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Worst possible "date" ever...I don't even... Alright...I don't care if you guys believe me ... it's real. This is the the most embarassing thing that I've ever experienced... it was a horrible night for me.. and I'm sharing it with you guys because I don't want any of my misc brahs to have to go through this.. especially since it all could have been EASILY prevented. I have added MS paint images so that you have a better idea as to what happened. It's very long, but I'll do my best to recount all of the important details. no ****ing cliffs..... read it to save yourself from something like this... Anyway... If you've been following my social anxiety thread you would have learned that I got an asian girls number during my last update (the encounter wasn't recorded unfortunetely because my Camera froze). But anyway, it's been over a week and I was feeling like taking a break from exam studying, and I figured that if I didn't call her before exams were done then I wouldn't get a chance to see her until after the break (which would be too long perhaps). So I called her up and asked her if she wanted to take a break from studying and meet me for coffee. Well she said yes, and we met at a campus cafe. We had some small talk, and it went well overall. After that she said "hey my roomate is making some chinese food for dinner because her boyfriend is over, would you like to come by and try some? she usually makes way more than needed". Now at that point I felt like I had to take a sh!t, but there was no way I could turn down this opportunity; it seemed like she was into me and this would be a great opportunity to get to know each other further. So I decided to try and hold my crap as long as possible (I don't crap in public toilets) and accept her invitation. Well we went back to her place, had some food (very good btw)... and ****... I had to take take a sh!t really badly... and I also had to take a piss really badly (I had been holding that too since I didn't bring my pee bottles with me to the date)... I really didn't want to use her washroom because I didn't want stink the place up... but it became so unbearable to the point where I could feel the turd popping out of my rectum.. to make matters worse I was actually starting to get an erection (I'm not sure why.. but that's what happened). So I rushed to the washroom... and thus begins the worst possible scenario imagineable. I pull down my pants step up to the toilet and I am then faced with an ominous predicament; I have to extremely badly take BOTH a pee AND a POO.... AND I have an erection.... what the **** do I do? Which do I do first?? So I bend over and try to push my erected penis down a bit to pee into the can... but as I relax my pelvic floor muscles to release the urine.. I feel my turd start to come out at the same time! So then I'm like "fuk this... I'll just try and hold the pee and let the poo come out"... so I sit on the can... grasp my penis hard to try and "block" it... and I then tried to let the crap come out....that didn't work so well... As I relaxed my anal sphincters... my pelvic floor muscles relaxed as well and piss started flying all over the floor... I started panicking at this point... so I desperately held my crap again, while I attempted to shove/bend my erect penis into the toilet. Once it was in... I tried take the piss and crap at the same time, but my rear end was too far out and this massive turd started flying out missing the bowl, landing partially on the back rim and partially on the floor. I then closed everything off again (you can't imagine the pain of repeatedly blocking yourself from peeing and pooing when you have go so badly)... wtf was I supposed to do? I either pee on her floor or poo on her floor....then out of sheer desperation and instinct an idea popped into my head: I ran into her bathtub and let myself go there... I figured that at least this way I could rinse it all down instead of getting sh!t on her floor.... At that point things get even worse... The turd wouldn't ****ing dissolve... and the drat bish was asking me wtf I'm doing showering in her washroom.... I then answer "yea lol... I'm showering... is that ok?"... she says: what the hell? why?? you don't think we're having sex do you??? At this point I can't even think straight and I jokingly (retardedly) say: yes we are lol she then gets mad and says: wtf? is this some kind of joke... get out of there!! I say: no please don't come in... I'm not done yet... At this point the hot water I was using to try and dissolve my sh!t was releasing sh!t smelling vapours all over the room.. and it was pretty rancid... the girl could smell it and she said: "why the hell does it smell so ****ing bad? What the hell are you doing in there???" I say: please don't come in... trust me.. you'll regret it... she says: **** this... get out now or I'm unlocking the door.. I beg her not too... but she loses her patience and then opens the door. She stops dead in her tracks. There before her was me standing with a pseudo-erect penis, left over fecal residue on my rear end,large semi dissolved turds in her bathtub, turds on the floor beside her toilet, and pee all over the floor in front of the can... I was so ****ing embarassed... I started shivering... she looks at me while covering her mouth and nose and whispers... "wtf did you do???"