To the cute girl standing behind me in the checkout line at Ralphs,

I’m sorry I shit my pants and you had to bear the smell. Thank you for not saying anything. You were a great sport.

It wasn’t supposed to turn out that way. I was walking to Ralphs to buy some groceries for dinner when all of a sudden outside in the parking lot I had one of those rare moments. You know the kind, when you feel a load coming on so bad you have to stop and squeeze your cheeks together to keep it in. Well, it didn’t work this time. A good half load oozed out into my Banana Republic boxer briefs. I wasnâ’t sure at first, but then I lightly padded my butt like a mother checks to see if a baby needs changing, and sure enough: I pooped myself.
The logical thing would have been to make the uncomfortable walk back to my apartment, shower, and journey out again.
I didn’t.

I figured I was already there and walking the three blocks back to my apartment was probably the equivalent of walking up and down the aisles of Ralphs. If I was going to wallow around in my own feces, I might as well accomplish my original mission while doing so. Walking through the frozen food section, I imagined this was probably a sensation I hadn’t experienced since diapers. I had a little extra weight I was carrying around and there was a little mushy texture around my taint. However, I had it under control and went about my shopping.

Then the smell hit me.

Oh, it was bad. This wasn’t something that could be passed off as a fart. This was poop. I started shopping more quickly, grabbing cans and produce off the shelves as I waddled down the aisles. After filling up my basket, I headed for the checkout line. But oh no! There was a huge line at every checkout counter. I considered abandoning my mission all together and making a run for it, but then I remembered how hungry I was. I decided to risk it and picked the line with the little old lady, figuring if anyone smelled anything, it would be blamed on her Depends.
Then you came along and got in line behind me.

Of course you had to be the cutest girl I’d seen in weeks and this would have been the perfect opportunity to pick you up had I not just soiled myself. And of course I was wearing the pair of Diesel jeans that make my ass look great: except at this moment the tight rear end was totally working against me because I had a load in my shorts! We made eye contact and you grinned. You thought I was cute too. For a brief second I thought maybe you knew (and understood). You found my awkward predicament funny and strangely charming in a childish sort of way.

But you didn’t.

The smell hit you too. By this time the checkout lady was scanning my items across the counter and the little old lady was gone. You knew I was the source of the stench. Then the checkout lady didn’t know the price of a bulb of fennel I was buying and had to do a price check. You bore the smell for even longer. I’m sorry. Thank you for not saying anything. I totally understand why you just couldn’t take it anymore and pretended you forgot something on your shopping list as you hurried out of line. I don’t usually pinch loaves in my pants. I’m actually really cool. If you want to go for coffee some time and try this encounter again, please hit me up.
-the guy who shit his pants at Ralphs

Blogs are like poetry for nerds… without the obligatory rhyming scheme, of course. I don’t mean in the sense that it’s a modern take on an existing written art form. I’m referring to the fact that most of them are written by 13 year old girls or really douchey guys trying to impress 13 year old girls. However, I’m not 13, and at my age, picking up a 13 year old girl involves MySpace and a substantial amount of jail time, so instead, I’ll tell little stories and/or rant randomly. So without further ado… let me tell you about the time I shit my pants. I was working late one night, and a bunch of us decided to go out to dinner afterwards. Someone suggested this little pseudo-Mexican/Italian restaurant he liked, so off we went. Before the food even came, I started to get a “feeling” that William S. Burroughs referred to as a cold punch to the stomach that tells you it’s time for a trip to the men’s room. I also started to feel just a tiny bit nauseous. Without going into detail, I made doodie! So, feeling better, I returned to my seat and ate my food. My Mexican food. We finished up, paid the bill, and I got in my car to start my one hour drive home. About 15 minutes into it, that aforementioned “icy fist” started beating the living hell out of me. I was roughly 15 minutes from work, and decided my chances were much better of making it back there, rather than trekking all the way home. As I’m driving, it’s becoming increasingly more difficult to keep the brown beasts at bay. In order to maintain control, I straightened my legs out and arched my back so that, by the time I pulled into the parking lot, my ass cheeks were squeezed together so tightly, that I was not even touching the seat of the car. Now I was faced with a dilemma. How the FUCK am I going to get out of the car without releasing the air-tight lock currently created by my ass cheeks? A little voice of reason chimed up in the back up my head. The little voice simply said “You’re not. You’re going to shit your pants”… and so it was, with no other option, and the beasts pounding away at the door… I sat back down in my seat, felt a gust of hot air go up the back of my shirt, and shit myself. At age 27. In a suit. My brain quickly moved onto my next problem. I had a 45 minute drive home, pants full of my own feces, and a girlfriend I didn’t want to explain this evening to. It was then that I remembered my friend’s apartment just down the road. He was away for the entire week, I had the key to his place, oh yeah… and a pant load of shit. I managed to drive there with most of my ass off the seat, got out, and managed to keep ALL of my ex-dinner inside my underwear (but I held my pant legs tight just in case). I made it to the apartment, then to the bathroom. I was home free! I pulled down my pants, went to sit down… and the contents that were safely contained 2 minutes ago went a bit Chernobyl… on his carpet. After a few hours of cleaning, I made it home to my girlfriend, whom I told about my tummy ache… and nothing else. I kept my pride, her respect, and the keys to my friend’s apartment who still doesn’t know this story to this day. The moral of this story is don’t eat spicy food when you’re already sick, and be careful what asshole friends you give your apartment keys to. They could be shitting on the floor of your apartment, and you’d never even know.

