Wednesday, October 8, 2008
Anyways, Monday morning I found myself in front of the bathroom's entrance. Half shivering from the weekend's excess and half convulsing from the repressed bowels that were about to explode their fury, I glanced at the brown stains smeared in the carpet. "Must be mud," I yelled as loud as I could to myself so i could hear my voice echo through the empty Monday morning halls.
My intentions clear, I was eager to shit and I believe the toilet was eager to have me shit in her. My poo was furious and fast and I sat around to contemplate the coming week.
10 minutes later...
2 maintenance workers walk in...
"Yup, that's shit all over the ground."
"We're gonna have to notify janitorial to get that cleaned up."
I quietly peek my head out of the stall. Several shades of brown shit are smeared all over the tile. Light shades of brown fill the grout crevices. I immediately check the soles of my shoes. Thank god! nothing there. However, some poor soul tracked it within a 10 ft radius of the bathroom.
My theory is that some dude came into the office to work over the weekend. His wife made him a greasy breakfast which in turn, he barely digested and raced to the bathroom to shit out as held it for a very long car ride in his new Lexus. Half naked lying on the stall floor, he begins to crawl to the sink. Delerious from passing out from the intense bowel movement, he continues to shit himself and it plops all over the floor. He stands up, cleans himself off and walks to office tracking the shit everywhere on the way. Promptly, he types his resignation letter and leaves it with HR. Hr mistakes the presents from departed employee X as chocolate. The cycle starts over, only this time it's vomit.
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
Because god hates my guts, this will happen to me at work. It is quite infrequent, but nonetheless a gigantic burden to unleash in a public restroom. I don't know about some of you readers (it's in the thousands now!) but I don't want anybody to hear me take a liquid crap. I don't know if it's a masculine thing but I always want my neighbor in the next stall to hear a healthy splash from well rounded, solid turd. I hold this philosphy dear to my heart and it surprises me how frequently i hear so many co-workers commit nasty acts of diarrhea with no remorse for their audience (I know about flushing the toilet while you unleash, it doesn't work, I still hear that wet fart and stream of chunky water).
When my sphincter spasms alerting me to my liquid burden. I clench my butt cheeks and head to the most solitary bathroom to immediately handle my shit. Occasionally, even the most solitary places have frequent visitors and handling my shit becomes an exercise in strength, endurance and mental anguish.
Most people would unleash and I'm pretty sure it's a generational thing or it could be an age to weak anus-muscle ratio. Nonetheless, I hold it when others are present and proceed to stay in a position similar to the Karate Kid's flying crane kick, slightly hovering above the toilet, teeth grinding and sweat dripping from my brow. The mental concentration required to hold diarrhea is on a metaphysical plane that likens it to transcendental meditation or a concept beyond contemporary doctrine.
Then release. It's funny, it all comes out in one giant explosion with not very much follow up. Then a laborious wipe and a long hand wash and it's back to business as usual.
Friday, September 5, 2008
The poo was fast to leave and consisted of one solid piece. It was light brown, the color of efficiency and hope. Like sex, i stuck around the toilet for a while to really meditate on the euphoria surging to all parts of my body. This was a splendid poo, in fact this may have been a poop to be marveled.
The product wasn't big, nor an example of perfection; but the actual process, the very act of pushing the poo through my anus lips was the true marvel to behold. The abundant beauty in life surely warms the most frigid souls. Why does aggression, despair and greed exist against a backdrop of so much splendor? If man has created god, then surely we are capable of grander achievements.
Upon my return to my desk, I grab another cup of coffee. I must relive this miracle again and again. The magnificence of man will surely surpass his blunders.
Thursday, September 4, 2008
I have a friend who drew me this picture. Only in AMERICA, that's what I say! I'm pretty sure I'm the only one who says that?
Today was bagel day. Good times, but there were no tomatoes and it's tomato season! Bagel day without tomatoes is shit day, god damn Holocaust, shit day!
Speaking of shit. I took one today. It was about an hour ago and it was stubborn. After about 15 minutes I had to give up and just wipe it all out. That process took about 5 minutes and another 5 minutes to wash the stench from my finger tips.
I'm smelling my fingertips now and the smell lingers.
Friday, August 29, 2008
One coworker specifically has captivated me with his complete disregard for cleanliness and poop etiquette. Now, i can write a billion blogs on what I have observed him accomplish fecally, but what I observed today raises general questions on the restroom as a communal space and what taking responsibility for your poo entails.
