Today I was sitting in my living room dressed in my boxers, why wear out your clothes when you are inside, when the urge to go to the bathroom struck. I accomplished the deed and on my way back to my computer it happened. My butthole fell out. I would never have known if it hadn't been for my cats, they though I was dragging a piece of twine for their enjoyment and were engaging in a playful attack. I hope my butthole is not in such tatters that it can't be reattached.
I had a Zip-lock bag in the fridge that contained some leftover sausage links in brown gravy that I was going to have for my breakfast. It is now in my kitchen trash can.
This song had a very brief reign on the country charts years ago, it describes with accuracy what happens when I drop my load;
Dead Skunk in the Middle of the Road
Artist: Loudon Wainwright
Crossin' the highway late last night
He shoulda looked left and he shoulda looked right
He didn't see the station wagon car
The skunk got squashed and there you are!
You got yer
Dead skunk in the middle of the road
Dead skunk in the middle of the road
You got yer dead skunk in the middle of the road
Stinkin' to high Heaven!
Take a whiff on me, that ain't no rose!
Roll up yer window and hold yer nose
You don't have to look and you don't have to see
'Cause you can feel it in your olfactory
You got yer
Dead skunk in the middle of the road
Dead skunk in the middle of the road
You got yer dead skunk in the middle of the road
Stinkin' to high Heaven!
Yeah you got yer dead cat and you got yer dead dog
On a moonlight night you got yer dead toad frog
Got yer dead rabbit and yer dead raccoon
The blood and the guts they're gonna make you swoon!
You got yer
Dead skunk in the middle of the road
Dead skunk in the middle of the road
You got yer dead skunk in the middle of the road
Stinkin' to high Heaven!
C'mon stink!
You got it!
It's dead, it's in the middle
Dead skunk in the middle!
Dead skunk in the middle of the road
Stinkin' to high heaven!
All over the road, technicolor man!
Oh, you got pollution
It's dead, it's in the middle
And it's stinkin' to high, high Heaven
To the AC I made fun of (?) on 6.10.2009, If you Google poopreport.com this is what you get,
"The Intellectual Appreciation of Poop Humor | PoopReport.com"
If you can afford to smoke and drink I think you could afford to see a doctor if you really wanted to. In the state of Tennessee you can see most specialists for a fee of about $100, just forgo a few packs of cigarettes and bottles of booze and "voila" your trip to the doctor will be paid for. I feel confident you have spent more than $100 on your vices in the last two years.
While stationed in Japan with the military I studied the ancient martial art known as "Dung Foo". My instructor was a 5th degree black log by the name of Wan Hung Low. Sensei Low taught me the technique of setting my O-ring to different sizes mid poo thus changing the diameter of different portions of the same poo.
I never have splash back because I start with a small diameter turd and gradually increase the girth until reaching mid-turd at which time I start tapering down so the completed turd glides effortlessly into the bowl. They very closely resemble the wing tanks on an F-89 Scorpion.
Sometime the non-cloggers can be equally entertaining. When I lived in an old country house with a septic tank years ago, the tank was almost full and the flush had no power at all. It was a bitter cold winter and nothing could be done about it. A little piece of floating shit (about like a ping pong ball) bobbed merrily in the commode for over a week. No one ever said anything about it for fear they would get the task of removing it.
Oh my God PD you need an immediate anecdote so her goes; when I was just a small lad I had a dog named Brownie.......oh.......wait a minute..I think what you really need is an antidote, haha...my mistake. Can I have all your leftover gin?
Willow's Dad.........My mother's rule of thumb, which worked well, was that if the child is crying and screaming bloody murder, the child is probably not badly injured. The ones that just lie there bleeding silently are the ones you should worry about.
Bran Lover.....If you are totally asleep you will miss the adventure of a lifetime. Think of the movie "The Incredible Voyage", and cross it with a canoe trip up a dank, but colorful cavern. Your heart will be in your mouth as you help the doctor look for stalactites and stalagmites, "over there doc., better snip that rascal off for a closer look."
The post procedural farts you will be able to produce will add to your overall joy. I could have stuffed a golf ball up my ass and blown it into orbit.
T-box.....You are indeed a well traveled and talented fellow. I love the haiku form so much that I have even taught it to my cat.
Here is his latest poetic attempt:
You moved it again!
I can't find the litter box.
I'll shit in the sink! _______ Eat chilies and feel the burn!!