...she was starting to cry... I hesitate for a bit and I try to explain myself "I tried my best ... I... I'm sorry"... She then flips out and tells me to clean up the mess or she's calling the cops. I agree to do it. She leaves, and I grap some toilet paper... pick up the turds from the floor and bathtub, toss them in the can, and then I proceed to clean off the floor and bathtub with soap, water and alot of tissues. I tossed most of the tissues into her toilet bowl (the garbage was full eventually). I then took some perfume from the counter and tossed into the bathtub to get rid of odour. After I was done I cleaned my rear end off and flushed the toilet. To my utmost dismay, my massive fecal matter bulk and the large amount of TP unded up clogging the toilet and it overflowed and started spilling crap all over the floor... I'm literally crying at that point... I look for the plunger but I couldn't find it so I put my pants on and rushed out to ask her if she had a plunger so I could fix the toilet...I see her with her roommate and her roommates bf... she's crying... as soon as she sees me she tells me to gtfo right now... I try to explain that the toilet is clogged... but she doesn't let me ... she says she feels threatened and she wants me out now... she graps a knife from the drawer and tells me to leave... I leave. about a minute later I hear this loud scream coming from her dorm room (I assumed she went back to the washroom to see it covered in poo water). At that point I sprinted away as fast as possible, while swearing at myself and crying tears of frustration and embarrasment. All of this could have ****ing been prevented if I had just brought my goddamn pee bottles!!! WTF?!?! The FIRST girl that shows interest in me.. I have to go and **** in her bathtub???? This is ****ing retarded (yes mad). to all you people saying "peeing in bottles is stupid/gross"... well **** that... not only is it more convenient and cleaner, but it also prevents epic disaters like this one.... This is what WOULD have happened if I had my trustee pee bottle... I would have on sat on the can and then simultaneosly peed into the bottle and pooed into the toilet. No disaster... no mess.... and none of this would have happened. anyway... should I let things cool off for a bit and call her back? maybe to apologize/explain myself? or should i just hope I never run into her again?
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Dec 13, 2018 03:19
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OMGVBFLOL posted:Worst possible "date" ever...I don't even...
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Dec 13, 2018 03:31
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Dude you’re supposed to learn to poo poo by the time you are 2 or whatever I think you may have missed a major developmental milestone and that lady has no right to be upset. 
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Dec 13, 2018 03:36
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OMGVBFLOL posted:Worst possible "date" ever...I don't even... It's good, but you're no Hakan
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Dec 13, 2018 03:37
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There's an MS Paint depiction of this story floating around somewhere, ah memories
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Dec 13, 2018 03:44
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Lumburg hosed her.
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Dec 13, 2018 03:53
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Dec 13, 2018 03:53
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Dr. Video Games 0135 posted:There's an MS Paint depiction of this story floating around somewhere, ah memories here's a bullshit video because imgur won't upload the pics https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a302BxDX6_g
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Dec 13, 2018 03:57
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https://youtu.be/1VZlKSBtu2g
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Dec 13, 2018 03:59
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Poop lmao
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Dec 13, 2018 04:00
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proof of concept posted:It's good, but you're no Hakan look at this loser who doesn’t recognize a Classic Poop Story. 
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Dec 13, 2018 04:07
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I laugh every time
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Dec 13, 2018 04:07
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The story can be summed up as "Had to poop and pee really bad on a date, went to the bathroom got a boner, pissed and shitted in the tub, turned on water to make it go down, date was confused that I was in the shower, she came in and found my mess"
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Dec 13, 2018 04:08
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Linux Pirate posted:The story can be summed up as "Had to poop and pee really bad on a date, went to the bathroom got a boner, pissed and shitted in the tub, turned on water to make it go down, date was confused that I was in the shower, she came in and found my mess" This one doesn't make me laugh
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Dec 13, 2018 04:15
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Aint that a bitch and 🚽🧻 Also ^trustee^ pee bottle lol
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Dec 13, 2018 04:16
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to make matters worse I was actually starting to get an erection (I'm not sure why.. but that's what happened)
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Dec 13, 2018 04:24
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popewiles posted:This one doesn't make me laugh I'm really good at being unfunny
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Dec 13, 2018 04:27
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I'm the unexplained allusion to piss bottles
Dr. Video Games 0135 fucked around with this message at 04:38 on Dec 13, 2018 |
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Dec 13, 2018 04:34
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"wtf did you do???"...she was starting to cry... I hesitate for a bit and I try to explain myself "I tried my best ... I... I'm sorry"...
