I’m pretty sure I’ve told this story before, but it’s been years. I tried to track it down in the archives, and couldn’t find it. Man, that old FrontPage site was a real turd, wasn’t it? Wow! Why didn’t somebody tell me?
Anyway, this sordid tale takes place in the mid-1980s, when I was living in Greensboro, NC. I was dating a woman I’ll call… Sharon. You know, since that’s her name.
Very early in our relationship Sharon asked if I’d be interested in joining her and her parents for a five-day (or so) trip to Charleston, SC. Her folks had a friend with a house on one of the islands off the coast, and they visited every summer.
I had concerns about this, because things were going well between the two of us. And too much togetherness, too early in the process, has a way of ruining things. Ya know? But I also didn’t want to reject such a monumental invitation. This was a big step, for sure.
So, we all piled into Sharon’s parents’ car, and rode from Greensboro to Charleston. I remember her dad would prop open the hood of the car, to allow the engine to “breathe,” every time we stopped somewhere. I’d never known anyone to do such a thing, and was quite confused.
When we arrived at the house on the island, I was horrified to see that the entire place was tricked out with blindingly white carpet. It was the brightest white I’d ever seen, and I had visions of myself tromping in there like a big ol’ hick, with railroad grease all over my shoes, or something. Right away I was nervous. It was like a blank sheet of paper, and I was the Hemingway of dipshittery.
They assigned one bedroom to me and Sharon, with only one bed in there, and that also surprised me. My parents would’ve put us on opposite ends of the house, and locked us down until morning. But apparently we were expected to, you know, sleep together. Amazing.
Right away I saw that there was only one bathroom, and it was located off the kitchen, if you can believe it. I mean, it was right there, with no hallway or anything. And everybody hung out in the kitchen all the time, drinking wine and talking.
Not good. I couldn’t use that toilet, it would be like crapping on stage — inside a theater with superior acoustics. Everything would be highly amplified, and what about the… stink? Oh god. This was a bad situation.
I decided I’d try to ride it out. I realize now how foolhardy that plan was, but it was made in the heat of battle. I thought I could go five days without a sit-down, and avoid the humiliation of a Carnegie Hall dump. Ha!
Yeah, it was smooth sailing for the first two days or so. Then the cramping started kicking in. My stomach was making all sorts of sounds, and people were laughing about it. I was starting to feel like the Michelin Man, expanding by the hour. I just hoped I wouldn’t explode in a spectacular supernova of poop, all over that crazy carpet.
On Day Three, or thereabouts, Sharon and I took the car out, and parked with some beers, overlooking the ocean. It was a romantic setting, and we started messing around. Eventually we climbed into the backseat, and things were leading from one thing to another.
Then I moved in a certain way, and farted like a cruise ship coming into the harbor. It was incredibly loud, and seemed to last forever. I was completely mortified, and wanted to just go down to the beach and walk straight into the surf. It sounded like a blast off a sousaphone, and a thousand birds fled the trees.
I’m sure the look on my face was something to remember, and Sharon busted out laughing. We didn’t really know each other all that well, but she turned out to have a sense of humor closely aligned to mine. So, she thought it was hilarious, which helped a little. But not much.
After I explained my problem, and once she wiped the tears of laughter from her eyes, Sharon told me about a second bathroom, in the basement of the house. So, when we returned I disappeared for a while, and I don’t want to be too graphic… but I think it was above the rim by the time everything was over.
I remember it was incredibly hot down there. It was an unfinished basement, with no air conditioning. It was like a blast furnace, and I was completely drenched in sweat when I returned to civilization. Sharon saw me, all sweaty and slick, and started laughing all over again.
Sheesh. At least I didn’t soil the woman’s ridiculous carpet. That was my one small victory on the trip… Yeah, but it was kind of difficult to focus on the positives, after that humiliation. Good grief.
If you have any similar stories to tell, please have at it in the comments section. And I’m going to work now.
I’ll see you guys tomorrow.
Now playing in the bunker
Evil Twin t-shirts now only $13!
First!
#2!!!!!!!
When I’m done pissing myself from laughing so hard, I’ll come back. Oh god, I remember that post from the first time around & it just got better the second time. Hahahahahahahaha!
