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10-13-2011, 08:50 AM
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#1 | | In RS I Trust
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| One Bad But Good Dinner
This is a oldie but a great one so I had to post it. If you need a laugh just read it  Quote:
Ok first I want to say is that I know that there is a lot of embellishment that occurs on this site and I am aware that a small number of things are perhaps sheer fabrication, but I have a story to tell that is the absolute truth, And fuck it took me ages to write hopefully I got my whole experence tonight explained
Funniest damn thing that has ever happened to me. A couple of weeks ago we decided to cruise out to Dean's Steakhouse for dinner. It was a
Wednesday night which means that macaroni & beef was on the hot bar, indeed the only night of the week that it is served.
Wednesday night is also kid's night at Dean's, complete with Dino the Dragon wandering from table to table entertaining the little bastards in his giant green suit.
It may seem that the events about to be told have little connection to
those two circumstances, but all will be clear in a moment.
We went through the line and placed our orders for the all-you-can-eat hot bar then sat down as far away from the front of the restaurant as possible in order to keep the density of kids down a bit. Then I started my move to the hot bar. Plate after plate of macaroni and beef were consumed that evening, I tell you -- in all, four heaping plates of the pseudo-Italian ambrosia were shoved into my belly. I was sated.
Perhaps a bit too much, however. I had not really been feeling well all day, what with a bit of gas and such. By the time I had eaten four overwhelming plates of , I was in real trouble.
There was so much pressure on my diaphragm that I was having trouble breathing.
At the same time, the downward pressure was building. At first, I thought it was only gas which could have been passed in little puffs and squeaks right at the table without too much concern.
Unfortunately, that was not to be.
After a minute or so it was clear that I was dealing with explosive
diarrhea. It's amazing how grease can make its way through your intestines far faster than the which spawned the grease to begin with, but I digress...
I got up from the table and made my way to the bathroom. Upon entering, I saw two sinks immediately inside the door, two urinals just to the right of the sinks, and two toilet stalls against the back wall.
One of them was a handicapped bathroom. Now, normally I would have gone to the handicapped stall since I like to stretch out a bit when I take a good shit, but in this case, the door lock was broken and the only thing I hate worse than my girlfriend nagging me to stop drinking so much is having someone walk in on me while I am taking a shit.
I went to the normal stall.
In retrospect, I probably should have gone to the large, handicapped stall even though the door would not lock because that bit of time lost in making the stall switch proved to be a bit too long under the
circumstances. By the time I had walked into the regular stall, the pressure on my ass was reaching Biblical proportions.
I began "The Move."
For the women and 'young men' who may be reading this, let me take a moment to explain "The Move."
Men know exactly what their bowels are up to at any given second, and when the time comes to empty the cache, a sequence of physiological events occur that can not be stopped under any circumstances. There is a move men make that involves simultaneously approaching the toilet, beginning the body turn to position ones ass towards the toilet, hooking ones fingers into ones waistline, and pulling down the pants while beginning the squat at the same time.
It is a very fluid motion that, when performed properly, results in the flawless expulsion of shit at the exact same second that ones ass is properly placed on the toilet seat. Done properly, it even assures that your schlong is properly inserted into the front rim of the toilet in the event that the piss stream lets loose at the same time; it is truly a picture of coordination rivaling that of a skilled figure skater.
I was about half-way into "The Move" when I looked down at the floor and saw a pile of vomit that had been previously expelled by one of those little bastards attending kids night; it was mounded up in the corner so I did not notice it when I had first walked into the stall.
Normally, I would not have been bothered by such a thing, but I had eaten so much and the pressure upward was so intense, that I hit a rarely experienced gag reflex. So once that reflex started, combined with the intense pressure upward caused by the bloated stomach.. four plates of macaroni and beef started coming up for a rematch.
What happened next was so quick that the exact sequence of events are a bit fuzzy, but I will try to reconstruct them as best I can.
In that moment of impending projectile vomiting, my attention was diverted from the goings-on at the other end.
To put a freeze frame on the situation, I was half crouched down to the toilet, pants pulled down to my knees, with a load of vomit coming up my esophagus. Now, most of you know that vomiting takes precidence over shit no matter what is about to come slamming out of your ass. It is apparently an evolutionary thing since shitting will not kill you, but vomiting takes a presence of mind to accomplish so that you do not aspirate any into the bronchial tubes and perhaps choke to death. My attention was thus diverted.
At that very split second, my ass exploded in what can only be described as a wake... you know, as in a newspaper headline along the lines of "30,000 Killed in Wake of Typhoon Nancy" or something similar. In what seemed to be most suitably measured in cubic feet, an enormous plug of shit the consistancy of thick mud with embedded pockets of greasy liquid came flying out of my ass. Oh but remember, I was only half-way down on the toilet at that moment. The shit wave was of such force and of just such an angle in relation to the back curve of the toilet seat that it ricocheted off the back of the seat and slammed into the wall at an angle of incidence equal to the angle at which it initally hit the toilet seat.