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Dec 13, 2018 04:39
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Dr. Video Games 0135 posted:I'm the unexplained allusion to piss bottles It's the little touches that make it a classic piece of literature.
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Dec 13, 2018 04:51
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https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-DcA0p8Tvnk
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Dec 13, 2018 04:59
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https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D0u6Lb6RCz4
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Dec 13, 2018 05:04
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where is bathtub shitter now? I assume he is a furry
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Dec 13, 2018 05:16
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let it mellow posted:where is bathtub shitter now? I assume he is a furry He died
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Dec 13, 2018 05:30
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numberoneposter posted:"wtf did you do???"...she was starting to cry... I hesitate for a bit and I try to explain myself "I tried my best ... I... I'm sorry"... this part is actually super relatable
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Dec 13, 2018 06:32
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OMGVBFLOL posted:this part is actually super relatable
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Dec 13, 2018 06:36
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i too have pooped my pants because i had a boner and then clogged the toilet.
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Dec 13, 2018 06:42
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The lesson I took from this is that I should never leave home without my pee bottles.
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Dec 13, 2018 06:46
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to give you this shitty icon and give Lowtax his cyborg spine parts
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how do you poo poo in the morning with morning wood we learn how to do this when we're five
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Dec 13, 2018 07:17
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 , OP.
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Dec 13, 2018 07:34
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Dr. Video Games 0135 posted:There's an MS Paint depiction of this story floating around somewhere, ah memories Oh, wow, is that what that is? I know this story, and I think I've seen the MSPaint you're talking about, but I never equated the two.
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Dec 13, 2018 10:03
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From right around 1998 on a web site called https://www.word.com comes the story of a man with a much younger girlfriend, a drug problem, dinner with her parents, and a toileting issue. (https://web.archive.org/web/19980121233135fw_/http://word.com:80/habit/turd/index.html) I'm at this dinner. She's eighteen. After knowing her six months I've been invited to meet her parents. I am, to my surprise, forty-four, same age as her dad, a professor--a man of some achievement, but not that much. He is looking at me or, as I imagine, looking me over. The girl-woman will always be his daughter, but for now she is my lover. Her two younger sisters are at the table, also beautiful, but with a tendency to giggle, particularly when facing in my direction. The mother, a teacher, is putting the food on the table, it's trout, pink and soft, and will melt on the tongue. And there's salad and potatoes and wine...And I think, for once, yes, this is the life, what they call a happy family, they've asked to meet me, why not settle down and enjoy it? But what happens, the moment I'm comfortable I've got to have a crap. In all things I'm irregular. It's been two days now and not a dry pellet. And the moment I sit down in my better clothes with the family I've got to go. These are good people but they're a little severe, and who can argue, do they want their daughter with me, you know. I bring disadvantages, my age, no job, never had one, and my...tendencies. I like to say, though I won't tonight, unless things get out of hand, that my profession is failure, at which, after years of practice, I'm quite a success at. On the way I stopped off for a couple of drinks, otherwise I'd never have come through the door, and now I'm sipping wine and discussing the latest films not too facetiously and my hands aren't shaking and my little girl is down the table smiling at me warm and encouraging. For once everything is normal, you see, except for this gut-ache, which is getting worse, you know how it is when you've got to go. But I won't get upset, I'll have a crap, feel better and then eat. I ask one of the sisters where it is and she kindly points at a door off the kitchen, where we're eating. It must be the nearest, thank Christ, and I get across the room stooping a little but no way the family's gonna see me as a hunchback and in no time I've nipped behind the door. In here it's tiny, a little bigger than a phone