PD....You are a brave man who reacted admirably under pressure.
Mark E....I am an old man but I can guarantee you that if you ever put dog shit on my doorknob I will track you down and give you a Dirty Sanchez with my soiled fingers.
Twelve or fifteen years ago I was working for a grocer in a small town near Nashville. He thought I would make an ideal Santa
thanks to the fact that I have a white beard, twinkling blue eyes, and am a bit on the corpulent side.
Originally I was going to be Santa in the store only, but my boss graciously offered my services to the local Chamber of Commerce. Now I was to ride in the Christmas parade and be Santa to the whole town. I donned the rented Santa suit, which was obviously designed strictly for indoor wear, and climbed into the back of a pickup and was off on my journey down Main Street.
The temperature was below freezing so it was only a short time until my teeth were chattering and there was really no enthusiasm left in my Ho-Ho-Ho. I would have succumbed to terminal frostbite if I had not been able to surreptitiously take an occasional swig of scotch than had thoughtfully been given me.
Finally the ordeal of the parade was over. I was happy to be back in the warmth of the store, that is I was happy until I saw the line of munchkins and ragamuffins hopping up and down wildly in anticipation of sitting in Santa's lap.
One father approached me with a request that I be severe with his son who, according to Dad, was an ungrateful whelp and deserved no goodies for Christmas. I told him I didn't take parental requests and tried to treat all kids the same. What should I have said to the son? "OK you
little bastard, how would you like Santa to come down your chimney and beat the fucking shit out of you?"
I sat in my chair for several hours with a steady stream of children, who had just pissed their pants, climbing on and off my lap. One lad had the audacity to take a dump while he was on my lap. I could tell by his face that he was shitting and shortly afterwards the smell reached my nostrils. After assuring him of all the gifts that he would find on Christmas morning I tossed him back to my elf.
Most of the kids were fascinated with my beard which was obviously the real thing. They felt compelled to stroke it with their little booger incrusted fingers which were, in most cases, sticky with some kind of Christmas confection. All in all, it was not one of my better days.
Just roll me outside and cleanse me with a garden hose.
Preferably with water that is not to cold. For amusement you can play the hose on my balls and bounce them off my ass.
I think your butthole would actually get larger as you age. I have read that in your lifetime your digestive system may process as much as fifty tons of food. I do not know how much of that ultimately becomes shit but I am of the opinion that the amount is considerable.
If you saved all of the BMs excreted during your allotted four score and ten years and assembled them into one mass you would have a turd of monumental proportion, you would probably also have a stench of monumental proportion. You would also probably live alone having been deserted years ago by loved ones leaving in disgust because of your collection. Try saving stamps or something in you next reincarnation...I'm derailing myself here so I will get back to the subject.
The huge mass of turdic material did not leave your body all at once......thank God, but it's sheer volume would lead one to believe that there is a distinct possibility that over the years, such a volume would, or at least could, cause significant stretchage.
As I have aged I have noticed that my farts no longer have the clarion sound of a trumpet blasting out a high C. Alas, they now sound like the rumblings of a tuba as my flabby butt lips flutter in the breeze. I think my asshole is irreversibly stretched.
I am of the opinion that tossing a piece of green ham to a dog is not much of a test of the ham's edibility. Years ago, when I lived in rural Tennessee, we had a dog that liked to drag home tidbits he picked up as he journeyed about in search of adventure.
On one of his trips he came across the decomposing skull of a groundhog which even the local vultures were avoiding. The bone was a pale shade of green and the odor emanating from this cranial tidbit could be detected at a distance of at least
50 yards upwind. The dog, whose name was Bertram Redneck, lay with this festering trophy between his paws and licked it for hours while wagging his tail to show his almost orgasmic pleasure.
Bertram was a face-licking dog. My family got some very good aerobic exercise
for the next several days as we ran wildly to and fro that we might avoid Bertram's defiled tongue. Oh.......the point of all this rambling is that Bertram showed no ill effects from this doggy gastronomic delight. I think his digestive system would have sneered at a mere piece of green ham.
CEP..........My sources, who must remain anonymous, tell me that uncle M is a Navy dentist and has been assigned, for the last several years, to the Naval Air Station in San Diego. Hope this doesn't leave you with a bad taste in your mouth.