Yeah, I’m not going to try and follow that. Simply fantastic update. You brought the A-game this afternoon. Hilarious.
“like a cruise ship coming into the harbor” and “like a blast off a sousaphone, and a thousand birds fled the trees” had me stifling laughter. My coworkers are now convinced of my complete lack of sanity.
I vaguely remember the first go-round with this story. Wasn’t the first iteration a little more…graphic? This one was hilarious anyway, as usual. Thanks for de-crapifying my Tuesday, Jeff!
i hate those friggin bathrooms right next to the kitchen, like whos sick idea was that?
Ah, yes. That story was a classic! Jeff & his reticent poophole!! Sharon was probably like, “Just go crap already, would ‘ja”?
Awesome entry.
Wow! Top Ten!!!
Out-fucking-standing!!! I’ll be back after I clean the mascara tears off my face.
Damned funny, Jeff. I won’t even try to compete.
Re: Today’s Further Evidence. Does Jimmy McMillan have an old man’s testicles adhered to his chin??
“…..a thousand birds fled the trees.” OMG……I nearly spit coffee all over my monitor! I remember the original post about this, but I like this version even better!
Thanks for the laughs Jeff…..as always!
I couldn’t make up a story that funny! Thanks, I needed that!
Jeff must have a sphincter made of iron. I don’t think I could go that long without a #2…it would wind up looking like an explosion at a chili factory–or something!
I’m still pondering however, why in the world someone would put white carpet in a vacation home?
Good Afternoon Surf Reporters……
Is this early incident behind the reason why Jeff won’t poop at work?
Nope, just another example of him doing all he can to avoid pooping in any toilet but his own.
For the root of the problem, I think we’d have to delve back into some of his earliest childhood memories. Like the time when he was three years old, and his family was visiting his great-aunt way out in the holler, and he was sitting down to poop in the outhouse, and a squirrel that had been down their scavenging corn kernels came back up and bit him on the ass. Or something like that.
That would explain it!
OMG! My grandma had a one bathroom house with the crapper right off the kitchen. Heck, it might as well have been in the kitchen. People used to think I hated visiting my grandparents, but I simply required a more private bathroom.
Don’t remember this one the first time Jeff, but I just laughed my ass off. Thanks.
When I was training to be a flight attendant (many moons ago), I was roomies with a fun girl from Kentucky. This girl was very girly-girly & always did the correct things around the correct people & made the rest of us look like chumps when it comes to the manners department. But, she was funny & a good person, so I liked her.
One night we all decided to let loose since we were going to be “graduating” (we had our hub airports picked & were bound to leave in two days) & we wanted to get seriously drunk & just enjoy the company before we all went our ways. There were about 15 of us partying in one of the rooms & everyone was having a good time. My Kentucky roomate, *Donna (her name also…) had a major crush on one of the only straight guys in our group & thought he had the same feelings. They were talking all night & she was getting more & more drunk as the evening progressed. Then he wanted to sit but all the chairs were taken. So he sat on the floor. He put his hand up to help her sit on the floor & just as she began to squat….she farted. Not something silent. This sucker was LOUD. There had been music playing on a stereo & we could all hear it over that. I was mortified for her & was waiting for her to run out of the room screaming, but as the silence grew (nobody knew what to do or say…) she just began to laugh. At first I thought she was crying, but then she threw her head back & just laughed and laughed. Of course he kind of did a nervous ‘heh-heh’ kind of laugh but eventually he laughed too.
She told me later she had never farted in public before so she was very embarassed but figured it was too late to deny it or run out, so she just laughed it off. She had given him her number before that happened and surprisingly enough, he never called her.
I thought it was pretty funny, myself….
Wow, he missed out on a very fun girl! he he!!!
Did she go on to establish “cake farts”?
That website is sick.
This story should be in the dictionary under “LOL”
Jeff, I haven’t laugh so hard since the last Nancy/Nostril story!
Hemingway of dipshittery?
de-crapifying?
Great Phrase. Good word.
TheWVSR. Funny and educational!