Today, I rushed into the bathroom stall to see a familiar site. Brown streaks smeared in the upper-most reaches of the toilet bowl. I'm talking just under the seat. A place where no water travels and once it gets dirty, it stays dirty until a little elbow grease can take care of it.
First off, the smear was so high up there are only three ways it could have gotten there:
1.) He practices yoga when he poops (Sun Salutation) and his asshole points skywards, offering his waste to the gods.
2.) He shits so strongly that it richochets off the water and bounces right back to wear it came from. I can't imagine what the wipe is like.
3.) He has a weak sphincter resulting in weak precision and wide poo trajectory.
Now, this a very fundamental part of poop etiquette that I have discussed before. You need to stick around after the wipe and flush to see what sort of damage you have done. Then you need to complete damage control. It's kind of Similar to the nature-aware mentality that states, "leave the camp-site cleaner then how you found it."
Seeing these hard to reach streaks of poo do not anger me as much as the terrible things I observe on a daily basis (i.e. the fools that have to pee in the stall toilet, but don't lift the seat or wipe the seat, leaving the beads of urine on the seat for the more stall-entitled poopers to either sit on or clean up). I think these streaks are represent a larger problem of the poorly designed American public restroom. Why are we not offered the tools to get at these hard to reach streaks? Why are we not offered a toilet that is totally self cleaning? If there was anything in the world that should be self cleaning, it should be a public toilet. I swear, considering the lack of poo etiquette in this country, we are only a few steps away from having all public restroom rights taken away. It's too much work to keep clean and current restrooms are not designed to handle all the messy people out in the world.
I was in Germany a few years back (7 years ago). Got dinner at a gas station (USA! USA!) and used their bathroom. The fucking toilet seat was self-cleaning. My god, we are so far behind. It's this type of sweeping innovation that needs to occur in our restroom facilities.
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
Wipe was heavy like cream cheese spread across a bagel. Or was it like taking heavy cream cheese off a bagel? You decide.
Second wipe triggers another log. I question my ability to judge my bowels. They are tricky monkeys mischievously chewing gobs of banana. They punch each other's cheeks and laugh maniacally with each explosion of banana protein. Only when my body feels empty do i know my time on the throne is complete.
Second wipe, is still thick with my leavings. Several more deep wipes irritate my tender hole. I finish, body empty, toilet paper gone. Thick chocolate streaks decorate the bowl. Thick fumes decorate the air and hangs stagnant and rotten like dead moss on a willow tree. The smell tickles my nostrils and trigger a nose bleed. Blood trickles from my nostril and beads of sweat roll down my cheeks. One last wipe with tiny scraps for certainty's sake. Blood there too. Under my heavy breath, i vow to control these bowels once and for all.
Monday, August 4, 2008
What seemed like a large load of waste turned out to be about 20 little pieces of poop. It looked similar to a Spaetzle dish, the delightful German pasta that makes a food lover's mouth water.
Some floated, but most sat at the bottom. Subsequent poops have yielded the same little guys. Must eat a full meal so i can beef up the waste.
Goal: Drink several cups of coffee and attempt a hearty poo by 10:30 AM this morning
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
A few years ago a friend of mine complained of a college roommate who wiped his ass then threw the toilet paper in the garbage. He was justifiably disgusted by this practice, as I'm sure much of population is, because most people throw that used toilet paper in the toilet and flush it down. Despite always flushing toilet paper down, soon after hearing the story, I found myself contemplating a used piece of toilet paper. I glanced at the toilet and I glanced at the trash can. Toilet. Trash can. I dropped it in the trash can. What could be the harm?
When i was young, like around 4 years old. I experimented with wiping procedures a bit. I remember throwing the toilet paper in the trash can a few times. Also, I remember being reprimanded by my mother for wiping with a wash cloth. Sometimes, I'd save pooing for right before bath time and then wipe my bum on the bottom of the tub. It's gross, I know, but it was accepted during these experimental times. 4 and 5 year olds are learning and developing their own bathroom etiquette and I eventually assimilated to the norm.
So i had a break down in assimilation, or a digression in maturity when i threw that piece of toilet paper in the trash can. But I wasn't the only one using the bathroom. At the time, I was living with my cousin, who was also privy to the story of the TP garbage can dilemma my friend presented. The next day, I noticed a line of ants converging on the trash can. I looked in and saw the used piece of toilet paper covered in ants. My cousin also saw the ants:
"You see all the ants in the bathroom?"
