MAIN SECTIONS
MAIN SECTIONS
Stories About Poop Intellectual Crap Consumer Reports Fun with Feces Poop at the Office Techniques Travel Logs The Captain's Log Academic Poop Home  
RESOURCES The PoopReport Gift Pack Poop Culture: The Book The PoopReport Store The Skatole Shirt PoopReport FAQ Best Of PoopReport Press Room Advertise! PoopReport on Myspace PoopReport on Facebook NEWS AND ADVICE The BM News Wire Ask PoopReport Ask a Poodiatrist Eternal Debates FEATURES Special Reports Movie Poop Archive Toilet Paper Survey Pooetry Comics Poop Contests MOVEMENTS I Poop and I Vote!  Shameless Shitting Poop For Peace The Summer Stoolstice DISCUSSIONS Shit Of My Career Childbirth Poop Book Of The Shameless First Memory of Poop More... REPORT POOP Poop Forums PoopReport Chat Submit 
NavigationPoop Comics Our BuddiesLower left rotating ad most recent poll -- formattedPoop at the Movies |
 Down With LovePosted 08.07.2003 by Sits On Bowl (31)
We had a family vacation in Kentucky at a place called Lake Cumberland. You rent these huge houseboats on which two families can easily stay, with more than ten places to sleep -- ten sloppy, bug-infested, sunburned, baked-bean swilling mammals on one USS Minnow. At least on Gilligan's Island they had an outhouse.
The thing you learn quickly on these boats is that there is ABSOLUTELY NO privacy. There's ONE bathroom with a plywood door. Naturally, my bunk bed was RIGHT ACROSS from the crapper. I'd never heard the term "Shameless" until I came across this site, but I think that house boat helped me understand the concept. Some people (like me) would wait for the best moment to do one's business, like when everyone else was sitting up on the roof of the boat, or on land getting supplies. But NOT Mrs. S-----. I'm laying there on my bunk in the middle of the day and she hits the bathroom. Plop! Plop! She's Shameless. No humming, radio playing. Just loud plop. The other thing you should understand about these houseboats is that back in those days they dumped the crap directly into the lake. Seriously. You pushed a button and a brown Ragu sauce hovered on the surface as if Big Foot had gotten caught up in the propellers of the Titanic. I'm sure they don't let you do that nowadays, but back then they treated the toilet like a garbage disposal in your sink. Down the hatch! The most notable memory of this expedition occurred when yours truly had to do his business. I was about fourteen years old at the time and was just discovering my interest in the opposite sex. I thought I was pretty cool in my bleached blond hair, cutoff jeans, and Dukes of Hazard t-shirt. I must have looked stupider than Justin Timberlake with that mulatto perm and bowling visor. Anyway, this girl named Karly from the next campsite was REALLY cute, and for some reason she apparently thought I was just adorable -- she must have had a low IQ, and is probably living in a van down by the river as we speak. So I finished pooping, and I hit the dung mulch button and came up to hear Karly screaming, "I'm swimming out here!" There's a nasty swell of mutant lava whirlpooling its way toward Karly, and she is swimming away from it as fast as possible. And of course there I am, the obvious culprit, standing there, wishing I hadn't hit the button. There's nothing like a swirling foam shower of alien swill to put the skids on an emerging puppy love. I have trouble flushing the toilet to this day -- I'm afraid that it will cascade out into my lawn and into the pool. -- by Sits On Bowl Post new comment
|
Ad 1
Ad 2
Text Ads
Recent comments
Who's onlineThere are currently 0 users and 207 guests online.
GoDaddyThong ad Highest Users
Browse content by author View some statistics Learn more about userpoints |
