Tuesday, September 6, 2011

Thank you internet, my day is complete.

Here is a story that was posted on 4chan first then on reddit a while ago. One of the greatest shit stories ever.

All in all, it hadn't been a good day. Bad traffic, a malfunctioning computer, incompetent coworkers and a sore back all made me a seething cauldron of rage. But more importantly for this story, it had been over forty-eight hours since I'd last taken a dump. I'd tried to jumpstart the process, beginning my day with a bowl of bowel-cleansing fiber cereal, following it with six cups of coffee at work, and adding a bean-laden lunch at Taco Bell. As I was returning home from work, my insides let me know with subtle rumbles and the emission of the occasional tiny fart that Big Things would be happening soon. Alas, I had to stop at the mall to go Christmas shopping. I completed this task, and as I was walking past the stores on my way back to the car, I noticed a large sale sign proclaiming, "Everything Must Go!" This was prophetic, for my colon informed me with a sudden violent cramp and a wet, squeaky fart that everything was indeed about to go. I hurried to the mall bathrooms. I surveyed the five stalls, which I have numbered 0 through 4 (I write a lot of software) for your convenience:


1.Clean, but Bathroom Protocol forbids its use, as it's next to the occupied one.

2.Poo on seat.

3.Poo and toilet paper in bowl, unidentifiable liquid splattered on seat.

4.No toilet paper, no stall door, unidentifiable sticky object near base of toilet.

Clearly, it had to be Stall #1. I trudged back, entered, dropped trousers and sat down. I'm normally a fairly Shameful Sh1tter. I wasn't happy about being next to the occupied stall, but Big Things were afoot.

I was just getting ready to bear down when all of a sudden the sweet sounds of Beethoven came from next door, followed by a fumbling, and then the sound of a voice answering the ringing phone. As usual for a cell phone conversation, the voice was exactly 8 dB louder than it needed to be. Out of Shameful habit, my sphincter slammed shut. The inane conversation went on and on. Mr. Sh1tter was blathering to Mrs. Sh1tter about the sh1tty day he had. I sat there, cramping and miserable, waiting for him to finish. As the loud conversation dragged on, I became angrier and angrier, thinking that I, too, had a crappy day, but I was too polite to yak about in public. My bowels let me know in no uncertain terms that if I didn't get crapping soon, my day would be getting even crappier.

Finally my anger reached a point that overcame Shamefulness. I no longer cared. I gripped the toilet paper holder with one hand, braced my other hand against the side of the stall, and pushed with all my might. I was rewarded with a fart of colossal magnitude - a cross between the sound of someone ripping a very wet bed sheet in half and of plywood being torn off a wall. The sound gradually transitioned into a heavily modulated low-RPM tone, not unlike someone firing up a Harley. I managed to hit the resonance frequency of the stall, and it shook gently.

Once my ass cheeks stopped flapping in the breeze, three things became apparent: (1) The next-door conversation had ceased; (2) my colon's continued seizing indicated that there was more to come; and (3) the bathroom was now beset by a horrible, eldritch stench. It was as if a gateway to Hell had been opened. The foul miasma quickly made its way under the stall and began choking my poop-mate. This initial "herald" fart had ended his conversation in mid-sentence.

"Oh my God," I heard him utter, following it with suppressed sounds of choking, and then, "No, baby, that wasn't me (cough, gag), you could hear that (gag)??"

Now there was no stopping me. I pushed for all I was worth. I could swear that in the resulting cacophony of rips, squirts, splashes, poots, and blasts, I was actually lifted slightly off the pot. The amount of stuff in me was incredible. It sprayed against the bowl with tremendous force. Later, in surveying the damage, I'd see that liquid poop had actually managed to ricochet out of the bowl and run down the side on to the floor. But for now, all I could do was hang on for the ride.

Next door I could hear him fumbling with the paper dispenser as he desperately tried to finish his task. Little snatches of conversation made themselves heard over my anal symphony: "Gotta go... horrible... throw up...in my mouth... not... make it... tell the kids... love them... oh God..." followed by more sounds of suppressed gagging and retching.

Alas, it is evidently difficult to hold one's phone and wipe one's bum at the same time. Just as my high-pressure abuse of the toilet was winding down, I heard a plop and splash from next door, followed by string of swear words and gags. My poop-mate had dropped his phone into the toilet.

