Taking a Dump at other peoples houses

[Howedar]

Oh you guys would just love bootcamp.

In the best of circumstances the rows of toilets might have dividers between them so you can see the person next to you. There are no doors on the stalls though so unless you are in the very end stall people will be able to see you there as they walk by. The good news is that they are generally pretty clean since you clean them a couple times a day.

Been there, done that. No big deal.

[TrailerParkJawa]

You know, eventually you will need to get a job, at which point you will spend 8-10 hours a day inside a building which is not your residence. You can't clench your anus forever.

I dont know about you guys but when I see the shoes of the big boss in the shitter and I gotta go dump, I turn around and find another place. Something about taking a dump near the CEO seems wrong. I realize Im being silly, but some of my other buddies are the same way.

The CFO at my last company had something wrong with him. Dude, would stink up the bathroom for an hour.

[Master of Ossus]

You have to turn on the fan before you drop the load. Preferably even a minute earlier or so, to get the proper airflow established.

Oh i know all the techniques... i just feel embarrassed for some reason

I do, too. I have trouble taking a bowel movement in someone else's house.

[The Third Man]

You know, eventually you will need to get a job, at which point you will spend 8-10 hours a day inside a building which is not your residence. You can't clench your anus forever.

Back when I was in paid employment I made it an absolute point of principle to always take my daily dump on the company's time, whether that suited the demands of my metabolism or not.

[Joe]

I went through three years of middle school, and four years of high school without ever taking a dump in the public restrooms. Somebody give me a medal!

I gotcha beat. I never once used a school bathroom to take a dump, and the amount of dumps taken in a place outside my place of residence, permanent and temporary, number less than half a dozen.

You know, eventually you will need to get a job, at which point you will spend 8-10 hours a day inside a building which is not your residence. You can't clench your anus forever.

I work 8-10 hours a day on a regular basis out in the field, with no bathroom in sight (other than gas station bathrooms, which are a big no-no). I think you underestimate me, sir.

[The Third Man]

I dont know about you guys but when I see the shoes of the big boss in the shitter and I gotta go dump, I turn around and find another place. Something about taking a dump near the CEO seems wrong. I realize Im being silly, but some of my other buddies are the same way.

You're not being silly; terrible, terrible things can happen in this situation. An example:

One time I'm sitting taking my customary dump on works time as described in previous post, and all unbeknownst to me the Managing Director is similarly engaged in the next-door trap. My cell phone rings (I carry it at all times!) and it's not good reception so I answer with a loud "Hello". From over the partition I hear the MDs answering "Hello?", in a suitably incredulous tone as to why his subordinates should be striking up conversation with him in such circumstances.

It gets worse... I sort of shout an explanation over the partition "Errr, no, its not you, err, its the phone..." and there's no further sounds from next door, apart from the pulling up of trousers, flushing etc as he leaves. Meanwhile the guy on the phone twigs that it's not really a convenient time and says he'll call back. "Yeah OK, two minutes, thanks." Which gives me just enough time to complete my ablutions and as I'm drying my hands precisely two minutes later, phone guy calls back and I pick up the conversation as I'm exiting the gents. Only to run directly into the Managing Director in the corridor outside. So in a desperate attempt to regain some credibility and look like an exceptionally busy and hard-working employee I make it very obvious that I'm talking to a client (which I truly was).

Of course, MD isn't aware of the break in the conversation, and later in the day word gets to me that he's been speculating with the my director about how exactly I managed the wipe/flush/hand-wash manoeuvre without the clients knowledge. And reminding himself never to ask to borrow my phone.

[Enigma]

For me I can't hold my crap until I get home. I'm a delivery driver and as such I do not have the luxury of holding my crap. I find the nearest fast food restaurant and take a dump there. But if I make a delivery at a business in an office building then I'd look for a bathroom that is open. Those bathrooms are the best because they are clean and have a nice smell (that is until I get through with using that bathroom:)).

[Edi]

You know, eventually you will need to get a job, at which point you will spend 8-10 hours a day inside a building which is not your residence. You can't clench your anus forever.

Define forever. It depends on the person, but if needs be, I can hold out for several days, five or six if I really have to, and in the army that came in handy when we went on field exercises, because field toilets (often just a hole in the ground with a pole where you sit on) aren't really something I relish. I've held out eight days once when I was 12, that was the duration of a boy scout jamboree or whatever, and there was no way I was going to use those toilets...

