My Fearsome Craps
My Fearsome Craps: Tales of Restroom Destruction
This page will be frequently updated with recollections of the fearsome craps people take in their offices and the discussions that ensue. All are welcome to contribute to the repository of specimen documentation. Examples of specimen description include color, consistency, aroma, intensity, speed, angle of bowl entry, and taste. Enjoy!
An Infomative Wikipedia Article on Human Feces!
- I just pinched the funniest looking turd in the office bathroom. It started out as a skinny little thing already, over 1 ft. in length, but after the first 8 inches of log, it seemed like my sphincter forgot that there was more coming, so it just started to pinch off, thus extruding the last 6 inches into this skinnier piece of crap that was maybe 3/4 –inch in diameter. It reminded me of the Play-Doh toys I had when I was a child and pretended to be an Eye-talian pasta-making chef with the various shapes of extrusion. I wonder if there is a market for such a product to aid in the rectal formation of fecal matter into amusing shapes and diameters? Is it possible to make a back door canelloni? Gnocchi? Rigatoni?
The crap itself had the consistency of gum, and it was therefore hard to wipe off the soft matter afterwards and it stank of bad dairy – I would say I’ve had far cleaner breakaways. I think this was due to the bad mac and cheese I had for dinner last night. In the future, when I consume bad mac and cheese for dinner, I will make sure to experiment with flexing my sphincter muscles to see if it is possible to construct sculptures through expert bowel control. More on this as progess dictates. --Ubernerd 10:59, 26 May 2006 (EST)
- The last few days I've been plagued with internal distress manifesting itself as fearsome tan squirts of fire. It has no structure to it and shreds in the bowl, and burns like the devil coming out of my butt. Also, it smells really horrible. Like, really, really horrible. -Zahnnie 11:06, 26 May 2006 (EST)
- Over the weekend I had a piece of steak that was cold and purple in the middle, just the way I like it. Good lord that was delicious. Unfortunately the end result of consuming such a delicious portion of meat is the dreaded "steak farts." Those of you who are unfamiliar with steak farts should be aware that they are some of the foulest-smelling, concentrated bursts of stale air bubbles that a colon is capable of. Any of you who have ever been on, or shared restroom space with someone on the Atkins diet (or any other all-protien diet) will have a good idea of the aroma. Think processed wet dog food whipped in a blender with concentrated human feces. That's the gamey smell I am referring to. These steak farts permeated the rest of the weekend with their presence, up until the moment I voided the steak from my bowels in a momentous, sticky, stinky payloaf, punctuated by several escape-and-evade steak farts of an almost bagpipe-resonance.--Ubernerd 08:21, 31 May 2006 (EST)
- I think I gave myself food poisoning last night via my coffeemaker. I knew I should have washed the filter holder more thoroughly. Especially since it had two week old coffee grounds festering in it from when Tom made coffee and cleverly forgot to clean up after himself, as usual. Being the usual lazy shit I am, I merely rinsed the coffee filter holder in really hot water, without antibacterial soap, under the false assumption that hot water would kill enough of the germs. I can tell you now that what followed this morning was surely anything but a lazy shit. I awoke in the middle of the night with horrendous gut-pains of a lower intestinal variety. I began by pinching some wheaty-looking loaves (when had I eaten wheat, I wonder?) and was in the middle of pinching off several more petite little loaves when my carpool arrived. Neatly wiping up I left, only to arrive at the office and spend half an hour painfully voiding my aching bowels of what I had assumed to be the rest of my solid meals from yesterday. However, 15 minutes ago I went to the bathroom experienced perhaps one of the most violent splattering shrapnel-shits I have probably ever experienced. While there was not much matter in the bowl iself upon examining the aftermath, I was horrified to find that I had managed to spray the bowl of the toilet with a substance akin to French's Spicy Brown mustard in a parabolic arc along the inner rim. Throughout these mortar bursts, I could feel and hear a gurgling and shift in my lower abdomen, clearly my intestines at work, loading up each wave of artillery as it exploded from my bunghole with a sickly, suffocated fart originating from deep within. The toilet looked like an apple brown betty, crumbs and all. --Ubernerd 13:30, 6 Jun 2006 (EST)
- So evidently when I get stressed, my bowels misbehave terribly. The last couple days I've been all gnawing-guilt about this one friend of mine, and then on top of it Nick and parents and Eric visiting and trying to make everything perfect, so my stomach's been in one big knot. And by "stomach" I mean "bowels". One morning I pooped like six times, each time it was like firing a pebble out of a cannon, this little torn-looking hunk of grey-brown poot. And it burned like fire, even with nice TP when you poop six times in a row your bunghole gets chafed. It's so unpleasant. But I finally started having good movements again, woohoo. --Zahnnie 08:41, 7 Jun 2006 (EST)