Then I sat down.
Recall that when that event occured, I was already half-way to sitting
anyway and had actually reached the point of no return. I have always
considered myself as relatively stable gravitationally, but when you get beyond a certain point, you're going down no matter how limber you may be. Needless to say, the shit wave, though of considerable force, was not so sufficient so as to completely glance off the toilet seat and deposit itself on the walls. Unlike what you would see when hitting a puddle with a high-pressure water hose; even though you throw water at the puddle, the puddle gets moved and no water is left to re-form a puddle. There was a significant amount of shit remaining on about one-third of the seat rim which I had now just collapsed upon.
Now, back to the vomit...
While all the shitting was going on, the vomit was still on its way up. By the time I had actually collapsed on the toilet, my mouth had filled up with a goodly portion of the macaroni and beef I had just consumed.
OK, so what does the human body instinctively do when vomiting?
One bends over. So I bent over. I was still sitting on the toilet, though.
Therefore, bending over resulted in me placing my head above my now
slightly- opened legs, positioned in between my knees and waist. Also
directly above my pants which were now pulled down to a point just midway between my knees and my ankles. Oh, did I mention that I was wearing not just pants, but sweat pants with elastic on the ankles?
In one mighty push, some three pounds of macaroni and beef, two or three Cokes, and a couple of big, fat yeast Rolls were deposited in my
pants...on the inside...with no ready exit at the bottom down by my feet.
In the next several seconds, there were a handful of farts, a couple of turds, and the event ended, yet I was now sitting there with my pants full of vomit, my back covered in shit that had bounced off the toilet, spattered on three ceramic-tiled walls to a height of about five feet, and still had enough force to come back at me, covering the back of my shirt with droplets of liquid shit. All while thick shit was spread all over my ass in a ring curiously in the shape of a toilet seat.
..... and ... there was no F@#&ING toilet paper!!
What could I do but laugh. I must have sounded like a complete maniac to the guy who then wandered into the bathroom. He actually asked if I was "OK" since I was laughing so hard I must have sounded like I was crying hysterically. I calmed down just enough to ask him if he would get the manager, and told him to have the manager bring some toilet paper. When the manager walked in, he brought the toilet paper with him, but in no way was prepared for what happened next. I simply told him that there was no way I was going to explain what was happening in the stall, but that I needed several wet towels and I needed him to go ask my girlfriend to come help me. I told him where we were sitting and he left.
At that point, I think he was probably assuming that I had pissed just a bit in my pants or something similarly benign.
About two minutes later, my girlfriend came into the bathroom not knowing what was wrong and with a certain amount of concern in her voice. I explained to her (still laughing and having trouble getting out words) that I had a slight accident and needed her help. Knowing that I had experienced some close calls in the past, she probably assumed that I had laid down a small turd or something and just needed to being the car around so we could jet immediately.
Until I asked her, I'm sure she had no idea that she was about to go
across the street and purchase me new underwear, new socks, new pants, a new shirt, and (by that time due to considerable leakage around the elastic ankles thingies) new sneakers.
She then started to laugh herself since I was still laughing. She
began to ask for an explanation as to what had happened but I promised her that I would tell her later, but that I just needed to handle damage control for the time being.
She left.
The manager then came back in with a half-dozen wet towels and a few dry ones. I asked him to also bring a mop and bucket upon which he assured me that they would clean up anything that needed to be cleaned.
Well without giving him specific details, I explained that what was going on in that stall that night was far in excess of what I would expect anyone to deal with, what with most of the folks working at the restaurant making minimum wage or just slightly above.
At that moment, I think it dawned on him exactly the gravity of the
situation. Then that manager went so far above the call of duty that I
will be eternally grateful for his actions. He hooked up a hose.
Fortunately, commercial bathrooms are constructed with tile walls and tile floors and have a drain in the middle of the room in order to make clean up easy. Fortunately, I was in a commercial bathroom.
He hooked up the hose to the spigot located under the sink as I began
cleaning myself up with the wet towels. Just as I was finishing, my girlfriend got back with the new clothes and passed them into the stall, whereupon I stuffed the previously worn clothing into the plastic bag that came from the store, handing the bag back to her. I finished cleaning myself off and carefully put on my new clothes, still stuck in the stall since I figured that it would be in bad taste to go out of the stall to get redressed in the event I happened to be standing there naked and some little bastard kid walked in. At that point, I had only made a mess; I had not yet committed a felony and intend not to anytime soon; or ever; for that matter.
