Home bowl syndrome

If I'm at someone's house, especially if it's an old house, if I gotta go I usually ask "Does your toilet function properly or are there any special flushing instructions I need to know about?" just because I'd hate to make a massive deposit then someone say "Don't use that bathroom!"

 

Went to all-you-can-eat ribs night at a local barbecue joint once. I think the sauce was made of a mixture of vinegar, coconut milk, liquid Ex-Lax and a blend of 23 other herbs, spices and laxatives. I was out on the town about an hour later (driving around, not doing anything yet) and felt the troops move. It was like the Germans invading France.
I actually went to the office, late on a Saturday night, because I knew I'd be plunging my home toilet if I went there.
Turned out to be a smart move. Even with the mega-flush jet model in the office bathroom I needed a halftime break, of sorts, to finish the job. I think I left the office 10 pounds lighter than I went in.

 

I've told the story here before, but hell, I'm prouder of it than anything I've ever done. Prom weekend back home, a friend of mine hosted a huge booze-free (yeah we were dorks) bash at his parents' house. His Dad is running the BBQ all day. Burgers, hot dogs, steaks, pork chops--everything you could possibly want and more. I wash it all down with chocolate cakes and ice cream and all the soda I could drink.

In between eating binges we played basketball and swam. And at some point, all the eating and all the running around caught up to me. In a hurry. My stomach was screaming. I raced into the bathroom on the kitchen level and my bowels exploded with great rage and furious anger. Relief was immediate, and odious. I walked out of there and my friend's Dad says "Jesus, Beej, what the hell died in there?"

I would have been embarrassed except a.) we were three weeks away from graduating and b.) it was an impressive feat. A year later I saw him at a local ballgame I was covering and he was still marveling at the stink I left behind.

 

Two things I always check when evaluating a place to move - the shower pressure and the shitter. You don't want a crapper where you have to twist to get the toilet paper or flush.

 

What the fucking fuck? You relieve yourself of your clothing as well? What purpose does this serve? I'm horrified and fascinated. I can't believe this thread exists.

 

I don't always think ahead on matters like this, but I'm kinda proud of the one time recently when I did.

Wife and I went to Jazzfest back in May, and just before we walked out the door, I grabbed a travel pack of moist towelettes to carry with us. I figured (correctly) that after consuming a bowl or two of gumbo or red beans and rice, my sometimes fragile stomach would rebel. And we've heard enough horror stories of Port-a-johns at festival events, and in this case they're very true.

Sure enough, when that moment of NOW came around, I had something that I could clean the seat with and wipe my ass without having to depend on the dubious paper that was more or less available. Satisfaction guaranteed.

 

this thread is bizarre to me. i can't relate at all. i just need a door to the stall and enough toilet paper and i'm all good. i love shitting at work. it's the great equalizer, with the interns and the managing partner and everyone in between making whatever noises they have to.

the only problem i've ever really had is in new construction houses where the shitter is just off the kitchen. haven't been in a house like that in years but it feels like before i was married i was in a lot of such houses on dates and whatnot and that's just wrong.

 

My 12-year-old son, who we adopted from Russia, can poop anywhere.

Apparently, they had to poop on a schedule in the orphanage, so once he moved here, he went everywhere. Walmart, Kmart, McDonald's, gas stations it is all fair game.

I was with him in the bathroom of a Big Lots shortly after he moved here. There was one seat and no stall, so I watched as he counted out five squares then wiped. I guess there was still rationing in the former Soviet Union.

 

Me and a buddy were driving through BFE Oklahoma, somewhere north of Stillwater. We had eaten Eskimo Joe's for lunch that day, and sure enough, an hour or so later we were in dire need of a restroom. Luckily, some small, dusty hamlet was around the next bend, so we pulled over at a gas station time forgot.

I was driving, so I got to go first, ran in and unleashed a monster shit. Cleaned up, stood up, turned to flush and ... nothing. It doesn't work. I start laughing hysterically and stumble out of the bathroom. My friend is all "What the hell?", and I just say, "Ya gotta go, man." There really were no other options.

Then, a few minutes later he comes out, laughing hysterically.

Then another guy walked in the shop and headed for the restroom. We got the hell out of there as fast as we could.
_________

Generally, I can shit anywhere. Home, road. Work. We have a small one-toilet "visitors" bathroom at work that's about 10 feet from my desk, much more convenient and private than a four-banger at the other end of the building. I don't think I'm supposed to use it, but I do love to settle in for some nice iPod Touch game time (... that sounds disgusting. ew.) once a day.

 

I always seem to note on threads like this about the time I went into work at USAT on a Saturday and somone had dropped a deuce ON THE FLOOR in the newsroom men's room. That was ... stunning to encounter, I'll tell you.

 

Freudian slip?