Edi

[Enigma]

You know, eventually you will need to get a job, at which point you will spend 8-10 hours a day inside a building which is not your residence. You can't clench your anus forever.

Define forever. It depends on the person, but if needs be, I can hold out for several days, five or six if I really have to, and in the army that came in handy when we went on field exercises, because field toilets (often just a hole in the ground with a pole where you sit on) aren't really something I relish. I've held out eight days once when I was 12, that was the duration of a boy scout jamboree or whatever, and there was no way I was going to use those toilets...

Edi

I see surgery in your future. And headlines too. "Man goes to hospital after his ass explodes!" "Dying words of a man who would go for a dump, "This world's not worthy of my shit!"" and "Man is sent to hospital after involuntarily vomited out his crap!"

[RogueIce]

I'm sure you'll get the pleasure of cleaning a few before you're comissioned. Head cleaning, painting and floor waxing are some of the manin activities for future officers when they come through on their temporary ship tours. If they are lucky they'll get to do some needle gunning.

With any luck whatsoever, I'll escape that. I don't know how yet...maybe I'll land a week with a land based squadron. Can't be all bad there.

Anyway, as an officer you'll get to use the Officer's Head so there won't be quite as many people using it. Still, you might be letting one fly when your boss comes into use the place. Gotta be great for those fitreps.

Ah yeah...

"This new JO thinks his shit doesn't stink...well, I can tell you, Skipper, it most certainly does!"

I've held out eight days once when I was 12, that was the duration of a boy scout jamboree or whatever, and there was no way I was going to use those toilets...

I did that. Through two Jamborees. Much easier the second time around...

[RedImperator]

Hey, there was one guy who went for something like ten years without taking a shit, though it was because of constipation, not by choice. He had a huge gut like he was fat, but that was, in fact, his colon. When he died (of an unrelated condition) they removed eighty pounds of shit from his body. I saw his preserved colon in a museum--it was the size and shape of a boa constrictor that just finished swallowing a goat.

[Darth Garden Gnome]

Why does everyone think it's bad idea to crap at somebody elses place/work/ect.? They know that you can crap, that you might have to, they should be prepare for the worst, and you shouldn't have to suffer!

Gosh darnit, I feel like going to a neighbors house and crapping in their toilet just 'cause I can. It feels good to be an American! It feels good to crap!

*Star Spangeled Banner plays*

[thecreech]

Crapping to me is very private. It is sacred almost. I don't want to be bothered by the fact that if im in someones bathroom for along time that they might come and "check on me". I hate it when some one knocks on the bathroom door when im shitting

[Damaramu]

Except for work, I never take a shit in a public place. But I've heard plenty of stories from friends who do. The most common is:

"I'm sitting there taking a shit when all of the sudden someone comes running into the bathroom, jumps into the stall next to me, rapidly pulls down their pants and just fucking explodes into the bowl...usually followed by a audible "Ahhhhhhhh!" or "Whew!" or even a grunt."

Personally, when I'm dropping a load at work or at a friend's/relatives.....I'm always paranoid about making excessive.....noise. Unecessary pops, splatters, etc.

Plus, I can't shit in a quiet bathroom. When I go, the radio's on, the bathroom fan is on, etc.

[Slartibartfast]

There ARE deodorizers for bathrooms. They work pretty well.

[lux]

Crapping to me is very private. It is sacred almost. I don't want to be bothered by the fact that if im in someones bathroom for along time that they might come and "check on me". I hate it when some one knocks on the bathroom door when im shitting

To me that is the most annoying thing.. my fam. LOVES to knock on the door when I'm taking a shit, or even taking a shower. *THUD THUD THUD THUD* "Is anyone in there?" "Are you done yet?" "I need you to take out the trash!"

STFU!!!!!!!!

[thecreech]

Personally, when I'm dropping a load at work or at a friend's/relatives.....I'm always paranoid about making excessive.....noise. Unecessary pops, splatters, etc.

Plus, I can't shit in a quiet bathroom. When I go, the radio's on, the bathroom fan is on, etc.

