Jeff has done it again. He is the greatest writer ever. Oh wait, that's me.

The same thing happened to him? Wow. Incredible

don't flatter yourself. My dad told me that same story about boy scout camp.

Wait a mintue. Are you invalidating my story? Hmmmm.

being in the timber industry...the sheer title alone got my interest. What a friggin log it must have been! And a skid mark all the way down your pants? Tell me you were wearing light khakis? SWEEEEEEEEEET!

it looks like it was 2 feet long the way you described it.

great story!

do you have a strange obsession with poop?

If you mean me helen than yes i do have an obsession with poop. But I wouldn't call it wierd. Everyone else on this site has that same obsession. Probably even you.

PS. Amanda, plz don't say that Jeff was making up a story or lying or whutever. He is the coolest!!:)

Cold sweats, tension, bizarre outbursts all pointed to one thing -- I had to crap or die here in these woods.- Hilarious! Bravo, Jeff!

men will willingly discuss wanking, but never mention teir skidmarks. ( we all get em girls.. u ge t snail trails)

Only if your boyfriend takes you for a drag.

In church camps I went to as a child, there were always some organised toilet facilities, albeit very primitive. There was a latrine tent (usually abbreviated to 'the lats') This tent consisted of hessian supported by 4 poles (not the sort from Poland). Inside was a funnel inserted into a long tube going into the ground, where we stood to do our number 1's. For our Number 2's, there was another partition inside. One of the first things at camp was for us to dig out the grass from the field, put it safely away some distance, and then dig out the soil quite deeply and heap it on one side. Then the old toilet seat with 4 legs on would be placed inside the trench - this having to be done skilfully, was done by the scoutmasters. There was an old cocoa tin at the side with a toilet roll in it. There was a trowel to cover up what we had done, including the toilet paper. After a few days, when the level of the soil underneath the seat got higher, the contraption would be moved to another part of the trench. When we had finished the camp, the clods of grass were put back into position. I think it was quite hygienic and environmentally friendly (probably more ecologically friendly than chemical toilets, on which I have sat a number of times).

At the Quaker camp Jeff describes, obviously there were not even primitive facilities.

At those church camps, we wore shorts. Since my teenage stage, I have never worn shorts much. In the outdoor situation, I suppose shorts are easier for Number 2's, but I am never wearing them, not wishing to get sunburnt. Another problem is that my bottom and my penis are not always willing to wait for each other, and I have to be careful not to wet my trousers.

Then there are 3 ways:

(a) Finding a low down horizontal branch of a tree which is strong enough for me to sit on.

(b) Finding a log (the other kind) on the ground to hang my but over.

(c) Finding somewhere to squat. (Those who have experience of squat-me-down toilets are at an advantage). There there is a big risk of weeing on your shoes, or, worse, your trousers.)

One problem may be because of the male mindset in western societies. Most people in North West Europe, Britain and North America, probably for most of the last hundred years, have had toilets to SIT ON. We were taught to sit with our trousers and underpants ROUND OUR ANKLES, not half way down our legs.

I think most guys sit that way in adult life. (It would make an interesting survey!)

When squatting, I only pull my trousers down to my knees and push my penis out in front so that it can do what it wants to do without wetting my trousers.

I always endeavour to cover up what I have emitted.

Jeff, I am surprised there was no toilet paper. Was no advice given about wiping with leaves?

Some guys claim that they 'can't do it' when they squat. I gave a lift once to a hitch-hiking guy who had been in the French foreign legion, where they had to use squatting toilets (the sitting type being just for officers). He said that the 2 things he had looked forward to when coming home was drinking an English cup of tea and sitting on an English toilet. He said he had to take his trousers off in the squat toilets. The trouble is, that often means you have to take your shoes off first. When you are in open country, it isn't advisable to remove your shoes because of what nasty creatures may be crawling about. (There's also an argument for insect repellant to stop awkward bites.

Jeff, you are missed here on Poop Report. Your writing was supreme.

Wow! I was lucky that my summer camp had flush toilets. But I did have my share of squatting elsewhere. The worst problem I encountered on my wilderness treks was crapping too close to camp. A couple of times I accidentally dug up someone elses log stash.

this story has to be one of the all time greatest use of words,descriptions,and mental pics . words do not describe the shear comical value of this.could anyone tell me why jeff is no longer here?

We did something similar to this when I was entering junior high school. What I found interesting were the two story outhouses. Now I shit you not (pun intended) there were two story outhouses. I am still not sure how the person using the bottom house did not get back splash but it was apparently possible to pinch a loaf in the bottom while someone was using the top. The bowls were staggered the bottom one was forward and the top one behind. We didn't have to use shovels, but there wasn't a snowball's chance in hell that I was going to use the bottom stall.

When my older sister was in Girl Scouts, my dad would help gig a pit latrine for their Day Camp using a fence post digger. It's two long-handled (4') shovels hinged just above the blades.
The seat was a standard toilet seat mounted on the end of a cut-off 55 gallon drum (about 2'6" high). And then a tent would be set up over this for privacy.
Every evening, the cleaning detail would check the size of the paper roll and pour a deodorizer down the hole on top of ... whatever.
When the camp was finished, they would take down the tent, fill in the top of the hole and replace the sod which they had stacked in the back corner of the tent.
Simple, Yes. Elegant, No. Servicable, Very!

How do I know this? I was his measuring stick for 2 years. They would lower me into the hole by my wrists. If I couldn't reach the grass, it was deep enough.
The next year, they brought in porta-janes.

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You have the right to remain Silent but Deadly....