Q: What kind of poo do foxy mamas make?
A: Foxy brown.
- Michelle (aka Foxy Grandma)
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Thursday, October 28, 2010
Thursday, August 19, 2010
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
Hershey Kiss
The caboose of a somewhat loose log-omotive held onto my bum a little longer than the main turd. It finally fell and hit the sort of level part of the toilet bowl, standing and pointing upwards, looking very much like a Hershey Kiss. Its peak poked above the surface of the water, and I braced myself for the horrid stench that was sure to follow, as unsubmerged fecal matter with sludgy consistency is really bad nasal news 97% of the time. But luckily, today the poo was merciful.
Sunday, December 27, 2009
Splash from the Past
This entry does not document a recent poo, but revisits a poo from approximately 1.5 to 2 years ago:
The worst poo splash I have ever had was, I believe, after a night of heavy drinking. The actual ejection of the poo was not violent, but it came out with such speed and force that the resultant toilet bowl splash actually displaced a small volume of liquid - unfortunately a mixture of water, urine, and feces - out of the toilet bowl, high enough and with a parabolic trajectory such that the liquid landed on the floor beside the toilet.
It was not a horrible mess by any measure, but I was impressed that the liquid was able to gain enough altitude to escape the bowl. To date, I have not been able to reproduce such a poo splash.
Friday, December 4, 2009
Mayday! Mayday! Mayday!
My name is Steven but I would like you to call me Jamal. This is my first entry in this wonderful blog portraying one of life's greatest forms of relief.
Here is some background information. I have a controlled diet 5-6 days a week because I am sort of a health nut. The latter fact means I have two shits at the same times every single day. Any sort of disruption to my eating habits causes my toilet times to go out of sync. I also usually eat the same sort of thing for each of my 6 daily meals so my time from entering the washroom and exiting ranges from 60s - 120s, depending on the tightness of the pants I'm wearing that day and whether I have to change the toilet paper roll because the asshole before me neglected to.
Sometimes I like to be spontaneous and not wait for my cheat day to eat something I end up regretting. Today it was a cheeseburger. It wasn't more than 10 minutes after the consumption of this hell sandwich that my digestive system detected what I just ate and said: "Homeboy, you did not just have a greasy ass burger on a m'fucking weekday." I don't like to be bossed around, especially by something I own, so I told my stomach to stop crying like a bitch. It was then my small and big intestines declared war on my rectum and I spent the next 45 minutes reenacting the firebombing of Dresden in WWII on the toilet seat. I had to jump into the shower directly after because the rapid firing of liquid waste and mini poo drops caused major splash on my ass cheeks that could not be cleaned solely with toilet paper.
Here is some background information. I have a controlled diet 5-6 days a week because I am sort of a health nut. The latter fact means I have two shits at the same times every single day. Any sort of disruption to my eating habits causes my toilet times to go out of sync. I also usually eat the same sort of thing for each of my 6 daily meals so my time from entering the washroom and exiting ranges from 60s - 120s, depending on the tightness of the pants I'm wearing that day and whether I have to change the toilet paper roll because the asshole before me neglected to.
Sometimes I like to be spontaneous and not wait for my cheat day to eat something I end up regretting. Today it was a cheeseburger. It wasn't more than 10 minutes after the consumption of this hell sandwich that my digestive system detected what I just ate and said: "Homeboy, you did not just have a greasy ass burger on a m'fucking weekday." I don't like to be bossed around, especially by something I own, so I told my stomach to stop crying like a bitch. It was then my small and big intestines declared war on my rectum and I spent the next 45 minutes reenacting the firebombing of Dresden in WWII on the toilet seat. I had to jump into the shower directly after because the rapid firing of liquid waste and mini poo drops caused major splash on my ass cheeks that could not be cleaned solely with toilet paper.
Friday, November 27, 2009
Auditory Laxative
I can't tell you how thrilled I am to be contributing. To this blog's venerable founder, thank you for inspiring numerous people like myself to bravely approach, examine and discuss our poo.
Tonight, I was watching this Liam Kyle Sullivan video where a couple is seeing a sex therapist, and it was sort of funny, but then, towards the end, the couple starts listening to a CD of erotic stories read by a voice with a terrible Asian accent. I started laughing really hard. So hard that I was literally on the floor, holding my stomach, and trying to catch my breath. And I definitely almost crapped my pants.
It would have been really bad if I had, because I'm wearing boxers. You see, briefs have a sort of tightness, like a poor man's diaper, so a small amount of loose stool would hopefully have been safely housed within them. Boxers, however, just kind of hang, with no tightness; loose stool would not have been confined to my underpants, and would have instead quite possibly gotten my pants shitty all the way down the leg.
Fortunately, I did not crap my pants, and neither of these things happened. The last time I crapped my pants was probably when I was eight or nine, and I was playing Bingo with my sister Alison in the basement. She started calling out the numbers in, again, an Asian accent (something about racism targeting Asians really seems to tickle my funny bone, to poo-ejecting extremes), which caused me to laugh so hard that a little poo nugget escaped my bum, and tumbled down my pantleg and out onto the floor before I was able to race up the stairs to the toilet.
Come to think of it, I was wearing briefs. Oh shit. This completely negates my Poor Man's Diaper theory.
The aforementioned video is below. The part that made me almost poop myself begins at about 6:40.
Tonight, I was watching this Liam Kyle Sullivan video where a couple is seeing a sex therapist, and it was sort of funny, but then, towards the end, the couple starts listening to a CD of erotic stories read by a voice with a terrible Asian accent. I started laughing really hard. So hard that I was literally on the floor, holding my stomach, and trying to catch my breath. And I definitely almost crapped my pants.
It would have been really bad if I had, because I'm wearing boxers. You see, briefs have a sort of tightness, like a poor man's diaper, so a small amount of loose stool would hopefully have been safely housed within them. Boxers, however, just kind of hang, with no tightness; loose stool would not have been confined to my underpants, and would have instead quite possibly gotten my pants shitty all the way down the leg.
Fortunately, I did not crap my pants, and neither of these things happened. The last time I crapped my pants was probably when I was eight or nine, and I was playing Bingo with my sister Alison in the basement. She started calling out the numbers in, again, an Asian accent (something about racism targeting Asians really seems to tickle my funny bone, to poo-ejecting extremes), which caused me to laugh so hard that a little poo nugget escaped my bum, and tumbled down my pantleg and out onto the floor before I was able to race up the stairs to the toilet.
Come to think of it, I was wearing briefs. Oh shit. This completely negates my Poor Man's Diaper theory.
The aforementioned video is below. The part that made me almost poop myself begins at about 6:40.
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