If there is no fan or radio usually just run the sink water on high well i let out the primary blast after that is done then i turn it off

[SyntaxVorlon]

I went through three years of middle school, and four years of high school without ever taking a dump in the public restrooms. Somebody give me a medal!

I gotcha beat. I never once used a school bathroom to take a dump, and the amount of dumps taken in a place outside my place of residence, permanent and temporary, number less than half a dozen.

You know, eventually you will need to get a job, at which point you will spend 8-10 hours a day inside a building which is not your residence. You can't clench your anus forever.

LOL
Well if he does try, then he may be able to tell us if he's happier because of it.

[Mitth`raw`nuruodo]

I shit maybe once every 3 days, and the times that it comes when I'm not at home, I just go. I do like smaller bathrooms, or ones with noone in them, but if you gotta shit, you gotta shit. I don't like going in other people's houses tho, for some reason.

[irishmick79]

Here ya go; this one is a laugher. I found this at

http://www.office-humour.co.uk/item.cfm?itm=628

"Ryan's Steakhouse"

It was the funniest damn thing that has ever happened to me. A couple of weeks ago we decided to cruise out to Ryan's Steakhouse for dinner. It was a Wednesday night, which means that Macaroni & Beef was on the hot bar – indeed, the only night of the week that it is served. Wednesday night is also Kids’ Night at Ryan's, complete with Dizzy the Clown wandering from table to table entertaining them. It may seem that the events about to be told have little connection to those two circumstances, but all will be clear in a moment.

We went through the line and placed our orders for the all-you-can-eat hot bar then sat down as far away from the front of the restaurant as possible in order to keep the density of kids down a bit. Then I started my move to the hot bar. Plate after plate of Macaroni & Beef were consumed that evening. I tell you – in all, four heaping plates of the pseudo-Italian ambrosia were shoved into my belly. I was sated. Perhaps a bit too much, however.

I had not really been feeling well all day, what with a bit of gas and such. By the time I had eaten four overwhelmed plates of food, I was in real trouble. There was so much pressure on my diaphragm that I was having trouble breathing. At the same time, the downward pressure was building. At first, I thought it was only gas that could have been passed in batches right at the table without too much concern. Unfortunately, that was not to be. After a minute or so, it was clear that I was dealing with explosive diarrhea. It's amazing how grease can make its way through your intestines far faster than the food that spawned the grease to begin with, but I digress...

I got up from the table and made my way to the bathroom. Upon entering, I saw two sinks immediately inside the door, two urinals just to the right of the sinks, and two toilet stalls against the back wall. One of them was a handicapped bathroom. Now, normally I would have gone to the handicapped stall since I like to stretch out a bit when I take a good shit. In this case, however, the door lock was broken, and the only thing I hate worse than my wife telling me to stop cutting my toenails with a pair of diagonal wire cutters is having someone walk in on me while I am taking a shit. I went to the normal stall.

In retrospect, I probably should have gone to the large, handicapped stall even though the door would not lock because that bit of time lost in making the stall switch proved to be a bit too long under the circumstances. By the time I had walked into the regular stall, the pressure on my ass was reaching Biblical proportions. I began "The Move."

For those women who may be reading this, let me take a moment to explain "The Move." Men know exactly what their bowels are up to at any given second. And when the time comes to empty the cache, a sequence of physiological events occur that can not be stopped under any circumstances. There is a move men make that involves simultaneously approaching the toilet, beginning the body turn to position one's ass toward said toilet, hooking one’s fingers into one’s waistline, and pulling down the pants while beginning the squat at the same time. It is a very fluid motion that, when performed properly, results in the flawless expulsion of shit at the exact same second that one's ass is properly placed on the toilet seat. Done properly, it even assures that the choad is properly inserted into the front rim of the toilet in the event that the piss stream lets loose at the same time; it is truly a picture of co-ordination rivaling that of a skilled ballet dancer.

I was about halfway into "The Move" when I looked down at the floor and saw a pile of vomit that had been previously expelled by one of those little bastards attending Kids’ Night. It was mounded up in the corner so I did not notice it when I had first walked into the stall.