"Yes," I replied hesitantly.
"See that they're in the garbage can?"
"Huh, weird. I guess I'll take out the trash."
The incident was left at that, but I'm pretty sure my cousin saw the item that the ants were so interested in devouring. Thankfully, she understood my fascination with exploring new modes of living and existing. She new i liked to change things up. However, i found out why some things are just meant to be accepted as status quo.
Monday, July 28, 2008
The toilet seat is cold, the paper seat cover sticks to my ass and the bowl does little to contain the smell of various digested meats and vegetables. My poo is like molasses, thick and slow to leave the bottle. I cannot help but urinate; wetting the paper seat cover, pieces cling to my penis. Wiping is torture and my butt hole quivers under the stress.
I flush. Slowly pull my pants and underwear back up, and question whether I have even finished pooping. I quietly return to my desk, unaccomplished, tail between my legs, or is it a piece of fecal matter? There is no triumph in the men's room today.
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
Friday, April 25, 2008
Friday, April 11, 2008
The poo was quick to leave, a 20 second ordeal that released a sour, intoxicating smell. This indeed was a hangover poo.
A small portion was stubborn and would not leave without a little coaxing from some toilet paper. This triggered the rest to vacate. Wiping was a laborious chore to say the least.
At this point, occupant in adjacent stall cannon-blasted an echoey fart into his porcelain bowl - no time to critique color and size of hangover triumph - HAD TO LEAVE WITH HASTE.
Wednesday, April 9, 2008
What's up dudes? Are men incapable of taking a shit and not smearing it all over a bathroom stall? Is there some sort of primordial instinct for messyness triggered in men when they feel the lips of their ass hole ripple and dance against a brown behemoth? I can't be the only guy blessed with a precision accented butt hole.
I don't work with nincompoops either. Some of these men who seemingly hover over the toilet and shit on the seat charge $400-$500/hour for their services. If only the clients knew their shitting etiquette, then they couldn't demand such high prices. Because doesn't it always come down to our shitting etiquette?
One last thing, am i the only one that sticks around to make sure that my business goes down when i flush? We can't all be so naive to assume that one flush is all it takes. For example: Just this morning, a previous poo tenant of the handicap stall must've drank bean and spinach smoothies for dinner because he stained the toilet water a dark yellow and left several floating mucus membranes for me to flush. Seriously, you thought a liquid mess like that was gonna go away in one flush ? COME ON!
Monday, April 7, 2008
So in honor of the approaching summer, "life's for living, that's out philosophy."
Feel free to sing along, this is my new karaoke song
This song reminds me of Sam Cooke's "chain gang," I loved it when i was a kid. Wish i could figure out how to post it but if you go to www.Last.fm and search "sam cooke" you can listen to it there.
Friday, April 4, 2008
The big handicapped stall was occupied, I took the smaller stall.
It was a fast poo - no more than 45 seconds to complete - It was not a clean break, so wiping was a mild chore.
Peeled back dry end of toilet seat cover, sitting heavy in the hole was a dark-brown coil of chocolate.
I like the way my hair looks today.
Thursday, April 3, 2008
60 minutes later I began touching cloth (prairie doggin' hard)
My poo was immense, quick to leave the body, and slightly grayed (possibly a result of high quantity wine consumption and a late bedtime last night?)
The wipe was clean and hardly labored.
It will be a good day.
A couple days ago I watched RED DAWN. I can't believe I have never seen this movie. It's an amazing source of entertainment and I can't understand why it's not a pillar of prominent pop culture like other 80's films (i.e. Breakfast Club, Sixteen Candles, Ferris Bueller). The cast is a crazy list of the 80's best; Patrick Swayze, Charlie Sheen, Leah Thompson (Michael J. Fox's love interest in Back to the Future), Ferris Bueller's sister, the prophet from Big Love. Is it me? Was i just totally oblivious to this movie my whole life?
The premise of RED DAWN is simple: The cold war has erupted in World War III with USSR and Cuba invading USA. USA seems oddly unprepared and some high school kids take matters into their own hands by taking up arms and killing lots of communists. See, simple.
Wikipedia: At one time, Red Dawn was considered the most violent film by the Guinness Book of Records and the The National Coalition on Television Violence, with a rate of 134 acts of violence per hour, or 2.23 per minute.