- Holy tortellini, Batman. Green poop! Has anyone ever done THAT before? I took a crap this afternoon and boy, oh, boy, when I wiped, it looked like I'd smashed a kiwi on my butthole! What the heck!? But sure enough, when I looked into the bowl, lo and behold, it was a solid green turd; looked like Barnabus (Tom's african tree snake) crawling out of a hole. It must have been all that salad I ate this weekend before and during Legends - I guess it's true what they say: "salad in, salad out." I suppose that goes doubly true for when you've eaten *nothing* but salad, and maybe a chicken finger or two, and topped it off with delicious cognac and scotch. It took me so long to properly wipe off the ol' chocolate starfish after that one... oh, my kingdom for a moistened wet-wipe! --Ubernerd 14:23, 19 Jun 2006 (EST)
- What a strange occurrence! This morning I overslept a bit so grabbed my usual bagel 'n coffee from the Dunkin Donuts at Alewife. Iced coffee since it's summer. Now, I'm well aware that when I drink coffee on an empty stomach, I'm setting myself up for a trip to the john- or several! Also, flatulent dissonance of an epic scale! Nevertheless, I drank like half my icey treat before I could sit down and attend to my bagel. Will I never learn? Probably not. So I get to my office and sure enough, my stomach's a grumbling. Fully expecting great pain and "splattering shrapnel" I head to the can. To my surprise, my poo was only partially mutilated- it was of loose consistency, and looked somewhat as though it had been roughly torn into hunks (like bread dough). It was paler than usual, but not the sickly tan turd I usually expect on coffee-poo. HOWEVER. The smell of the poo was sharp and terrifying. I sat in the can and was momentarily dizzy when it reached my nostrils. It was like the worst eggy fart ever. Usually, I can deal with my own reek, cause you know, it's never as bad for you. But not in this case. Also, it took two flushes because the poo disintegrated when I hit the flusher. Hilarity! -Zahnnie 09:57, 26 Jun 2006 (EST)
- Many of you may well be familiar with the myth of the Medusa and her unholy tangled locks of snakes. This morning, I was reminded of said myth as I forcibly voided my bowels of their contents in a seemingly neverending series of squeeze-and-plop, squeeze-and-plop, progressively decreasing in size and length, until the resulting ballistae produced from my arse-barrel resembled nothing so much as small brown olives. Upon examination, I discovered the bowl graced by a writhing mess of tangled turds, much resembling the crown of the Medusa surrounded by small brown olive satellites, all of which I disposed of with a single Herculean flush. The smell itself served to remind me of the delicacies consumed during the belated birthday evening that Tom prepared for me: that is to say, a delectable assortment of fresh cheeses, prosciutto, blueberries, apples, and a large mound of olives, all accompanied by a tasty Riesling selection, and followed by a sip of vintage port. One might say I defecated a veritable feast fit for the gods! In fact, I dare go so far as to claim that the pile of crap itself was nearly fit for consumption... that is, if it hadn't been, well, a pile of crap. Delicious! --Ubernerd 13:47, 26 Jun 2006 (EST)
- This is a short one, but I thought you should all know that there was actually corn nuggets in my poo. From the corn we roasted yesterday at the barbeque. I'm talking actual solid yellow nuggets. I think my digestive system must not be working still, silly meds. Also, still haven't learned my lesson about coffee! -Zahnnie 12:03, 5 Jul 2006 (EST)
- Man oh man. Nothing is worse than the curry farts. And the curry craps that come with it. I felt some abdominal pain today, so I went to the office bathroom to relieve the payload. Good lord! After the rumble of a couple deeply satanic farts, it looked liked I'd dropped a 10 pack of Ball Park franks in the john. The most peculiar thing about it though, was that the turds were all smooth, disconcertingly straight, and lined up in perfect little rows and stacks - evenly sized to boot! Steve Patten could not have stacked his firewood so neatly if he had tried. My bunghole is not usually such a fine-tuned fecal-extrusion instrument, and so it was with great trepidation that I flushed the unintended masterpiece. It was only out of courtesy of subjecting future patrons to the stench, that I disposed of this potential omen of things to come. I wish I were somehow more astrologically inclined - perhaps the stars are somehow in alignment, and my eerily regular turds were a major portent of an impending apocalypse. If I shit out a profile of Nostradamus after lunch, I'm heading for the hills. --Ubernerd 11:41, 1 Aug 2006 (EST)