Normally, I would not have been bothered by such a thing, but I had eaten so much and the pressure upward was so intense, that I hit a rarely experienced gag reflex. And once that reflex started, combined with the intense pressure upward caused by the bloated stomach, four plates of Macaroni & Beef started coming up for a rematch. What happened next was so quick that the exact sequence of events is a bit fuzzy, but I will try to reconstruct them as best I can.

In that moment of impending projectile vomiting, my attention was diverted from the goings-on at the other end. To put a freeze-frame on the situation, I was half crouched down to the toilet, pants pulled down to my knees, with a load of vomit coming up my esophagus. Now, most of you know that vomiting takes precedence over shit no matter what is about to come slamming out of your ass. It is apparently an evolutionary thing since shitting will not kill you, but vomiting takes a presence of mind to accomplish so that you do not aspirate any food into the bronchial tubes and perhaps choke to death. My attention was thus diverted.

At that very split second, my ass exploded in what can only be described as a wake...you know, as in a newspaper headline along the lines of "30,000 Killed In Wake of Typhoon Fifi" or something similar. In what seemed to be most suitably measured in cubic feet, an enormous plug of shit with the consistency of thick mud with embedded pockets of greasy liquid came flying out of my ass. But remember I was only halfway down on the toilet at that moment. The shit wave was of such force and of just such an angle in relation to the back curve of the toilet seat that it ricocheted off the back of the seat. After doing so, it slammed into the wall at an angle of incidence equal to the angle at which it initially hit the toilet seat. Then I sat down. Recall that when that event occurred, I was already halfway to sitting anyway and had actually reached the point of no return. I have always considered myself as relatively stable gravitationally, but when you get beyond a certain point, you're going down no matter how limber you may be. Needless to say, the shit wave, though of considerable force, was not so sufficient so as to completely glance off the toilet seat and deposit itself on the walls, unlike what you would see when hitting a puddle with a high-pressure water hose. Even though you throw water at the puddle, the puddle gets moved and no water is left to re-form a puddle. There was a significant amount of shit remaining on about one-third of the seat rim which I had now just collapsed upon. Now, back to the vomit...

While all the shitting was going on, the vomit was still on its way up. By the time I had actually collapsed on the toilet, my mouth had filled up with a goodly portion of the Macaroni & Beef I had just consumed. OK, so what does the human body instinctively do when vomiting? One bends over. So I bent over. I was still sitting on the toilet, though. Therefore, bending over resulted in me placing my head above my now slightly opened legs, positioned in between my knees and waist. Remember that this position placed my head directly above my pants, which were now pulled down to a point just midway between my knees and my ankles. Oh, did I mention that I was wearing not just pants, but sweat pants with elastic on the ankles? In one mighty push, some three pounds of Macaroni & Beef, two or three Cokes, and a couple of big, fat yeast rolls were deposited in my pants...on the inside...with no ready exit at the bottom down by my feet.

In the next several seconds, there were a handful of farts, a couple of turds, and the event ended. Yet I was now sitting there with my pants full of vomit. My back was covered in Shit that had bounced off the toilet, spattered on three ceramic-tiled walls to a height of about five feet, and still had enough force to come back at me, covering the back of my shirt with droplets of liquid shit. All while thick shit was spread all over my ass in a ring curiously in the shape of a toilet seat. And there was no fucking toilet paper.

What could I do but laugh. I must have sounded like a complete maniac to the guy who then wandered into the bathroom. He actually asked if I was OK, since I was laughing so hard I must have sounded like I was crying hysterically. I calmed down just enough to ask him if he would get the manager. And told him to have the manager bring some toilet paper. When the manager walked in, he brought the toilet paper with him, but in no way was prepared for what happened next. I simply told him that there was no way I was going to explain what was happening in the stall, but that I needed several wet towels and I needed him to go ask my wife to come help me. I told him where we were sitting and he left.

At that point, I think he was probably assuming that I had pissed just a bit in my pants or something similarly benign. About two minutes later, my wife came into the bathroom not knowing what was wrong and with a certain amount of worry in her voice. I explained to her (still laughing and having trouble getting out words) that I had a slight accident and needed her help. Knowing that I had experienced some close calls in the past, she probably assumed that I had laid down a small turd or something and just needed to bring the car around so we could bolt immediately. Until I asked her, I'm sure she had no idea that she was about to go across the street and purchase me new underwear, new socks, new pants, a new shirt, and (by that time due to considerable leakage around the elastic ankle thingies) new sneakers. And she then started to laugh herself since I was still laughing. She began to ask for an explanation as to what had happened when I promised her that I would tell her later, but that I just needed to handle damage control for the time being. She left.

