Home bowl syndrome

Funbag? huh? Did I miss something?

And yes, that's the plan when I'm in a public place. But when I'm home? It's complete nudity, baby!

 

Along those lines, am I the only one that hates having to dump right after/during your shower? I absolutely hate leaving the shower, still wet, and having to sit on the bowl. I don't know if it's because I like to be dry when I poop or what but, either way, it is unpleasant.

 

The worst I ever came across was at a school I was covering a basketball game at. The stalls were all brick, but they only rose around a foot higher than the height of the bowl. So you have this line of shitters and everybody can see what you're doing.

It was just absurd. And yes, on that night, I had to use one one of those bowls. At halftime.

FML

 

I can raise you one better...

When I was on a road trip in college covering the women's basketball team as the radio color commentator, I had to rip something fierce once we got to the arena so I bolted to the bathroom.

This arena had stalls like you mentioned, but for some reason, the doors were equally as short and facing the back wall of urinals.

So midway through absolutely destroying this bathroom, the play-by-play guy walked in and had to take a leak, so he took his place and we were basically staring eye-to-eye for a minute.

That was awkward.

 

During my first trip to Afghanistan, years ago, we had what we called the "shitter trailers." The shitter trailer was one of those ideas that are great, but poor execution just ruins the whole thing.

Just try to picture it. The trailer was an average size ... not like a mobile home or pull-behind camper, but like a utility trailer. Maybe 25-feet by 15-feet.

Like any other trailer, you had to use a step to get inside. No problem there.

The problem lies in the construction of the "toilet" inside. To get onto the toilet, you had to step up onto another ledge before you sat on the seat. So, after stepping into the trailer, onto the ledge and sitting down to do your business, your ass was about 50 inches from the ground.

So, when PVT Snuffy slings open the door, he's staring at SGT Snuffy's junk and the business end of a bowel movement. Wham! Right in your face.

No stalls, either. Just a bench with a bunch of holes cut into it. So, when you needed some TP, all you had to do was look over at your buddy and ask for it.

 

In the Army we had stalls, but apparently when you go to Ranger school you go when you can.

We were out at Grafenwöhr spotting artillery rounds, and one of the privates in my unit was all freaked out because a lieutenant (who had graduated from Ranger school) had just waltzed into the latrine and sat right next to him to take a growler.

 

Actually, old houses have old toilets that actually flush worth a damn, not those new ones that flush half a pint and leave a turd or two floating.

 

I have another shitter story. My sister recently added a bathroom to her basement as part of a years-long renovation project. I said to her "Next time I come up there, I'm taking a giant shit and stopping it up." She said bring it on, we've got great plumbing.

A few weeks later, I'm up there when nature starts rumbling. I take my magazine, announce my intentions and disappear downstairs. Great place to take a shit. Nice big bathroom, cozy, quiet, away from everyone. I do my business, flush the toilet and.....I've stopped it up. Didn't even mean to, but, well, we'd had Chinese that night.

I head upstairs, but have little hope of sneaking up the second flight of stairs to the main bathroom and grabbing the plunger without being caught. I have to walk right in front of my sister and her family and I can't see being able to hide the plunger on the way down. But somehow I do, and get downstairs unnoticed.

Of course, my luck runs out when I head upstairs and my sister asks why I was going up and down the stairs. I show her the plunger. My nephew starts roaring with laughter. Good times!

 

I have stories for days...

When I dated my second-to-last girlfriend, I never had the urge to bomb the harbor whenever I was at her place or mine. If nature did call, it was always at a restaurant.

One time we were at a really nice steakhouse with her family and the beef and beer were going in and out at the table. On the drive back to her apartment, I felt my stomach grumbling like it always does following eating a lot of steak. Add beer to the mix and there was bound to be a tsunami of feces at some point in the near future.

When we got back to her apartment, the feeling subsided until we got ready for sleep.

In hindsight, I should have waited until after she brushed her teeth and went to bed, but Mr. Intestine wasn't going to let that happen.

So as she changed for bed, I raced into the bathroom and laid waste to her toilet.

Five minutes later, I emerged from the bathroom with a sheepish grin on my face. She tried to enter the bathroom, but I told her, 'I wouldn't go in there if I were you.'

She looked at me, then at the door and proceeded to walk in. As she crossed the plane of the door frame, her knees buckled. She stumbled backward and slammed the door.

She proceeded to brush her teeth in the kitchen sink and her only words were, 'Well, at least I know you do take shits.'

 

I thought this was appropriate:

Eddie Murphy: [imitating Richard Pryor] You ever get like sometimes ye get on that toilet and ye shit, that water splash up on yo' ass? Don't that make ye mad, right? You know what really make mad is when the shit is halfway out, then go back up in that mothafocka. Why do shit be teasin' yo' ass? Just get the fuck out, right? You know what really make me mad is when yo' ass don' cooperate whicha then clinch up and break the shit in half? You be mad like a motherfucker too coz you gotta whip yo' ass for 5 hours. Use 12 roles o' toilet paper on that mothafocka. You know what really bother me is when you be strainin' for a long time and one lil' pebble shit comes out? Y' want some shit this big right? Stick yo' head up your ass and say: That all the shit I'm gonn' get mothafocka? And it's afterwards right, when you done with shit, you done all the shittin' you gonna do for the whole day and you flush that toilet and one chunk come back... WHAT DOES THAT CHUNK WANT?

 

That's equivalent to Babe Ruth calling his shot. Well done. Back in high school I used to work at a Taco Bell. I got some food after a 10 pm shift, ate it, and then dominated the toiled at home to the point where I called the Taco Bell back and asked the guys to wrap the plunger up for me. They had a lot of fun wrapping it up and passing it through the drive thru window... I had even more fun returning it that evening.

I'm also ashamed to say that I didn't conquer the toilet in my last apartment. I knew I wouldn't when I held back a bomb 30 minutes into a 4 hour drive. I could barely walk by the time I got home. Suffice to say the toilet paused for a brief second before exerting its dominance over me.

 

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