Return to NJ

Men,

It has been months, maybe years, since my last post and I apologize for my absence. The art of the smartphone has opened us up to blogging on the go, in particular on the throne.

I am going to return with a few notes about my return to NJ this weekend. Dinner with the family last night consisted of fried calamari, stuffed peppers, and clams for appetizers. Followed by a pork chop stuffed with mozzarella and broccoli rabe. All while throwing back some homemade vino. At this point in the meal I reached a serious decision. Full...yes. However, I almost felt like if I didn't have a dessert and coffee that I wouldn't be able to shit. So I went for it. A tartufo or "bomba" as it's called in Italy and a cup of coffee. Well Men, the decision was a good one.

This morning I woke up, walked the dog, and within 10 minutes I was ready to explode. As I sat on the throne I couldn't help but remember my clutch dessert decision and be thankful.

Moral of the story, know your own stomach. Don't question it, don't fight it, listen to your stomach.

G

The Lingerer

First off, I would like to thank a fellow brother, JB, for the wake up call this morning. I had to get to work by 730 this morning and managed to turn off my alarm in my morning daze. Luckily, lately we have been swapping morning pooping insight and I got the story for the morning around 645 am. An excellent wake up call that saved my ass from being late.

Secondly, this morning I experienced "the restroom lingerer". Below our offices is the first floor bathroom, which contains only one shitter. I fear going down there every morning as I hold back the turtle trying to poke his head out that someone will be on my thrown I have grown to love at work. This morning, like most days, it was early enough that the can was free. I sat down to do the business as I here the bathroom door open. To let the guy know I was in there I throw out the basic fake "cough cough". Almost an alert to someone that you are there so they dont try busting in the door. Well the alert didn't work and he went for the stall door anyway so I told him I was in there.

I realize shortly after that the guy is lingering outside the stall waiting for me to finish up my dump. I thought, "you know what, this is my time. This is my morning dump and I refuse to be rushed." I figured he would linger for a minute and then leave, but he refused to go. So after a few minutes, yes I take long dumps in the morning, I decided to speak up. I said, "listen man this isn't going to be done anytime soon so you might want to go to another bathroom." Using very poor bathroom etiquette, he chose not to respond, gave out a big pissed off huff, and then left slamming the door behind him.

I went back to playing brickbreaker, finished out a few thoughts, and finished up.

I feel I made the right choice. I figure, I saved him the time of waiting and holding in a shit which we all know sucks and saved him from taking a dump after me which is probably an awful experience and of course does not smell like roses despite what I may tell you.

If you find a lingerer in the bathroom you are shitting in, speak up, let him know what's up, and if he doesn't appreciate it then screw him. Maybe one day he will realize how lucky he was that you spoke up and saved him from the traumatizing experience of taking a dump after you.

Have a great day,

G Money

Great Moments in History

1492- Columbus Sails to the New World

1482- Magellan travels around the world

1804- Lewis and Clark Explore the West

1953- Sir Edmund Hillary Climbs 29,029ft at Mt. Everest

1969- Armstrong and Aldrin land on the moon

2010-JB pinches a massive log 60 feet under the Atlantic Ocean

This weekend friends, was a glorious one. Whilst working (on a boat) I felt the familiar grumblings of the previous nights Ribs and PBR, their trapped souls trying to escape from my underbelly. Now, as a classically trained pirate I am very familiar with the sea, if you are not, I would like to bring you up to speed. Toilets on the high seas are small, on the cramped inside of a rolling boat. The smell of the person who shit before you, mixed with your own brand, mixed with a small closet, mixed with a small bowl, mixed with darkness, mixed with rolling boat- not to sound like a shit snob, but I try to hold it in.

On this day Gents I chose to break free and become one with the Ocean. Instead of the nightmare describe above, I threw on my scuba gear dove to the bottom of the ocean, took off my gear with just the air hose and dropped my draws. Yes folks, I was squatting on the bottom of the Atlantic, junk waving in the current, I felt all of the oceans creatures, all of their energy, their grace, and then I pinched a MASSIVE log. Now men, under the ocean, objects look 25% bigger, it looked like a shit an arm. The beauty of shitting under water is 3 fold: 1) The increased pressure means you barely have to push 2) The increased pressure causes the dookie to stick together an keep its shape 3) The natural current just flushes it away. I wish someone could have been video taking me down there laughing with my pants down as this huge log tumbled across the sandy bottom.

Does this put me on a level with the explorers listed above? Yea, I am a Man, and I shit on the bottom of the ocean.

- JB

Lesson Learned

Gents,

It has been a while since my last post. Through many conversation topics with several of our other followers, I have been able to come up with several topics that I will be sharing in the next few days.