There was a lull in my production, and the restroom became deathly quiet. I could envision him standing there, wondering what to do. A final anal announcement came trumpeting from my behind, small chunks plopping noisily into the water. That must have been the last straw. I heard a flush, a fumbling with the lock, and then the stall door was thrown open. I heard him running out of the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

After a considerable amount of paperwork, I got up and surveyed the damage. I felt bad for the janitor who'd be forced to deal with this, but I knew that flushing was not an option. No toilet in the world could handle that unholy mess. Flushing would only lead to a floor flooded with filth.

As I left, I glanced into the next-door stall. Nothing remained in the bowl. Had he flushed his phone, or had he plucked it out and left the bathroom with nasty unwashed hands? The world will never know.

I exited the bathroom, momentarily proud and Shameless, looking around for a face glaring at me. But I saw no one. I suspect that somehow my supernatural elimination has managed to transfer my Shamefulness to my anonymous poop-mate. I think it'll be a long time before he can bring himself to poop in public -- and I doubt he'll ever again answer his cell phone in the loo. And this, my friends, is why you should never talk on your phone in the bathroom.

Monday, September 5, 2011

So…… Late again.

Guess I’m not going to win this year. How ever shall I live?

Twas playing games again. One of these days I shall grow up.

Nah…. lol

So mom called today and said she was going to come on tuesday and maybe just stay one night, or till friday. Yeah. Great. Kathy is a little put out because I have 5 days off in a row and we had planned to just spend it alone, and no family coming over here all the time, like it has been for the past few weeks. Ah well.

We also found out my mother’s plans for the winter. They be coming home which means we have to find someplace to be. Not that my mother would mind us being here, but because we need a place of our own. That is our own place. Not that I think family won’t still come around, because they will, but this way we can at least get rid of our storage locker.

I just don’t  know what type of place we’ll have. Rent is insane, not only for price but for availability. With a dog? Yeah, cut our chances even further. We’ll do it, but its going to be hard.

Saturday, September 3, 2011

Oh yeah… Almost forgot today’s post


So we done yet or is it going on for another month? Cause I’ll tell ya honest if it is I think I’ll just shoot myself. lol

I slept most of today, woke up around noon and was supposed to go get my hair cut, but nah. In a little too much pain. Five hours later I took a 3 hour nap, and I’m about ready to go for another now too. And this is only day one of my 5 day weekend. I think by the end of it I’ll be all slept out.

I get the mag “This Old House’ and every time it comes I turn to the back page where they have a section called ‘Save this old house’. Almost every house I have wanted. One of my dreams is to take an old house and renovate it. Doing some of the work myself and letting plumbers and electricians do their magic. A dream home to redo would be this one on Charlton Island. I would love to restore that to its old style charm, yet have the amenities of a modern culture. Of course this is pipe dreams since I am severely lacking in funds to do something like that, but its still a nice dream. I like to view available houses from time to time, some of them are free here and here.

Friday, September 2, 2011

Cyclists. Grrrr!

I get that cyclists want to be able to ride their bikes in peace, I get that they want equal access on the road, I get that it really is a healthier way for people to get around and more people should ride their bikes to work, etc…

However, what I don’t get is that if they want to have equal access to the road why they continually ignore the rules of the road (ie laws). Time and again they just breeze through stop signs, red lights, ride into the oncoming traffic lanes to pass stopped cars, etc.

Recently Wpg Police started ticketing cyclists for riding bikes on the sidewalk which had cyclists all up in arms. They complain about always being attacked for riding and they have no safe place to ride (sidewalk or road). However cyclists have injured people on sidewalks because they are just riding like idiots and then get angry that people get upset about it.

And yes, I get it that some cyclists make it bad for everyone and that there are many who say ‘I don’t do it, don’t punish me’, except that on a daily basis I see cyclists either riding on sidewalks or violating road laws. Far too many for it to be ‘only a few’. The police should go on a ticket spree and ticket every cyclist riding on sidewalks or blowing past stop signs or red lights.

However I do agree with cyclists that there should be bike paths, and there is an easy way to do it too. Every time there is a repair to the main roads they widen it by 36”. Take it from the sidewalks which are a good 10’-12’ anyway. In a few years there will be safe lanes for cyclists to ride without endangering pedestrians and without pissing off motorists. Just make sure they still follow the rules of the road and not break em any chance its convenient.


Thursday, September 1, 2011

Pain sucks.

Stayed home from work today cause the back is just killing me. I have to go in tomorrow though, no matter what, so its not going to be fun.

The good thing is I have 5 days off in a row after tomorrow, so that will be good. Enough time to get back on track. Hopefully.