- Today has been the worse BM day ever. It's 3 pm and I've already dropped 3 scary-looking deuce bombs of decreasing size and consistency. I guess my body's getting back at me for getting tanked on Friday night on a mostly empty stomach, booting in a trash can in the Central Square T stop Saturday morning, eating nothing due to the hangover except for a bowl of *really* spicy noodles at about 3 pm, followed by a friend's sushi birthday dinner, then nothing on Sunday except for whatever few bites of fish and chips I could fit into a 24 inch waisted corset, and then more late night spicy death noodles. I'm sure the coffee and barbecue lunch for National FCS Appreciation Day didn't help either. My shit looks just like pulled pork squirting out from between a pair of sesame buns, and my ass burns like I've shoved a pack of picante chili spices up my smokestack. There's even some kind of brown rancid-smelling drippy mess and internal farty noises that sounds like I'm squeezing a bottle of barbecue sauce all over the bowl for added effect. I can't believe it looks like what I had for lunch just now. --Ubernerd 14:53, 2 Oct 2006 (EST)
- Some say that caffeine has negative side effects on a person's body when consumed in concentrated amounts. I can only attest to the truth of such a thing, especially when consumed in conjunction with a bottle of wine. In a fit of good judgement, I prepared myself for a long drive home the other night by drinking 3 Red Bull energy drinks after having consumed nearly an entire bottle of Fat Bastard Shiraz. What resulted from the consumption of this mess was every bit as vile as the taste that one might imagine this concoction would have, combined with the words "Red Tide." No, no it wasn't that time of the month, and yes, I'd just taken a shower so it definitely wasn't The Funk. The foulness that resulted from my late night cocktail resembled a bowl of disintegrating brown chowder and smelled literally like liquid fish. Who craps liquid fish?! I was so alarmed by wave after wave of loose stools being wildly jettisoned from my crap chute like so many misfired torpedoes that in a panic, I courtesy flushed before even finishing up. What a mistake! I had no idea that the toilets at work had such powerful flushes, and before I knew it, the brown rip-tide that had formed beneath me rose up and mightily splashed my poor behind before spiraling down the whirlpool below, leaving only a brown seafoam-like substance in its wake. Thank god for the showers in the bathrooms here at the office. --Ubernerd 14:14, 12 Oct 2006 (EST)
- Imagine if you will, a crustacean. Not just any crustacean... the most unpleasant crustacean imaginable to pass whole through one's colon. Then back up one step from "horseshoe crab" and you'll arrive at my latest fearsome crap: passing a lobster. Most unfortunately, the "lobster" was not a byproduct of a delicious seafood banquet, but rather, a weekend of consuming Maruchan Cup O' Noodles, popcorn, and NPC pickles from the "Dill [W]holes" jar. And though not lobster-esque by nature, it was most indeedy lobster-esque in size, shape, and exoskeletal consistency, much to my discomfort as I extruded it with great pains through my own dill [w]hole. The abnormally hard fan-like tip, followed by the progressively larger tail, tapering down to the little head, was complete with exoskeletal ribbing caused from the cracking and bending of this particularly hard piece of feces, which rendered excellent detailing and a certain je ne sais quoi to my latest grunt sculpture. The accompanying short bursts of turd (surprisingly none too malodorous in comparison to the ambient Eau d'Unwashed 4H Restroom) served to crown my masterpiece with two pointy claws, side by side at an angle slightly akimbo to the main crustaceal turd. The entirety of this mess was esconched in a bowl full of extravagant saffron liquid resembling nothing so much as a decadent bath of melted drawn butter which would have, in any other situation, caused me to go in search of my claw-crackers and seafood-fork. Truly, a masterful first in the field of faux-meat vegetarian dining.--Ubernerd 13:32, 6 November 2006 (EST)
- Oh... oh... oh god. Jumbo Choco-fudge Pocky. That is all. --Ubernerd 11:34, 7 November 2006 (EST)
- Oooooh... ooookay. Glad I didn't decide to subtly fart in my cubicle - that could have been messy. Talk about gherkin turds! No wait, I take that back: they more resembled cornichons. Little, green, curled and slightly pinched at the ends, they were most definitely the result of a mild case of food poisoning, which, I guess proves Tom was right. The 24-hour old meat pizza I ate was *probably* okay, but might have given me the mild shits. Nothing major or explosive, per se, though the moist series of farts that accompanied these mini-pickle turds on their way out were definitely a whimsical musical delight. When asked to describe these poots in further detail, I would liken them most to a puff of air being forced through the pursed lips of a tiny Raphaelian cherub, adding a cheery butt-harmonica tone and playful giggle to my baby-sized gourmet tootles. --Ubernerd 16:58, 11 December 2006 (EST)