The manager then came back in with half-a-dozen wet towels and a few dry ones. I asked him to also bring a mop and bucket upon which he assured me that they would clean up anything that needed to be cleaned. Without giving him specific details, I explained that what was going on in that stall that night was far in excess of what I would expect anyone to deal with, what with most of the folks working at Ryan's making minimum wage of just slightly above. At that moment, I think it dawned on him exactly the gravity of the situation. Then that manager went so far above the call of duty that I will be eternally grateful for his actions. He hooked up a hose. Fortunately, commercial bathrooms are constructed with tile walls and floors and have a drain in the middle of the room in order to make clean up easy. Fortunately, I was in a commercial bathroom. He hooked up the hose to the spigot located under the sink as I began cleaning myself up with the wet towels. Just as I was finishing, my wife got back with the new clothes and passed them into the stall, whereupon I stuffed the previously worn clothing into the plastic bag that came from the store, handing the bag to my wife. I finished cleaning myself off and carefully put on my new clothes. I was still stuck in the stall since I figured that it would be in bad taste to go out of the stall to get redressed in the event I happened to be standing there naked and some little kid walked in. At that point, I had only made a mess; I had not yet committed a felony and intended to keep it that way.

When I finished getting dressed, I picked up the hose and cleaned up the entire stall, washing down the remains toward the drain in the center of the room. I put down the hose and walked out of the bathroom. I had intended to go to the manager and thank him for all he had done, but when I walked out, three of the management staff were there to greet me with a standing ovation. I started laughing so hard that I thought I was going to throw up again, but managed to scurry out to the car where my wife was now waiting to pick me up by the front door.

The upshot of all this is that I strongly recommend eating dinner at Ryan's Steak House. They have, by far, the nicest management staff of any restaurant in which I have eaten.

http://www.office-humour.co.uk/item.cfm?itm=628

amazing thing is this guy actually cleaned it up...

[Damaramu]

~SNIP~

That story is fucking amazing!

[thecreech]

Holy shit (pun)... I had a friend that had a similar thing happen to him but it was at a baseball game and he had to walk about with shit and vomit on him... that guy got real lucky

[Galvatron]

I used to be shy about it until this one time I had to take a shit so bad while I was driving around in some other neighborhood that I pulled over in front of a Mormon church and shat in the bushes by a tree. I was lucky I had a package of baby wipes with me because it was an explosion!

[Frank Hipper]

Going out with friends one night, I realised halfway to the bar that I had diarrhea, the kind where holding it makes you break out in a cold sweat. After about half an hour of this horrific torture, we got there and I made a bee-line for the bathroom.

No way was I shitting there, it was a urinal, a non-functional sink, and a toilet without so much as a stall. The fucking door would have banged my knees if somebody had come in while I was sitting on it. I'm poop-shy, like several people in this thread.

I went to the liquor store across the parking lot from the bar, explained my urgent need and the facilities next door, and the clerk showed me the bathroom with a knowing grin.

He wasn't grinning when I left.

That was the most gaseous, watery, stench filled scatalogical experience of my life. And this was a tiny liquor store, too. By the time I was finished, my olfactory receptors had overloaded and I could smell nothing, but there was no way that poor store did not smell of my ass, and strongly! And the sounds that must have emanated, the farts, the splatters, the splashes. If you had a tape recorder handy, you could have made money selling that in the comedy section at a record store.....

[thecreech]

I used to be shy about it until this one time I had to take a shit so bad while I was driving around in some other neighborhood that I pulled over in front of a Mormon church and shat in the bushes by a tree. I was lucky I had a package of baby wipes with me because it was an explosion!

I had to make a shit stop outdoors one time. My family and i had gone to a popular lake where i live to fish. Either way my stomach started to churn and i was perking pretty good. I ran to the nearest portapody but someone was in it. I ran into the forest but there was people everywhere. So finally i found a tree that was by a small family eating and i blast away. I wiped with some dry ass leaves and walked away. I heard the family asking each other who farted