First off, I would like to note that on a wonderful saturday morning this past weekend I was woken up by two picture messages from two fellow Everyday Men. The first of which portrayed a rare form of dump, "THE ICEBERG". A task only few have accomplished since the great ICEBERG of 1787. For those who do not know, it is a log that manages to float above and below the sea level of the toilet. Congrats to you GP on this amazing task.

The second was nothing knew, but still one to mention. JB woke up after a night of drinking and sent me some footage of his sneeze shit. Covering nearly every inch of the can, the sneeze shit can be disastrous on many levels, which brings to my first topic.

The "Sneeze Shit":

After dropping a sneeze shit recently, I stood up to wipe (yes at times I do stand, depends on my mood), and as I finished up I turned around to flush and noticed there was doody on the toilet seat on the back end. I was shocked at first. How did it get there? Was the sneeze snow powerful that it projected doody upwards along with all over the can? I did not know. Then the thoughts kicked in...was I sitting on that doody the whole time? Do I have doody on me from the bounce back effect of the sneeze? As I checked myself I was relieved to see I did not, but I realized I must be aware from now on during a sneeze shit.

Lesson Learned: Do not underestimate the power of a sneeze shit. Doody can go almost anywhere.

The Filthy Wipe:

After confronting JB about this, I was happy to discover I am not the only one who has had this experience. There are some dumps where you know there might not be much for the wipe. Sometimes it is a ghost shit and there is nothing, which is the heavyset mans dream because he doesn't have to bust a sweat during the wipe process. Then there is the Filthy Wipe. This is a result of the shit that is so nasty, and stinky that you know it is going to be the never ending wipe. An all around bad experience and no matter what you do, you never feel like your ass is clean.

Lesson Learned: If you are experience multiple Filthy Wipers then it is highly recommended by the "Council of Everyday Men that Poop" that you purchase either wipes for your home or a mini travel pack to take with you to the office or keep in your car.

G

A Triumphant Meeting

Friends, it had been a while since I have last regaled you with tales of from the porcelain throne, there are many reasons for which I am sure the other creator of this site will tell you. Today I have returned for Miami and I have become re-acquainted with an old friend, when I got back to my apartment late last night I did not think much of it; turned on the TV and went to bed. This morning, however, I had the pleasure of realizing why my apartment was mine. My stomach grumbled with the last few days alcohol fighting back. 2 days full of Duckfarts (Layered shot: Kahlua, Baileys, Crown), Tequila (see left), Tabasco Blood Mary's, and White Russians. My time spent here all came back to me as I rushed to open the window and the blinds and headed for the bowl. Sitting here, right now, I am at peace. It just rained in the 305, I have a moist cool breeze running through my apartment, my window is near my bathroom so I feel that I am outside in the peace dropping logs. I feel incredibly comfortable here, almost a shit zen mode. I am happy.

-JB

A Holiday Feast and Stomach Training

Men,

Happy New Year. I have a feeling the year of 2010 will bring stories of greatness from the contributors of this blog.

We have all been absent for quite some time and we can blame the holidays for that. Now it is time to turn back and step up our games.

I would like to be the first to touch on the holidays and the ridiculous amount of eating that goes on. The following story does not come from christmas eve or christmas...it comes from the day after christmas. With the spirit of the holidays still blooming the day after christmas we decided to continue the festivities with another day of eating. A post holiday relaxation day. Or so it was supposed to be.

Two families, 4 courses, naps, full stomachs, naps, desserts, wine, and naps.

A recap of the day that led to the shitting of pure Adobe Mud Bricks the next morning.

First Course: Antipasto (stuffed artichokes, red peppers, bread, mozzarella, etc.) and Vino

Downtime and more vino.

Second Course: Spaghetti, sausage and meatballs, more bread, and vino

Nap and a massive dump to clear the stomach for the next two courses.

Third Course: Shrimp Scampi, Veal Parm, Chicken Parm, Salad (Always have to be healthy), bread, and more vino

So full you feel the poop bricks building.

Fourth Course: Dessert, including cannolis, cream puffs, and many others and coffee

All that food for 10 people. All home cooked in one day and literally there was enough to feed half the country. That is how it is done my friends.

I tell this story to send a message to all of you out there. You must train your stomach to handle these types of RealMen meals. It would be unfortunate if you could not enjoy such a meal due to a full stomach and or constant pooping. Train yourselves to dump mid-meal in a situation such as this. You dont want to be that guy that sits out a course.

Yes, you may shit a brick te next day, but that brick will be the result of a days worth of eating that you cannot miss out on.

