Home bowl syndrome

The most disgusting porto john I ever came across was at a Costa Rica-Jamaica Gold Cup soccer game in Columbus a few years ago. I had a few beers in the lot and headed over to one near a group of tailgating Costa Rica fans. I open the door to find a mountain of shit sticking out of the hole. It was a good 5 or 6 inches over the seat. Then I looked to the left and the entire pisser area was filled with shit. Jesus Christ, it was a shit Holocaust in there. The smell definitely knocked me on my ass, but that visual will be with me forever.

After I closed the door an old Costa Rican fellow looked at me, said something in Spanish and laughed at me. I have no doubt they were at least partly responsible for that mess.

 

It would take me a good year before I would crap with any girlfriend in the same building as me. The woman I'm married to, we had been dating about two months when I awoke from a long, booze-filled night and realized if I wasn't crapping at her apartment, I was going to be crapping in my pants on my ride home.
I looked at her and just said, I hate to do this, but I have no choice.
I figured out where my HBS came from.
Here's 11- or 12-year old Rhody, dropping a deuce on vacation in a beach bathroom - without a lock on it - when suddenly the door swings open. Random stranger realizes someone's in there and slams the door closed, apologizing as he does it. Perhaps that's what freaked me out.
Sadly enough, last year I was in an airport bathroom looking to drain the snake. The urinals were filled so I peaked under and saw no feet on a stall. I opened the door and was horrified when I saw a young boy trying to drop a deuce. I shut the door the instant I saw him and realized, 'Wow, I just ruined any chance that kid has of shitting in public again.'

 

I've been married six years and still prefer not to do my big-boy business with my wife anywhere about. It's become a running joke with us: "You go ahead, I'll join you in a few minutes."

 

Oh, I not only poop while my wife is in the house, I make a point of trying to make the smell lurch out of the bathroom and into the rest of the house.

On more than one occasion, she's walked by the door and yelled that I'm disgusting. It makes me happy.

 

My brother just called, told me a story and said "you can post that on SJ if you want." And I said "oddly enough, there's a thread this would be perfect on."

Apparently, several years back, he and some friends had been out on the town, drinking heavily. Before heading into a gentlemen's establishment, they all spent a few minutes vomiting into the bushes outside. They were politely told they were not welcome in the club, so they hailed a cab and went back to the house of one of the guys.

There were seven of them, including a handful of girls. They all piled into one cab with what my brother termed as "a cool Jamaican cabbie." Well, during the ride, someone in the car unleashed some hellacious gas. To the point where even with all the windows down, it was overpowering. They get to the guy's house, and everyone piles out, and the guy who had been in the front seat (with a girl on his lap) starts hustling into the house.

Suddenly, they hear the cabbie yell out "Oh, mon, your boy done shit himself!" and everyone looks and the guy running up the stairs has a huge stain on his pants. Apparently, he later admitted that while they were all vomiting, he was doing it so forcefully that he crapped his pants.

My brother tonight: "Something I've never asked, and probably don't want to know, is why he was going to go into the strip club afterward. Wouldn't you want to go home and get changed or something before continuing the night?"

So...there you go.

Also, Small Town: I told my brother I was going to send him yours so he could read it for himself, since he knows you.

 

Small Town Guy, I had tears in my eyes from laughter. Awesome.

I guess my most "craptacular" use of a public toilet happened in Paris, France ... where, of course, you're supposed to pay for the privilege. Seriously, some of the portapotties have turnstyle type contraptions in front of them.

Anyway, the wife and I were having a grand time riding the Metro, walking all over that awesome city, and of course, eating a ton of bread products (including copious amounts of Kronenbourg beer). It was only a matter of time before a "W.C." was desperately needed, and I didn't bother to fish around for a couple of francs. Up over the turnstyle I went, into a portapottie literally in the middle of a busy sidewalk in Paris.

The noises that were no doubt audible helped dozens of Frenchies confirm their hatred of Americans!

 

Considering your nude/spread eagle posture on the throne, the wife may not be yelling about the smell

 

Oh, no, it's definitely the smell. It reeks like it's the middle of August in the Nevada desert and a giant zombie war took place in a secluded Walmart with a glass ceiling, no air conditioning and the stench of 3,000 zombie corpses drying out in the hot afternoon sun.

And that's just a regular one. If I have Hot Pockets or something similarly foul, look out.

 

Oh, I got no problem going when the wife's in the house. I mean, right now, in a 900 sq ft condo, there is no buffer zone. It'll be sweet when we move into the new crib this month. Three and a half bathrooms to break in.

Anyway....a buddy of mine from college and about 4 others made the trip to UNC to see the Mason-UNC hoops game a few years ago. We're staying at some fleabag motel, where the beds are like 3 feet from the bathroom. I wake up the next morning, look left and there he is in all his naked glory with the door wide open doing his business. I wish I could unsee that. Then again, he was reading a newspaper, so some good came out of it, I suppose.

 

Now we know where the infamous "Who Pooped the Bed" episode of Always Sunny came from!

http://www.hulu.com/watch/39685/its-always-sunny-in-philadelphia-they-brought-the-poop

 

One of my wife's offices is full of Vietnamese women. One day she comes home from that office and races to the toilet. She's in there about 10 minutes and comes out, sweaty and relieved.

"What the hell was that all about?" I ask.

"Well, I was in the [name redacted for the sake of international relations] office and I've had to use the toilet all day long."

"What, they don't have a bathroom in [nrftsoir] office?"

"Yes. But it's used all day long by the Vietnamese women. And they squat."

"Duh, don't all women squat?"

"Yes. But Vietnamese women climb UP ON THE TOILET, PLACING THEIR FEET ON THE BOWL, AND SQUAT TO DO THEIR BUSINESS!"

 

Time for one more:

I was on the road with Brooks & Dunn and Kix Brooks comes charging out of the public bathroom at O'Hare, laughing his ass off. We ask him what's so funny. He says a guy was in the stall next to him, doing his business, and suddenly the guy says loudly to himself,

"Corn? When did I eat corn?"