booth; there's no sink, nothing but carpet and books, but I'm safe. I sit down concerned they're gonna hear every splash but it's too late; the knotty little head is already pushing out, a flower coming through the earth, but thick and long and I'm not even straining. I can feel its soft motion through my gut, in one piece. It's been awaiting its moment the way things do, like love. I close my eyes and appreciate the relief as the corpse of days past slides into its watery grave. When I'm finished I can't resist glancing down--even the Queen does this--and the turd is complete, wide as an aubergine and purplish too, flecked with carrot, I notice taking a closer look, but ah, that's tomato, I remember now, practically the only thing I've eaten in twenty- four hours. I flush the toilet and check my look. Tired and greying I am now, with a cut above my eye and a bruise on my cheek, but I've shaved and feel as OK as I ever will, still with the boyish smile that says I can't harm you. And waiting is the girl who loves me, the last of many, I hope, who sends me vibrations of confidence. My hand is on the door when I glance down and see the prow of the turd turning the bend. Oh no, it's floating in the pan again and I'm bending down for a better look. It's one of the biggest turds I've ever seen. The flushing downpour has rinsed it and there's no doubt that as turds go it is exquisite, flecked and inlaid like a mosaic depicting, perhaps, a historical scene. I can make out large figures going at one another in argument. The faces I'm sure I've seen before. I can see some words but I haven't got my glasses to hand. I could have photographed the turd, had I brought a camera, had I ever owned one. But now I can't hang around, the trout must be cooling and they're too polite to start eating without me. The problem is, the turd is bobbing. I'm waiting for the cistern to refill and every drip is an eternity, I can feel the moments stretching out, and outside I can hear the murmured voices of my love's family but I can't leave that submarine there and the mother goes in and sees it wobbling about. She knows I've been in the clinic and can see I'm drinking again; I've been watching my consumption, as they say, but I can't stop and she's gonna take her daughter to one side and... I've been injecting my little girl. "What a lovely way to take drugs," she says sweetly. She wants to try everything. I don't argue with that and I won't patronize her. Anyhow, she's a determined little blonde thing, and for her friends it's fashionably exciting. I could tell she'd made up her mind to become an addict. It took me days to hunt out the best stuff for her, pharmaceutical. It's been five years for me, but I took it with her to make sure she didn't make a mistake. Except an ex-boyfriend caught up with us later, took me into a doorway and split my face for corrupting her. Yet she skips school to be with me and we take in Kensington Market and Chelsea, the history in fashion and music of which I explain. The records I say listen to, the books I hold out, the bands I've played with, the creative people I tell her of, the deep talks we have, are worth as much as anything she hears at school, I know that. But all the same, I'm terrified of what I'm getting into. At last I flush it again and imagine my love outside the door waiting for me. Girls like her...it is easy to speak of exploitation, and people do. But it is time and encouragement I give them...I know from experience, oh yes, how critical and diminishing parents can be and I say try, I say yes, attempt anything....And I in my turn, am someone for them to care for. It breaks my heart but I've got, maybe, two years with her before she sees I can't be helped and she will pass beyond me into interesting worlds I cannot enter. I pray only she isn't pulling up her sleeve and stroking her tracks, imagining her friends being impressed by those mascots, the self-inflicted scars of experience; those girls are dedicated to the truth, and like to show their parents how defiant they can be. I'm reaching for the door, the water is clear and I imagine the turd swimming towards Ramsgate. But no, no, no, don't look down, what's that, the brown bomber must have an aversion to the open sea. The monstrous turd is going nowhere and nor am I while it remains an eternal recurrence. I flush it again and wait but it won't leave its port and what am I going to do, this must be an existential moment and all my days have converged here. I'm trembling and running with sweat but not yet lost; I can, if pressed, become a master of improvisation. The next thing is: I'm rolling up the sleeves of my Italian suit, it's an old suit, but it's my best jacket, I don't have a lot of clothes, I wear what people give me, what I find in the places I end up, and what I steal. I'm crying inside too, you know, but what can I do but stick my hand down the pan, into the pissy water, that's right, oh dark, dark, dark, and fish around until my fingers sink into the turd, get a muddy grip and yank it from the water. for a moment it seems to come alive, wriggling like a fish. My instinct is to calm it down,and I look around the bathroom for a place to bash it, but not if it's going to splatter everywhere, I wouldn't want them imagining I'm on some kind of dirty protest... I try to steady my