Before I moved in with my now husband, my family liked to give me a hard time about only coming home during the weekend to “grow a tail”, so one weekend I just figured I would go over at my boyfriends house. I clogged the toilet and could have died. He was outside mowing while I frantically tried to find a plunger and failing that, find a way to flush the evidence. I was so mad at my family for making me do it at his house, it was several more months before I tried again.
Drink up and be happy
Live just for today
Drown in cheap tequila
And flush yourself away.
Brilliant post. I laughed out a bit too loud though and totally ruined my “pretending to work” face.
You should submit that gem to http://www.poopreport.com . Seriously.
Thanks, Jeff. I’m trying hard not to be my deconstructionist self, but that was just a story about going on vacation with your girlfriend’s family and farting at an embarrassing time. Just shows, a story is all in the telling. I was chuckling with increasing volume. I lost control at “sousaphone”. And, for some reason, I was also laughing at myself for waiting for the cruise ship portion of the story to kick in.
Nice story; not a word out of place. What we in the porn business call a money shot. Thanks.
jtb
Does anybody have a spare copy of “Everybody Poops” that they can send along to Jeff? If not, I just might use the Amazon link to have one sent to him.
Although having Jeff get a handle (not a spoon handle, mind you) on his elimination issues may mean that we’ll miss out on future #2-related episodes, so….never mind.
I dated this guy during my senior year in high school and after graduation for a while. Every Sunday morning his overbearing mother expected us in church and for Sunday “supper” to follow at the house. The one and ONLY baffroom in the entire house was right off of the kitchen. Not only was it the only baffroom, it was also the laundry room housing the washer and dryer. To make matters worse, the door was one of those cheap louvered, plywood doors. LOUVERED!! TF??
My sphincter must have been on a timer because as soon as everyone sat down to eat, I was prairie doggin’. If I was lucky enough, his mother was doing laundry too. I’d try to coordinate my drop with the spin cycle. Good times.
Not that I want to, but I may be able to top this. There aren’t many people I’ve relayed this story to, but I’m going to take the plunge.
I moved to a new school in 8th grade. I had been in Catholic school so up until this point, my idea of a “gym” was either a concrete parking lot or the hall downstairs that served as the audiorium and the Ladies Guild room and anything else they needed a big space for. I move and suddenly there are weight rooms, a track, lacorsse fileds, goal posts, the whole nine yards.
Anyway, I wasn’t feeling great one night – my stomach was bugging me so my mom told me to take “the pink stuff”. The only pink stuff I could find was a box of Correctol laxatives. I saw “bloating and cramping” on the box, so I thought I was good to go. I popped two and didn’t give it a second thought.
It should be noted here, I have very regular, swiss clock-like bowels so I couldn’t foresee the impending doom.
The next day in gym class we’re going to run the 50 yard dash. I’m no athlete, but I’m in a new school and trying to win over some firends. I take off at breakneck speed and every food particle I had ingested within the past month made a stampede to my colon and out the back door. Yes, I had shit running down my legs and seeping into the back of my gym bloomers. I wanted to run out into oncoming traffic.
I can almost laugh about it now. I mean it has been 35 years….
There is nothing funnier than a great poo story.
Madz1962, that was AWESOME!!!
LMAO ….I would have quit school !
I remember this story and it has once again reminded me what a musically expresive instrument the sousaphone can be.
As for close quater crappers…hotel rooms. Me and Derf always roomed together and if either one of us had a guest it was weird. Derf had stomach issues and once when we had some girls in the room he needed to be excused and went right into the can. Closed the door and about 5 seconds later yelled, “TURN UP THE MUSIC!!”, and then proceeded an attempt to blow the bottom out of the toilet. I didn’t get to the volume knob in time and the sound that was going on in that room was as embarrassing as flat out funny. The girls busted a gut and we laughed a good hour on that. Hadn’t even had the bong out yet so it was real. Hence to this day when ever we see each other…..”Turn up the music!”
Forgot to mention….Derf married one of those girls, Chris (I’m not making that up) about 35 years ago and they’re still together.
I once took a major dump at a rock music venue during a show. There was no bathroom door, or stall door so I could talk to people when they walked by. It was hard to get started, but then everything flowed smoothly.
And speaking of dysentery, the McRib will be available nationwide, starting November 2nd, for six weeks!
Yeh but it has pickles and onions. No one puts that on pork except maybe Rachael Ray.
