Home bowl syndrome

I just hate it when you encounter a case of the "top shelf"

 

This thread refuses to be flushed.

 

And for that we thank you.

 

I don't care where I am. If I have to go, I have to go. Also, I'm not ashamed. It's not like I'm the first person in the history of this planet to take a shit. So, I have a little fun with it. If my body is producing a bit of noise to go along with the plopping sound, and if I know other people are in the restroom using other stalls or the urinal, I make sure to laugh or make comments out loud.

I got the idea a few years ago while listening to another guy do the same. I heard an ungodly sound followed by the exclamation of "Oh, holy ghost!"

I like messing with people.

 

But is it a floater or a klingon?

 

And if it does, would it leave streaks?

 

It's a nugget.

 

Might as well dredge up this thread, which has some solid laughs in it.

HBS is still in full effect for me - to my great sorrow, as I was on vacation last week.

 

Thanks for bringing this up again.

I had a lengthy stay at a pretty decent hotel ruined by the crappy small toilet in the bathroom. You spend millions on renovations but leave the same old round assgrabbers? Not good.

 

The wife wanted to see a concert at a fancy resort in Utah, near where the winter Olympics were held.

Near the venue was a fancy resort hotel. I noticed a few Lamborghinis and decided we should check the place out. My default mode is to wander around until somebody throws me out.

We go inside this joint and realized it's just a small building on the inside. I wasn't really paying attention to the outside. Turns out there are two box things that take you up the side of the mountain, somehow by roller coaster tracks? That's what it looked like to me.

We get to the top and realize the actual hotel is in this building at the top. Lots of rooms with balconys, giant pool, bar and restaurant (menu had food I couldn't afford), and a lot of people who clearly did not dress like us.

I had noticed portable shitters at the outdoor concert venue, so I decided it was good a time as any to shit in luxury.

I found the men's room, and it was huge. Each shitter was its own little room with a large, wooden door. Nice TP. Comfortable seat. A few had those second toilet things that spray water. I wasn't entirely sure how to use it. By the sink were paper towels thick enough to be cloth. Marble or granite or something expensive for the counter tops.

It was the nicest place I've ever emptied my bowels.

I can go anywhere relatively clean. But there's no place like home.

 

Child's play, BG. It's easy to make your own noise.

I once was on a canoe trip and felt the forces of diarrhea coming on. Barely made it to the dock and the park restroom. Was making like Niagara Falls when a couple guys came in and said, "Oh my God!" to the sound and smell.

They left laughing. I was just so glad not to have filled the canoe, I didn't care.

 

I'm so happy to see this thread come back. One of my favorites from when I first got started here.

My wife does not nor will she ever understand my HBS. She calls it "the most self destructive habit." So whenever the spirit moves me, there is a lot of groaning and pleading to just use a public toilet followed by my apologizing and racing back home anyway.

So a few months back, we went out to breakfast with my family one town up from mine and the coffee really got my bowels going. We had planned to do a couple of errands after breakfast, but I had to go yesterday. I tried to mitigate the situation by driving over to my dad's place (which was much closer than my house) to unload. He wasn't home, but I still have a key and would just pop in and lay waste to the baño and leave. To my dismay (and my wife's utter consternation) my dad's realtor was over working on something to get his house ready to sell. I felt way too awkward to go through with the bombing of Dresden with her in the house, so I started to head home. My wife the whole trip is pleading for me just to go to the hardware store so she can get the shopping started while I took care of business. I just couldn't do it. I barely made it home and let loose with the most satisfying of poops.

Some time later, when the house was actually up for sale and potential buyers had started to look at the place, I found myself of need of the toilet again. Thankfully, no one was around, so I did my business and left. The whole time I was left thinking if a home buyer came in after I had left what they might have said and if I would have gotten a call from my dad asking if I knew why he was being asked to have the plumbing checked for leaks. Thankfully, despite my final decimation of my old commode, the house sold within a week of being on the market. Didn't know then that would be my last dump in that house, but I'm happy I got a quality one in as a finale.