There I was, in the Walmart, when it hit me like a ton of bricks. I had to poop. I was pushing my 2 year old son in the basket, and I could tell from the pungent cloud surrounding him that he’d pooped. The bad thing was that I was about to join him in that predicament. I headed for the bathroom at the rear of the store, Before I got there, Taco Bell’s revenge forced its way into the seat of my panties. I stopped before I completely filled my panties, but now both of us stank. I decided to check out in the Electronics section so that I could avoid standing in line in my condition. As she rung up my package of size 6 Pampers, the sales lady smiles at my son and said, smells like someone needs a change. I just nodded and said, someone sure does.Perf

Once my little sister was outside playing with her friend. When her friend needed to go to the toilet, my sister told her go into our house.She headed to our house but instead she went around the back and went through the wrong gate, one that leads you into another estate. She ran into an abanded  house and unable to find an operating bathroom, ended up taking a big poop on a bench. When my sister went to find her, she discovered her picking the poop up and feeding it to neighborhood dog.

One day I really needed to take a shit but someone was in the toilet. I tried to wait but i needing to go even more, so i ran back to my room and shut the door.  I found a big bag off crisps, so i threw the crisps out the window, and went in the bag,
It felt so good, but then my friend came in and asked me what the smell was and then asked why I had his crisps. He grabbed the bag from my hand, and peered inside…. he still wont look me in the eye.

xThis is hands down, the most embarrassing thing I have ever endured, and not one single person knows about it.

I was in one of my first classes in middle school suffering with a stomach ache from hell…so bad that on my way out, I crapped myself and a shit log rolled down my pant leg and onto the classroom floor - shockingly no one appeared to notice. It all happened so quickly, I almost didn’t even realized what had happened myself. I panicked and rushed to the restroom to clean myself up, leaving the turd on the floor.

What happened next, I only know from rumor. This incident occurred when I was in 7th grade. I am now a college senior and people STILL talk to me about it, oblivious to the fact that I was the culprit. Apparently, my teacher walked into the classroom during the next class, thought it was an enormous tootsie roll, kicked it, and upon seeing it smush, ran out of the classroom to barf.

My boyfriend just told me the story and after I finished faking the “Oh that’s gross! Who would do that?” He said “Haha, you’re just jealous you didn’t do it!”

If only he knew…..

Well it all started when I was getting ready to go to my girlfriends house-I had terrible stomach pains but I thought that they would pass…BIG MISTAKE. It was a 2 hour drive to her house and I could feel the poo building up inside me. I was about half way there when it hit me, I hadn’t been to the toilet for several days and suddenly the 4-day poop came out. It wasn’t diarrhea it was just a massive firm poop. I carried on driving and I realised that it didn’t actually smell so I carried on towards my girlfriends house…ANOTHER BIG MISTAKE.I got there and we talked for a bit, all the while I had this warm log of poop in my tight panties. This would have been okay if my girlfriend hadn’t proceded to jump on me and rip off my jeans and pants spraying the warm poo everywhere.
I was so embarrassed that I just picked up the log of poop and my clothes and sprinted to the car.
Suprisingly, however, we are still going out after I explained the incident in full to her. Turns out that she has done the same thing many times before

The four of us agreed to meet at the Shoney’s in Hardeeville, South Carolina, for breakfast before we all loaded into one van to drive to Charleston for a golf tournament. We played that benefit tournament every year and we always did it the same way.