Should I buy Mickey D’s Stock? Or sell?
Speaking of no door, this little hole in the wall bar I frequent, has no stall door. I’ve never had to shit in the place but a couple of guys I drink there with just use the womens restroom. Did I mention it was a hole in the wall, maybe I should say shithole, not a lot of women in there needing the restroom.
Hahaha! I have very similar poop phobias! I swear whenever Ben and I go on a trip, I’m not thinking the scenery, I’m thinking about what’s going to happen if and when I suddenly get ‘those cramps’. It’s those kind of cramps that are impossible to hold, you need to get to a bathroom, or a distaster of biblical porportions will unleash onto the world. I am notorious for having the bowels (and bladder) of a old woman, and I can’t even tell you how many stories I have that sound very similar to this.
Back in highschool, I was at a party at my friend’s house out in the country. I always thought it was strange because they had one bathroom, and that one bathroom was literally 2 feet away from the kitchen table. There were a ton of people at this party, and suddenly, I got the attack of the unstoppable ‘cramps’…I think I actually started to sweat…looking from the bathroom to the people, bathroom to the people…For a second, I seriously considered going out in the yard. Finally, I ran outside, ran to my car, and flew about 400 miles per hour, 6 or 7 miles back into town and went at a gas station that I knew was a one occupancy only bathroom. I didn’t even tell my friends or boyfriend at the time where I was going, just booked it.
Now I don’t care. I’m still bathroom shy in a busy restaurant bathroom or something, but at someone’s house I really don’t care. I just flush 6 or 7 times.
Service station dump stops scare me. It seems that some nutter has always been there before me and swung from the light fittings with a sprinkler stuffed up their arse. Then before leaving they pee on the floor and steal the loo roll.
During the 80’s a mate of mine was in a busy night club with a friend and got talking to 2 girls. In the true spirit of the 80’s he was wearing white trousers and some sort of big puffy shirt (you can see where this is going can’t you?)
Everything was going well, drinks were flowing and the promise of a knee trembler outside was looking positive. When the girls went to the bathroom together, my mate stated that he had been brewing up a fart for ages and thought it only right to lift his leg and set it free. Unfortunately he was a little over exuberant, followed through and shit his pants. Not just a little either. Nope, a fully grown brown trout and a bucket of gravy.
After legging it outside, he swore his friend to secrecy. His friend told absolutely everyone he knew, and a few that he didn’t. For years afterwards complete strangers would walk up to him in the street to ask if he was the bloke who crapped his whack in a crowded club.
Could have been worse. Could have been me!
Hahaha! That is the best story! I would’ve bought that man white trousers every Christmas after!
Ah, the dreaded shart….
Lol I forgot the term Shart ! Phillip Seymour Hoffman in Along Came Polly . He was great!
LOL, I love the phrase “knee trembler.” So expressive, and so apt!
CLASSIC!
http://worldwidewebgems.com/archives/farts-you-just-cant-trust-them/
I was junior in college, decked out in full preppy regalia (pink polo under blue oxford-cloth shirt under pink overalls + docksiders) and feeling like a million bucks when my boyfriend, unbeknownst to me, runs up behind me, swoops me up in a big hug, and squeezes a gigantic fart right outta me and onto his lap.
Sexay.
I just about sunk into the ground, but then he started laughing, and I fell in love with him a little more.
Another story, real quick. Biff, on our first (or so) date, which involved much travel so they were each a weekend long, declared (after much clenching, I’m sure) that we were ‘poopin friends’ while I was in the lone shower in the lone bathroom, and thus it has been ever since. Having one bathroom necessitates a certain relaxation of some rules, ya know?
A few years ago in Mexico I had been blessed with a touch of the Montezuma’s Revenge. I went to a club, that I believe was shaped like a pirate ship, with my friends for the night. About two hours after arriving I realized that poop was coming and there was nothing I could do to stop it. I sprinted for the bathroom. When I entered there was only one stall open, so I went for it. The toilet was hopelessly clogged with other people’s, ahem, excrement but it didn’t matter. I did the deed only to see that there was no TP, just the cardboard roll hanging there. I asked the next stall, he said he was out of luck as well. I had no other choice, so I shredded the cardboard roll and used that. After I pulled up my pants, I opened the door and some guy came charging in. I looked at him and said, “There’s no TP, dude!” and his reply was screamed back “I DON”T CARE!!!!!!” To this day I have no idea what that guy used for TP since there was literally nothing left in the stall to use.
