he is trying to cover the entire urinal with his piss or he is just having fun peeing, no body knows but this is by the far the weirdest form of peeing stance that I have ever witness.

Also, this begs the question, what the heck is hold down his underpants while he is peeing with his hands in his pocket ??!!! or a better question would be, was he even wearing one ?!!

Collateral Damage

2005-04-12T12:08:00.000-07:00

Poop reporting:

Well this story goes back to about 1985, when I worked at McDonald's. The day that this series of tragic events occurred (tragic for me) I was working the lobby (eating area). This place was really busy on the weekends so they needed someone on the floor at all times to clean the mess that some pigs left after munching down on the so called real beef burgers.

One thing that you are to do when working the lobby is to check the bathrooms every 15 mins or so to make sure everything is clean, and good enough to eat off the floor, ok not really.
Sometime during the afternoon shortly after lunch time had gone into the mens bathroom to do my check and all was clean as a whistle. JUST as I'm leaving the bathroom, this guy just comes plowing into me just as I open the door. Figured the guy had to go, but in no way was I prepared to find out just how BAD this guy had to go.

About 10 mins later I jump over to the john to see how things were looking (by this time, the lunch hour rush was just about over) and as I opened the door about 2" the stench was just out of this world! "What the fick is that smell" I thought. I walked in and all looked ok, until I open the door to the stall. Oh my freaking mother of nature. SHIT EVERYWHERE! I mean EVERYWHERE. This guy must have exploded. I was expecting to see brain matter as well with that kind of explosion. Now this is just a guess as to what happened since I didn't see the guy do his biz. But he must of got into the stall, trying desperately to pull his pants down, while his body was in a 90 degree angle he must have just LOST IT. Because 4 ft above the floor was shit on the walls, behind the door, behind the toilet, all over the floor, it was in a 360 degree pattern. HELL it was even on the ceiling! I'm not kidding you!

So I rush out of there and closed the bathroom, went to the back to let my manager know. He thought I was shitting him(ya pun intended) as to how bad it really was. Well, 2 seconds into the bathroom he knew I wasn't shitting him. We walked out of the room, and his "request" to me was that I clean it. My reply to him was, "I QUIT !" There was no freaking way I was going to clean that up. He said I could use the gas mask we had in the back so that the stink wouldn't bother me and a mop, that still wasn't good enough. I wasn't going to clean it with no mop. Then I had an idea of using the hose. I grabbed the thing I screwed it into the tap in the closet that you find in most McD's between the mens and women's bathroom, and was ready to go and hose down the joint. Only to find out that the cold water tap was broken and I couldn't turn it. So I was left with the HOT water. I guess the manager felt a little sorry for me or something he offered to help me and squeegee the floor as I hose it down. So both of use are in the john with super hot water watering down the walls, floors. Just as I got closer to the throne, I noticed that buddy had left his knickers in the toilet. Told the manager, and he said I would have to fish it out, the hell I was going to fish out the underwear. So the full force of the hose and hot water I was able to create enough pressure to flush them down the drain. Shortly after the manager saw that the underwear were gone, asked what I had done with them. I told him I flushed it :) Of course he wasn't to happy with that idea, but hell, I didn't see him offer to pull them out.
We had been hosing the place down for several mins and the amount of steam in the place was almost like a Swedish sauna. We later found out that there had been a customer who had though there was a fire in the bathroom with all the "smoke" coming out from under the door. After a couple hundred liters of hot water the place was good as new.

But this story doesn't end just yet. A few days later of course I'm working again but this time back on the grill. Sometime during the shift all hell broke loose in the back. The sump pump some how failed and it backwashed the drains. Well lets just say we got little chunks of "corn" floating around near the grill among other solid matter. So go ahead and guess what the cause was………….. Yup! The underwear I had flush down the toilet with the hose. Some how it had manage to fry the pump and it all backwashed into the grill area

So my question to this world is…What in the freaking world do people eat to have a explosions like that! Sheeeesh.

Up and Down

2005-04-11T13:30:00.000-07:00

Here's a personal experience from Scoop himself:

It was a warm Friday afternoon. After a big lunch with my co-workers, like most people I felt the need to unload some weights in the washroom. However, being smarter than an average bear, I made sure all the post-lunch bombers were done with their business before I entered the office washroom. Anyhow, so there I was, sitting there at my "corner office" happily unloading when I heard some one came into the washroom. Let's just call him "JT" for now, you'll know why when we get to the end of the story. As mentioned before, I picked the stall in the corner so the chance of having someone sitting next to me is kept to a minimal. JT however, not being the smartest tool in the shed (as you will see later), out of all of the three vacated stalls available, he had to pick the one that is next to mine. Obviously, I'm not too amused by JT's decision but I was determined not letting this guy ruining my precious washroom break so I decided not to abort my mission half way and carried on. This is when things really started to go downhill.

As most of you know, office washroom stalls got some of most flimsy lock that man had ever created. It turned out that the stall that JT picked, had a defective lock and the door would swing open slowly inwards if the lock are not properly snap in. Having about 5 inches of clearance between the floor and wall which separating our stalls, I can clearly see he already had his pants down, sitting happy on the toilet and already started doing his business. This is when the door started to swing in. JT apparently felt committed to this toilet, would then get up every 6 seconds or so, pushed the door close, sat back down, crap some more and then get up and push the door close again. Now I was thinking to myself, what the hell was he thinking ?! go to a different stall !! The guy did this for about seven or eight times when things got from bad to worst. All of a sudden I heard a "blaaaarp", a kind of noise that can only be produced from one's ass and then a loud "OOOH shiiiit". Next I thing I knew, he was pulling toilet paper out of the dispenser like no tomorrow. Yep, you guessed it, it turns out JT got a little too confident with his control skills and sprayed crap all over the toilet seat. So there he was, his pants still down at his ankles, frantically wiping crap off the toilet seat while trying to keep the door close behind him. Then to finish it off, I heard a "splash" and an angry "FUCK ME !" as apparently JT dropped some stuff out his shirt pocket and into the toilet full of shit. At this point, I have totally had it, I quickly finished off my business and got the hell out of there.

The best part about this when JT was busy moving around in his stall, wiping down the seat with his pants down at this ankles I can clearly see his name on his security pass which is chained to this belt so I know exactly who this person is in the office. Yep you guessed it, first name starts with J and last name starts with a T.

The moral of the story is, don't ever get emotionally attached to a toilet, it can get messy.

And it all begins

2005-04-11T09:36:00.000-07:00

Let the fun begin, submit your poop stories