mind and think soon I'll be out of here into life again. By now they must have started eating, unless they're still waiting, and asking where is he? And what am I doing but standing here with a giant turd in my fist and not only that my fingers seem to adhere to the turd; bits of my flesh are pulled away and my hand is turning brown. I must have eaten something unusual, because my nails and the palms are turning the color of gravy. My love's radiant eyes, her loving softness. But in all ways she is a demanding girl. She insists on trying other drugs, and in the afternoons we play like children, dressing up and inventing characters, until my compass no longer points to Reality. I am her assistant as she tests the limits of the world. How far out can she go and still be home in time for tea? I have to try and keep up, for she is my comfort. With her I am living my life again, but too quickly all at once. And in the end, to get clear, to live her life, she will leave me; or, to give her a chance, I must leave her. I dream, though, of marriage and of putting the children to bed. But for all that, I am told, it is already too late. How soon things become too late, and before one has acclimatized! I glance unbelievingly at the turd and notice something, oh no, yes it's true, oh no it's not, I can see little teeth in its velvet head and a little mouth opening and it's smiling at me, oh no, it's smiling and what's that, it's winking, yes, the piece of poo poo is winking up at me, and what's that at the other end, a sort of tail, it's moving, yes it's moving, and oh Jesus, it's trying to say something, to speak, no, no, I think it wants to sing, yes and even though it is somewhere stated that the truth may be found anywhere and the universe of dirt may send strange messengers to speak to us, the last thing I want, right now in my life, is a singing turd. I want to smash the turd back down into the water and hold it under and run out of there, but the mother, when the mother comes in and I'm scoffin the trout and she's taking down her drawers I'm gonna worry that the turd lurking around the bend's gonna flip up like a piranha and attach itself to her oval office, maybe after singing a sarcastic ditty, and she's going to have an impression of me that I don't want. But I won't dwell on that, I'm going to think constructively where possible even though its bright little eyes are glinting and the mouth is moving and it has developed scales under which ooze--don't think about it. And what's that, little wings... I grab the toilet roll and rip off about a mile of paper and start wrapping it around the turd, around and around, so those eyes are never gonna look at me again, and smile in that way. But even in its paper shroud it's warm and getting warmer, warm as life, and practically throbbing and giving off odours. I look desperately around the room for somewhere to stuff it, a pipe or behind a book, but it's gonna reek, I know that, and if it's gonna start moving, that's what I'm afraid of, it could end up anywhere in the house; and my arms are turning brown...and I'm getting warm, I'm wet with fear, my whole body feels slimy... There's a knocking on the door. I freeze. It happens again, and gets louder and more urgent. A voice too--my love. I'm about to reply oh love love when I hear other, less affectionate raised voices. An argument is taking place. Someone is turning the handle; another person is kicking at the door. Almost on me, they're trying to smash it in! I will chuck it out the window! I rest the turd on the sill and drag up the casement with both hands. But suddenly I am halted by the sky. As a boy I'd lie on my back watching clouds; as a teenager I swore that in a less hectic future I would contemplate the sky until its beauty passed into my soul, like the soothing pictures I've wanted to study, bathing in the colours and textures of paint, the cities I've wanted to walk, loafing, the aimless conversations I wanted to have--one day, a constructive aimlessness. Now the wind is in my face, lifting me, and I am about to fall. But I hang on and instead throw the turd, like a warm pigeon, and scream, out out into the air, turd-bird awayaway. I wash my hands in the sink, flush the toilet once more, and turn back to life. On, on, one goes, despite everything, not knowing why or how.
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Dec 13, 2018 10:31
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it's too bad no one backed up all of Malodrax's vids before he deleted them. Due to that we're stuck with poo poo like this by people who don't know what they were doing. this is like a step above recording your computer screen with a camcorder. oh well https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3q3UcSzSmi0
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Dec 14, 2018 23:59
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doctorfrog posted:From right around 1998 on a web site called https://www.word.com comes the story of a man with a much younger girlfriend, a drug problem, dinner with her parents, and a toileting issue. Nice! another Classic Poop Story. Keep em comin’! turdbird awayaway
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Dec 15, 2018 00:56
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wheres the mspaint diagrams?