In my house in Vegas the ‘master bedroom’ shared a common wall (talk to each other through kinda wall) with the one in the hall…the one Bev took as her’s. We were pretty much on the same schedule and one morning as we each sat and did our morning chores and various noises were shared…I sang, “Isn’t it romantic”, in full suave voice.To this day it’s one or favorite laughs whenever I do it and it doesn’t matter where I sing it. Three words.Laughs for years.
Damn…I left out these were bathrooms on each side of that wall. You probably figured that out.
…the “master bedroom” bathroom shared….
Chuck…
Is that the chorus to a Jackie Jack Snowdrift song or a suicide note? Let me know if you need an intervention, or more tequila.
jtb
When the Evil Twin and I moved in together, we had one bathroom on the main floor of our apartment and one completely disgusting toilet downstairs (which used to be a separate apartment at some point). I would skitter down there to do #2. Then, one day, a rat clambered over my feet and ran off. I didn’t care. I kept using that toilet until we moved and got married. I DID NOT want him to hear or smell any poo action. Nearly 20 years later? I don’t even care, and we have 3 bathrooms. LOL.
Just watched the Further Evidence link. Hmmm, I’ve heard what The Rent is Too Damn High Party had to say and I think my vote is still with The Standing at the Back Dressed Stupidly and Looking Stupid Party, which apparently now has its own Facebook page. How delightful.
http://www.facebook.com/group.php?gid=48551408783#!/group.php?gid=48551408783&v=wall
Wow, I haven’t laughed like that in a long time. Great post. And before I forget, belated congratulations on 10 years! That’s, like, an eternity in net.time.
Nothing similar, save for the minor shart as I was *arriving* at a client’s site one morning. Fortunately I was wearing the brown pants.
As for the FrontPage site, I’ve built worse. And I’m old enough to remember when “content” was “king”. If the writing is good, it doesn’t matter (much) what the site looks like. Although I understand there are other issues from the maintainer’s perspective. Flash is still of the devil, BTW.
.
jtb,
Johnny Winter.
only song i could think of that had flush in it.
Something really sad happened a couple blocks away in my little town yesterday. I’m glad I can come here and get a laugh or a couple dozen. Thank you all.
Sorry, hope it gets better.
I have been reading the archives , I just read the original a few days ago. It’s worth reading again and for those of you who have not read it ….
http://thewvsr.com/fatass102001.htm
Its Oct 5th 2001. Some of the details of todays post were not in the original so it’s cool to get the updated version as well !
Chuck…
Sorry to hear about that. Sounds like even smoke detectors might not have saved the little girl. My condolences to your neighborhood and your town.
jtb
About four years ago, I was at a temporary kitchen job that required me to arrive at 5:00 AM. I usually left the house about 4:30. Very quietly, as to not wake up any fambly members, since I don’t like to see them in the morning. I got out the front door, very quietly locking it from the outside and had my morning smoke before entering my car, since I don’t smoke in my car. The plethora of chemicals triggered a sphincter burning assplosion and I had no time to get back into the house quietly, so I pulled down my pants and went in my yard beside the house…violently. Walked to my car with said panys around my ankles and grabbed an old T-shirt to “clean up”. Once I finished, I went to throw T-Shirt in garbage and heard a voice asking “Feel better now?” The 70 year old woman that lived next door was outside the entire time, sitting in a lawn chair waiting for the morning paper to come. I didn’t say a word and just got in my car and went to work. Had forgotten all about it until that evening when I pulled in the driveway and a colony of about ten thousand flies were gathered in my yard and same old woman standing there saying “You really need to do something about those flies”. Gotta lay off the “Dave’s Insanity” hot sauce.
That now is the funniest thing I’ve read yet. I love the poop stories early in the morning!
Yeah…not “panys” but “pants”. Panys are another story.
Yet again, a poop story has brought me to tears!!!!!!
Great comments everyone! I love this site!