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Oh... No...
Monday, 2005 February 28 - 9:53 pm
I'm a little worried about the fact that so many articles in this category involve bodily functions. But, oh well, here we go again.

If you are uncomfortable with stories about poop, then you are [a] not one of my regular readers; [b] not one of the many diaper-saturated mommies who stumble upon this blog via Suburban Bliss, or [c] Jen. So caveat lector. (Is that right? Reader beware. I never took Latin.)

Yesterday Dooce asked everyone to provide their most embarrassing stories. Right now there are more than 400 responses. By my count, at least half of them involve farting, and another 25% involve peeing or pooping in public. I figured if I posted my own pooping story there, it would just get lost in the shuffle. So I'm writing it here.

Now, I have a childhood story where, as a five-year-old boy, I needed to poop and I thought I might just poop outdoors because I had seen dogs do it, so what's the harm? So I went around the corner of a building and pulled my pants down, but a woman happened to walk up, and she looked at me with a horrified expression. So I pulled my pants back up and ran away. I can't remember what happened next but I think I did make it to a bathroom eventually.

But that is not my real pooping story.

The real pooping story happened just a couple of years ago. No one has ever heard this story until now, but remember The New Theme of the Real Kato Online: "wet and dirty". This story definitely falls into that category.

I was driving home from an evening out downtown. I had just eaten dinner, and I think I had a glass of wine. I can't remember what it was that I had eaten; perhaps some sort of fish or something. But whatever it was, it was not sitting right in my stomach. I started to get that feeling of urgency, as if monkeys were squeezing my intestines from the inside. This was not good.

At that point I was over twenty minutes away from home, but only five minutes away from the building where I work. So I made the obvious decision to go use the office bathroom. As the minutes ticked by, the feeling grew worse. I even started to sweat. By the time I got to the building, I was nearly in a panic.

It was fairly late, like 9:00 p.m., so I had to use my badge to unlock the front doors. More delay. On the first floor bathroom, the janitor was in the middle of cleaning. For crying out loud, why NOW? I didn't want to release this intestinal crap-plosion in front of anyone. So I ran up to the second floor. Then I figured, wait: the janitor would probably be on his way up soon. Better to go to the third floor. That's where my office was, anyway, and it seemed only right that I should unleash the hell-storm within a familiar place. So up I went. Clench. Step. Clench. Step.

When I finally made it into the bathroom, something caught my eye and for some reason I thought somebody was jumping out at me. I don't know, maybe it was just my reflection in the mirror or something. But it startled me, and that's when all the poop started coming. Oh. No. I. Can't. Believe. It. I LITERALLY SCARED THE CRAP OUT OF MYSELF. I was two feet from the toilet and I just didn't make it.

I won't go into all the details, but it was pretty messy. Messy enough that I would have to take off my underpants and go home commando, so I wasn't sitting in poop the whole way home. So I went into the toilet stall and prepared to clean myself up.

There was no toilet paper.

This was one of those moments like in a movie where I would scream NOOOOOOO and the word would echo through the building, the city, and then the entire planet. But I didn't actually scream because the last thing I wanted was for someone to rush in to see what was the matter... especially the janitor, who would surely be on his way up to the third floor soon. I mean, he would be carrying with him the precious precious toilet paper, but at that point I just didn't want anyone within twenty miles of me.

There were some paper towels there. Hmm. I had a moment of indecision. I know that you're not supposed to flush paper towels because they don't disintegrate properly, and they can clog up the pipes. But I had to get myself clean, and I wasn't about to leave a bunch of smelly, poopy paper towels in the trash can, either. What to do?

With no pants on, I dashed out of the stall, and I got a few hundred paper towels and wet them in the sink. I hurried back into the stall and cleaned myself up. And I started flushing. I flushed the towels one at a time, and with each flush I had this horrific vision of the pipes clogging and bursting, thus flooding the entire building. Someone would investigate and find that I was the one who used my badge to unlock the doors, so it must have been me who was responsible for the millions of dollars of damage. I would have to leave town in disgrace, forever known as Poopy Ken the Clog-Maker.

But fortunately, no such tragedy occurred. The industrial flushing mechanisms held up, I got myself clean, I went home commando, and no one was the wiser...

...until now. This would not have been an embarrassing story if no one had found out about it. So why am I telling it to you?

I just couldn't hold it in any longer.

(Groan.)
Permalink  4 Comment   Bookmark and Share
Posted by Ken in: funnyhaha

Comments

Comment #1 from Crouching Hamster (Guest)
2005 Mar 1 - 6:55 pm : #
A tour de force! I laughed! I cried! (I appreciate.)
Comment #2 from Travis Tidmore (Guest)
2005 May 16 - 2:53 pm : #
Simply Stunning!
Comment #3 from Speaker (Guest)
2005 May 16 - 3:11 pm : #
bwa ha! worse than mine!

Was in tokyo.....first experience with washikitoire....i was prepared though, because I KNEW about them....at least, i thought I was prepared until i actually was standing right over one......

my bowels were in the same state as yours and all i could do was stare at the bassonet shaped porcelain thing. I tried using it the correct way, but my pants got in the way...i ended up having to use the damned thing backwards!

and then, after being relieved, i suddenly remembered.....in japan, you carry your own toilet paper! I sat there waiting for about 15 minutes until my friend's father came in...he realized i probably didn't have any......my legs were KILLING me after that....
Comment #4 from olafandyjon (Guest)
2005 May 20 - 2:34 pm : #
Note to self...don't read entries like thsi in the office....people have this tendency to stare at someone laughing hysterically for no obvious reason...

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