I ate scrambled eggs smothered in mushrooms. I always ate scrambled eggs smothered in mushrooms at that restaurant. The breakfast was good. I even went back for seconds from the breakfast bar.

We teed of and I felt fine. I was playing well. We played 11 holes and I was beginning to feel a slight Gut Rumble. On the 12th hole, I sunk a crucial birdie putt and leaned over to pick the ball out of the hole. That’s when it hit me. I had to GO! I had to go RIGHT THEN!

I started toward some azaleia bushes off the green, broke into a run when I became really desperate, but I never made it. I puckered my butt-cheeks as tightly as I could, but it was no use. My pucker-valve failed on me and I shit all over myself.

It wasn’t like laying a keilbasa sausage in the old hip pocket. It was more like having a couple of cans of Hormel Chili spraying down your pants legs so hard that it ricocheted off the ground and sprayed back UP your pants legs. It was disgusting.

Luckily for me, I was wearing black pants and the country club had a shower in the locker room. My partner, holding his nose the entire way and laughing his ass off, drove me back to the clubhouse. I climbed into the shower with all my clothes on except my shirt (See? I really don’t like to wear shirts!). I had shit in my golf shoes. I threw my socks and underwear away.

I cleaned up and went back out on the course, wet as a drowned duck, to finish the round. I birdied the next hole, then won the Long Drive contest with a fluke shot on the hole after that. The ball bounced off the back lip of a sand trap, shot like a bullet from a rifle, hit the cart path three times, and rolled out into the fairway 50 yards ahead of anyone else.

My partner suggested that I should shit my pants more often. It seemed to bring out the best in me. He may have been right. I also won the Closest to the Pin prize on the last par three I played. I birdied that hole, too.

Now, I ask you. How many women would tell THAT story on themselves?

Here’s the story transcribed
I shit my pants last night
I did
went out and had a great meal
just a great fuckin meal
I had to go to the bathroom so bad in the car
I’m going travel hurry up I gotta shit
and I had, just fuckin shit in my pants

I’m good uh, twice a year for that
when was the last time you shit your pants
been a while?
“yeah, it’s been a long time”
I was in vegas a couple years ago
this is an honest to god true story
staying at the bellagio
and went over to the mirage for dinner
and met some friends of mine over there
went to cocomos
a great little steak house
the guy brings out some fresh crab legs and says
“these just came in I gotta give ‘em to you guys”
brings a set and I’m eatin ‘em
then we go play..gamble a little bit
had a tee time early in the morning
so I said, ‘look, I gotta get going’
I’m walkin back to the hotel and I get three quarters of the way out of the lobby
all the sudden I go, ‘aww fuck!’
and I’m standing here like this
I got my butt pinched like this so fuckin, I’m fucked, I can’t move
all the sudden, you know, it felt alright
I went just like this and (he makes the sound of opening flood gates)
water … I had food poisoning from the crabs
take off my leather jacket
tied it around my waist
and I’m just standing there
and it’s just running down my leg
I got jeans on
black bucks, no socks
and I just start fuckin walking
and every time I’m walk, somethings coming out
it’s water
just straight fuckin water
then, to show you how sick I was
then I’m standing outside and make a call on my cell phone
I call a guy
I said larry you’re not gonna believe this
I’m standing outside the lobby of the bellagio
I can’t move, I got shit everywhere
I got shit all over myself
and larry’s about a 48 waist
so he brings me over a pair of pants and some towels
and he comes over, and meets me, I tell him where I’m standing
he finds the closest bathroom
when you go up the escalator and go up the fuckin…I can’t get in the fuckin elevator
it’s twelve o’clock at night
he goes in and finds the closest bathroom in the lobby of the hotel
and then I get in the escalator
and he kinda pretends like he drops something
so no one gets behind me
he tells me where it is and he goes in there
goes and gets the towel all wet for me
throws it over the fuckin stall
I take off all my fuckin clothes, just wipe off
leave my shoes, my pants, everything, right there
the towels just right there in the stall
and I’m walking barefoot, with my shirt and with his pants that are a 48 waist
through the lobby like this (as he acts like he’s holding his pants up) at midnight
got up in the morning and took the most perfect double tapered shit I’ve ever had in my life
…
true story
…
who’s the pitchers in this game?