Eh, it's not that violent, and it's certainly not gorey violent.
The beginning of the movie is best. Patrick Swayze drops his friends off at school and parachuting troops fall from the sky. The teacher goes outside to investigate....
That teacher was really stupid.
I never liked War Games, another cold war 80's movie that is extremely boring with no action. RED DAWN has a whole lot of action. Pretty, Pretty, Pretty good. Pretty good. I recommend all you American Heros go rent this now! If not for yourself, rent it for Patrick Swayze, poor hero has pancreatic cancer!
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
But What Is Brian Thinking?
Well since this blog seems to be about anything, let me tell you about my weekend:
It was all around uneventful. Jack had birthday party at a restaurant (it's my belief that birthday parties belong in houses) and it was delightful. Jack gave the restaurant 3 stars on yelp. Was it deserving? Only god knows for sure, but i'd probably give it 4 stars because it is what it is and GOD would want it that way.
I've decided to put a signature mark on my email, so those recipients in my life will know the real me. What's your thought on email signatures? I think it's a neat idea but i'd rather put an html image tag in there and have a funny picture be my signature:
...which you can't do in gmail.
Went to Santa Rosa on Saturday...
it was boring. There is something about Santa Rosa being fun when friends are in town, but when it's just you and hanging out in your parent's house, it can be pretty boring. So i was thinking of starting a business where you can rent a group of friends to hang out with in your hometown. I'll start in Santa Rosa, but perhaps the idea can take off nationally. Next stop Rohnert Park, Windsor and potentially Fulton.
Sunday, Dolores Park. What a cluster fuck of my generation. I don't think my generation will bring much change to society.
Hey look everyone, Jack is a gay rod:
Friday, March 21, 2008
My mom says shit like that all the time and i've figured out when to use the phrase, but i'm left clueless as to what it actually means.
"I didn't want to upset your apple cart"
My mom says this when she sarcastically implies that she cares about my complaining.
Kill: Mom, why are we inviting those nazis to dinner?
Mom: Oh, i'm so sorry i did that, i forgot how important every dinner is for you, "I didn't want to upset your apple cart."
Now, my mom could be saying something totally different and my fucked up four year old mind translated it this way and has stuck that way ever since. Or it could be that everyone can plainly see the apple cart is a symbol of my subconscious desires and ego and all that psycho babble and is metaphorically represented through simple things that common folk can understand: apple carts.
Here is a reference to the saying...i think
My dad also does something similar, but i am positive it's not part of common culture
When my mom says something nagging to my father he'll mock her by squawking like a parrot, whistling like a parrot and repeating the same thing.
Mom: "Jesse, it's been months since you've cleaned the garage."
Dad: " Jesss, it's been months since you've cleaned the garage, RRRARRRR, TWEET TWEET,"
He'll also flap his arms like wings to make his point.
What does this really mean? I get that it's mocking in nature, but essentially he is calling my mom a parrot? Are parrots nagging creatures? Not really. It might be that my dad feels like a "pet" that has to perform tricks for my mom. That makes a little sense. Hmmm, maybe i just figured this one out.
There are a ton other phrases that i can't think of, but i'm sure there are some you can think of
Thursday, March 20, 2008
Today is bagel Thursday at my work. I had a raisin bagel with reduced fat plain cream cheese. I only had a $20 bill in my wallet so i did not spend the $1.25 on orange juice. Coffee is free, so i drank that and i'm getting ready to poo.
Speaking of poo, i am getting back on my "pooing at work in the morning schedule." I have trained myself to poo only at work and not waste precious leisure time at home pooing in my toilet there. Of course on weekends i like to poo at home. Making the trip to work merely to poo there on a saturday morning sounds like a burden and silly ninnery.
Anyways, couple of links of interest. Well just one for now:
FANTASTIC PLANET (WIKIPEDIA LINK)
awesome animation from the 1970's
It was a collaboration between French and Czechoslovakian animators. It's psychedelic, sexual and violent. The music is amazing, and the animation is very still, not too kinetic, possessing qualities a future flash animator like myself can study. The music is awesome! Best of all, the movie is available in 9 parts on YouTube.
I'll assume a hero like you will know how to fish for the other 8 parts. Let me know if you want the soundtrack.
Friday, March 7, 2008
I like this one:
and this one:
The weekend will be sweet with the juices that runneth from the loin of GOD.