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Dec 15, 2018 01:11
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Another Classic Poop Story, this one from the pages of Esquire Magazine. https://www.esquire.com/entertainment/a129/sedaris-big-boy-1199/ A Classic Sedaris Piece: "Big Boy" There, in the toilet, was the absolute biggest piece of work I have ever seen. BY DAVID SEDARIS JAN 29, 2007 imageGetty ImagesDavid Corio Pictured: An unrelated, but nonetheless hysterical, photo shoot in a bathroom with David Sedaris from 1993. —Eds. IT WAS EASTER SUNDAY in Chicago, and my sister Amy and I were attending an afternoon dinner at the home of our friend John. The weather was nice, and he'd set up a table in the backyard so that we might sit out in the sun. Everyone had taken their places when I excused myself to visit the bathroom, and there, in the toilet, was the absolute biggest piece of work I have ever seen in my life--no toilet paper or anything, just this long and coiled specimen, as thick as a burrito. ADVERTISEMENT - CONTINUE READING BELOW ADVERTISEMENTSCROLL TO CONTINUE WITH CONTENT I flushed the toilet, and the big boy roused around. It shifted position, but that was it. This thing wasn't going anywhere. I thought briefly of leaving it behind for someone else to take care of, but it was too late for that--before leaving the table, I'd stupidly told everyone where I was going. "I'll be back in a minute," I'd said. "I'm just going to run to the bathroom." My whereabouts were public knowledge. I should have said I was going to make a phone call. I'd planned to pee and maybe run a little water over my face, but now I had this to deal with. The tank refilled, and I made a silent promise. The deal was that if this thing would go away, I'd repay the world by performing some unexpected act of kindness. I flushed the toilet, and the beast spun a lazy circle. "Go on," I whispered. "Scoot! Shoo!" I claimed a giddy victory, but when I looked back down, there it was, bobbing to the surface in a fresh pool of water. Just then, someone knocked on the door, and I started to panic. "Just a minute." At an early age, my mother had sat me down and explained that everyone has bowel movements. "Everyone," she'd said. "Even the president and his wife." She'd mentioned our neighbors, the priest, and several of the actors we saw each week on television. I'd gotten the overall picture, but, natural or not, there was no way I was going to take the rap for this one. "Just a minute!" I seriously considered lifting this monster out of the toilet and tossing it out the window. It honestly crossed my mind, but John lived on the ground floor and a dozen people were seated at a picnic table ten feet away. They'd see the window open and notice something drop to the ground. And these were people who would surely gather round and investigate, then there I'd be, with my unspeakably filthy hands, trying to explain that it wasn't mine. But why bother throwing it out the window if it wasn't mine? No one would have believed me except the person who had left it in the first place, and chances were pretty slim that the freak in question would suddenly step forward and own up to it. I was trapped. ADVERTISEMENT - CONTINUE READING BELOW "I'll be out in a second!" And I scrambled for the plunger and used the handle to break it into manageable pieces, all the while thinking that it wasn't fair, that this was technically not my job. Another flush and it still didn't go down. Come on, pal. Let's move it. While waiting for the tank to refill, I thought maybe I should wash my hair. It wasn't dirty, but I needed some excuse to cover the amount of time I was spending in the bathroom. Quick, I thought. Do something. By now, the other guests were probably thinking I was the type of person who uses dinner parties as an opportunity to defecate and catch up on his reading. "Here I come. I'm just washing up!" One more flush and it was all over. The thing was gone and out of my life. I opened the door to find my friend Janet, who said, "Well, it's about time." And I was left thinking that the person who'd abandoned this man-made object had no problem with it, so why did I? Why the big deal? Had it been left there to teach me a lesson? Had a lesson been learned? Did it have anything to do with Easter? I resolved to put it all behind me, and then I stepped outside to begin examining the suspects.
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Dec 19, 2018 07:55
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doctorfrog posted:
He says there's no sink, then washes his hands in the sink at the end. FAKE NEWS.
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Dec 19, 2018 08:10
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proof of concept posted:It's good, but you're no Hakan
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Dec 19, 2018 08:28
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OMGVBFLOL posted:Another Classic Poop Story, this one from the pages of Esquire Magazine. It's good, but you're no Hakan
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Dec 19, 2018 08:47
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| # ? Apr 26, 2024 16:12 |
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post some hakan stories then, i lost that .txt years ago
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Dec 19, 2018 09:19
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