Whether the shit is on my buttocks or still in my colon makes no difference to me since I plan on being cremated as soon as I am declared dead.....that way no one will get stuck with an embalming bill, which is ridiculously expensive.
I have stipulated in my will that before cremation I must be declared "extremely dead", A flippant, "looks dead to me", or
a nonchalant, " by God, I believe he's
dead", is just not good enough. I can not stress how lacking those two pronouncements sound to me.
Before cremation I want to be declared,
irrevocably, permanently, terminally dead.
If doubt exists as to the degree of deadness I have undergone, I would appreciate it if my naked corpse be laid out in the hot sun by the side of the interstate. If my already corpulent body increases in size to approximately the size of the Hindenburg that will speak well for the state of my deadness.
If my usually foul aroma becomes such that it elicits comments in passer-bys such as, "Jesus fucking Christ, what's that smell?" I will be dead enough for the cremation oven.
Thanks to superb regularity I do the majority of my pooping at home. I do not mind pooping in public places within reason. I think that shitting on the 50 yard-line during a Titan's game and then taking a penalty flag from a ref to wipe my ass with might be a little uncomfortable.
Dear poopfan/chocolate what's his name, please don't leave us, we enjoy kicking you around. Don't take this all so seriously this is, after all, a poop humor site. If you must go, then pip pip, tallyho, what what and all that other British rot that I so enjoy.
I hope you are from Birmingham, I really enjoy a brummie accent. I myself have an American southern drawl , so...Yal stick around, ya heah!!
Dear poopfan, My fragile ego has been irreparably damaged by being omitted
from the "sux" list. I certainly hope this was an innocent oversight on your part and no real slight was intended.
I think we have successfully traced you to the UK thanks to your "Bugger off" comment. I am not sure about the application of the phrases, fuck off and bugger off. Is there some symbolism in the phrases that goes over my head. As you know already my interpretive skills of the symbolic are extremely lacking.
If you register and post a story I will read it and give it an honest appraisal in my comments.
Thank you so much for your kind comments regarding my submissions to PR,
I assume that when you said I was an average writer at times you meant I was superb the rest of the time.
When you mentioned your "unbiased
opinion" I laughed until I farted. Your opinion is extremely biased in favor of new over old. I apologize for having different tastes in writing styles than you. Oh....by the way...I don't think your spell-check is working properly.
Chocolate's writings remind me somewhat of the later poetry of T. S. Elliot.
I love some of Elliot's earlier works but his later works used so much symbolism that they became unintelligible even to scholars. Have a nice day and don't forget to get that spell-check worked on.
Chocolate, Your story was well written and amusing but I didn't understand it. If you post another I guarantee that I will read it.
TSV..........You have spoiled the remnants of my sex-life with the comment you made above. About all I have left now is memories and a vivid imagination.
I have always been an "assman" and have a great appreciation for a particularly
well turned pair of glutei maximi. In my
geezerhood one of my few joys is going to the mall for "butt viewings".
Perched on a bench with my cap pulled down to hide my darting eyes I furtively
scan the derrieres of all the luscious young women who pass me. Ahhhhh...look at that one......how soothing it would be to run my old arthritic hands over those smooth, perfectly formed globes. Alas,
these musings are now consigned to the archives of my memory and have been replaced by less delightful thoughts.
After having read you post I now wonder; did that pretty ass drop a ten pound log before it came to the mall? Is the paint still peeling off her bathroom walls? Did her canary live through the aroma of her last bowel movement?
I will probably continue with my viewings but they will be less joyful. I am a dirty old man and plan on being one as long as possible, for the next stage in my development will be dead old man. I hope to postpone that as long as possible!
There is wisdom in what Doniker says.
One does not "itch" one's ass, the ass becomes itchy all by itself. The act of making the ass stop itching is called "scratching" the ass.
I try to never place my shit covered fingers anywhere near my nostrils. I would think the only reason this would ever be done would be in case you wanted to give yourself a "dirty Sanchez". I would doubt the intelligence of anyone that would do that to themselves.
My wife and I try to stay healthy so rather than chocolates we stick high fiber fruits and vegetables up each other's poop
chutes when a diversion from the boredom of every day life is felt necessary. The shape of the jalapeno makes it an ideal candidate.
There exists the possibility that what you saw was not a turd but a speckled brown sewer trout. If your commode is a weak flusher the trout is able to swim against the flow with ease. If you see it again make a grab for it. If it squishes in you grasp it was not a trout.......oops.