When I finished getting dressed, I picked up the hose and cleaned up the entire stall, washing down the remains toward the drain in the center of the room. I put down the hose and walked out of the bathroom. I had intended to go to the manager and thank him for all he had done, but when I walked out, three of the management staff were there to greet me with a standing ovation. I started laughing so hard that I thought I was going to throw up again, but managed to scurry out to the car where my girlfriend was now waiting to pick me up by the front door.
The upshot of all this is that I strongly recommend eating dinner at Dean's Steak House. They have, by far, the nicest management staff of any restaurant in which I have been to bar-none. The was great too if not .. um .. a bit on the greasy side.
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10-13-2011, 09:24 AM
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#2 | | My homepage has been set to RS
Join Date: Nov 2004 Location: vietnam
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what a stupid story, i got annoyed of the way he wrote it, sounds like a fucking fag.
this clown's nothing but a tucker max wannabe: TuckerMax.com | |
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10-13-2011, 09:34 AM
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#3 | | 14 dolla balla aint got nothing on me!
Join Date: Nov 2007 Location: .
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worst happend to me was sneezing and coughing at the same time
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10-13-2011, 01:16 PM
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#4 | | My bookmarks are Reddit and REVscene, in that order
Join Date: Sep 2006 Location: Vancouver
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I shouldn't have started reading, but since I did, I had the need to finish.
If anybody is reading my comment here, save yourself the grief and just skip the story. Especially if you're on your lunch break.
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10-13-2011, 01:29 PM
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#5 | | (╯°□°）╯聽不到 ╮(°□°╮)
Join Date: May 2004 Location: The Womb
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10-13-2011, 01:32 PM
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#6 | | Summertime Sadness
Join Date: Jun 2011
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__________________ LSF22 (1-0-0) [15-01, 11:33] ICE BOY i'm going to wrap my dick in a crepe and make you suck the filling [[09-10, 11:34] ICE BOY liquor in the front, poker in the rear | |
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10-13-2011, 01:40 PM
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#7 | | I AM
Join Date: Apr 2009 Location: Vancouver
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reading this made me take a shit
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10-13-2011, 01:45 PM
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#8 | | Banned By Establishment
Join Date: Feb 2009 Location: bedroom
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Last edited by dinosaur; 05-20-2013 at 07:12 PM.
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10-13-2011, 02:19 PM
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#9 | | Banned By Establishment
Join Date: Mar 2009 Location: Burnaby
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10-13-2011, 02:59 PM
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#10 | | Diagonally parked in a parallel universe
Join Date: Feb 2011 Location: Vancouver
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10-13-2011, 03:24 PM
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#11 | | Banned (ABWS)
Join Date: Sep 2007 Location: Richmond
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lol that was a pretty funny story :P
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10-13-2011, 03:44 PM
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#12 | | I Will not Admit my Addiction to RS
Join Date: Apr 2010 Location: vancouver
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| Quote:
Originally Posted by boss_clad  what a stupid story, i got annoyed of the way he wrote it, sounds like a fucking fag.
this clown's nothing but a tucker max wannabe: TuckerMax.com | no sense of humour
__________________ Quote:
Originally Posted by penner2k
tilt your head back and using your hand pretend to shake a salt shaker in your mouth... you will notice that it will actually taste like salt in your mouth..
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10-13-2011, 08:10 PM
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#13 | | My homepage has been set to RS
Join Date: Nov 2004 Location: vietnam
Posts: 2,235
Thanked 240 Times in 50 Posts
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Originally Posted by elwell no sense of humour | sorry, stories about some goof taking a huge shit in a toilet is not my idea of humour.
you must be part of the same group of retards that made tom green famous.
but if you're entertained by this shit, then more power to ya, shithead | |
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10-13-2011, 08:29 PM
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#14 | | I contribute to threads in the offtopic forum
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4 plates of pasta
Wears sweatpants to dinner
You know he a fatass Posted via RS Mobile | |
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10-13-2011, 08:42 PM
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#15 | | Even when im right, revscene.net is still right!
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LOLLL!!! wowww
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10-13-2011, 09:09 PM
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#16 | | I Will not Admit my Addiction to RS
Join Date: Apr 2010 Location: vancouver
Posts: 584
Thanked 171 Times in 59 Posts
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| Quote:
Originally Posted by boss_clad sorry, stories about some goof taking a huge shit in a toilet is not my idea of humour.
you must be part of the same group of retards that made tom green famous.
but if you're entertained by this shit, then more power to ya, shithead | no need to be a complete dick about it though, relax a little will you
__________________ Quote:
Originally Posted by penner2k
tilt your head back and using your hand pretend to shake a salt shaker in your mouth... you will notice that it will actually taste like salt in your mouth..
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