That magic time of year is here. The time when serious poopers forget their petty differences and focus on the all important issue. Who can force the emergence of the remnants of several days of nutrition to extrude from their nether regions in one long chunk?
Who can push out that crème de crème
of turds? I may have some useful information for all you who would accomplish this feat.
Years ago I was diagnosed with a probable peptic ulcer as a reason for pain in my abdomen. As it turned out, rather than an ulcer I was suffering from chronic appendicitis which was finally diagnosed when it became acute. While being treated for the nonexistent ulcer I was forced to
subsist on an entirely unsatisfactory diet
of bland foods and drink bottles and bottles of amphojel.
Amphojel is nothing but aluminum hydroxide. Aluminum is a metal. I am neither a chemist nor a physician but what I think this substance does, is turn what you eat into metal. There is no runny shit when you consume amphojel, rather than a turd you must excrete an ingot. An ingot so hard that it rips flesh when it comes out.
An ingot which, rather than being smooth,
has little metal shards sticking out it's sides. An ingot that makes it feel like you are shitting shrapnel.
I was in the service at this time of my life. I remember well sitting in the door- less stall, splintering the wood on both sides of the partition with my fingernails as I gave birth to a small metal turd wider than it was long. Toilet paper was of no concern at all, just a cotton ball to daub the blood off the tattered remnants of my asshole was sufficient..
Back to the stoolstice.....only you who are really serious should follow this advice. Take a lot of amphojel starting about 4 or 5 days prior to your stoolstice attempt. Take it for at least 2 full days. This will effectively plug your colon with a circular chunk of shit about the size of a softball and as hard as a piece of metal. You may then eat normally up to the evening meal of the last day before your attempt. For this meal eat all the fiber you can handle so that you might have the power to blast out the anal plug followed by an award winning length of poop the next day.
Stoolstice morning if you have any percodans, percosets, morphine, Demerol, opium, or any other legal or illegal painkillers, take them. Blowing the plug will be a painful experience but the length of the turd will hopefully bring you enough pride to compensate for you pain. My hat is off to any who attempt this rigorous regime. May the glory of your stoolstice turd make the tears running abundantly from your eyes worthwhile.
Old Martin, the pompous old ass,
had an eye that was made out of glass.
It got lodged in his gut,
then blown forth from his butt,
by a timely expulsion of gas.
A crusty old veteran of Seoul,
had a fake eye lodged in his hole.
It could have been worse,
he exclaimed to his nurse,
it could have been stuck in my pole!
In the stall with no door? Try on the pot with no stall for a truly shameless, or shameful, experience.
All us guys who served in the military back in olden days had to contend with the row of thrones so close together your legs touched a buddy on both sides. I tried shitting at two or three in the morning but alas, half the guys in the barracks had the same idea. You get used to it after a few days of acute constipation.
Even worse, the chemical toilet crap with audience. I was flying cross country in a
C-130 Hercules back in the 1960s. There were only about 20 of us "space available" passengers sitting in jump seats along the sides of the plane facing the center. There was a stand up urinal immediately behind the cockpit but the only crapper was a chemical toilet that sat back on the tail ramp. It was about the size of a small kitchen trash can. One of the guys had to go, poor bastard. He was rather large and it looked like the toilet was going to go up his ass (or his ass was going to swallow the toilet). We tried not to look but the spectacle was hard to avoid.
Graffiti is as old as mankinds ability to express his/herself in writing. I can only imagine what emotions some of this ancient shithouse writing must have expressed.
Perhaps:
Pharoh sucks ass.
For a good time visit Cleopatra at the temple.
Cicero eats shit.
Socrates eats hemlock.
Diogenes is a square.
Goliath is a wuss.
Then there was the middle ages:
Forsooth varlet,
Little John waitest for thee at Notingham.
I think the unbleached coffee filters I have been using lately are actually recycled toilet paper.
That would account for the taste of my morning java lately.
Today I was sitting in my living room dressed in my boxers, why wear out your clothes when you are inside, when the urge to go to the bathroom struck. I accomplished the deed and on my way back to my computer it happened. My butthole fell out. I would never have known if it hadn't been for my cats, they though I was dragging a piece of twine for their enjoyment and were engaging in a playful attack. I hope my butthole is not in such tatters that it can't be reattached.
_______
Eat chilies and feel the burn!!