More to come,

G

The Protein Shake

I bet the majority of you know where I'm going with this just from the title. You probably read it and immediately harsh and violent memories entered your mind. Almost every semi-athletic male has gone to the gym before, to get their swell on, and after (and sometimes before) has indulged in a protein shake. Hey if your gonna be breaking your balls in the gym for 2 hours, you mine as well get the most out of your workout (Brady Quinn's workout isn't over until he has one see link). There are many kinds and brands (Fucking Muscle Milk bro!) that are concocted with amino acids and various other nutrients to really maximize your workout and help you out, but there is one side effect noticeably missing from the bottle. I call it "The protein shake shit" (a chill just went down my spine).

Okay here's the situation. Your just getting back in to your workout routine and have not had a protein shake in a long while. So the first time back you figure, oh I've had protein shakes before there wont be any side effects. WRONG! Your next shit is going to be an absolute battlefield, like WWIII. Bombs will fly, pain and explosions are immanent. I am no doctor or scientist so I really don't know why the shake causes such massive intestinal confusion, but trust me it does. There is actually another side effect that is complementary to the PSS, its the PSF (protein shake fart). Their fucking deadly. I've read studies conducted by Uranus University and their have been at least 27 reported girlfriend deaths due to PSF's. God only knows how many more go unreported.

Now I'll tell my most recent encounter with the PSS. So recently I have been getting back to my workout routine after a long break due to injury(aka laziness). So one morning I wake up 5am, slam a protein shake and jump on the PATH to my office gym to get my swell on before work. What a big mistake. It takes around an hour to get to my office and no place to shit in between. Even before I got on the PATH I was already fully percolated and the gas pains were intense. Now I'm hunched over in immense pain and massive sweating like , I know this is going to be bad. As I get closer and closer to my destination the pain comes and goes, but at some points I actually thought I was going to shit all over myself.

Random Poo Facts about Senor Diaz

1. The first time and only time I can remember, although there might be more of me defecating on myself was when I was sick in the 3rd grade. I attempted to do a jumping jack at home and as my arms fell so did everything else out of my bowels. It was a sad day to be my underwear and pants. My friend's a sad day indeed.

2. I like to do the business in the nude sometimes. Yeah, that’s right. I take it back old school. I strip down and begin to use el bano in the nude. It’s relaxing, refreshing, and natural. Judge me I say Judge me.

3. I have shitted every color besides your light ones i.e. pink,purple,turquoise, probably any blue there could have been a blue one but I don’t remember. I have shitted black, various greens, browns, oranges, and red is the scariest trust me. Actually black is pretty scary too but red that is some emotionally scarring shit.
Literally.

4. I believe I have categorized 4 shit types. Regular Razors Edge Slider Water….. Regular goes without saying. Razors Edge is that sharp shit that cuts your booty hole. Slider again goes without saying but I’ll say it... shit slides right out of ya. Water to me is the nasty of the nasties. There’s nothing like shitting plain water or not really plain water but you get the picture.

5. Best for last. As I was having sex with a lady of the evening, I was hitting it from the back and I couldn’t get it up so she ended up blowing me. As I went home I realized that my shirt had been covered in fecal matter. Bitch took a dump on my chest. I just paid for a Cleveland steamer.

Joe College Steps Up His Game

As turkey day break comes to a close, it is necessary to recap the "realmen" in action. The night before thanksgiving brought out the usual old school crowds and finished with the hunt for food...eventually leading to chicken fingers at quick check.

Friday night brought the game to a whole new level. Beginning with vino, followed by a few vodka drinks, JB decided that it was going to be a low key night. Ignoring all concerns for his current heavyset physique, JB decided he wanted a burger. A few beers into the meal, burger devoured so quick he almost lost a thumb, JB looks up after licking his plate clean and says, "lets do this". JB turned into Joe College and his instincts took over. From that point on the night took a turn for the worse/better.

Two bars...whiskey and tequila shots...vodka sodas...beers...saying goodbye to the same girl multiple times and enjoying each one...trip to the diner...answering a random old drunk guys phone..."you want to talk to eddie? oooooo, hold on here he is...hello this is dan glesack"...a person who will remain unknown not finishing his taylor ham egg and cheese sandwich (your better then that), half ride home...second half with the popo's (always good to have connections)...non-stop bullshitting and farting...jersey bagels...extreme dumps caused by the actions of the night...

20 pounds heavier and a liver that has taken a beating...my thanks goes out to our fellow realmen who continue to take things to a whole new level. If it weren't for JB's claim of the week, none of those things would have happened. Well done sir. Hope everyone had a good break. Enjoy the holiday's coming up sooner then later.

Taking Miami By Storm

In the past several days, miami was taken by storm by two men daring too take things well beyond where things should go.

Thursday consisted of sushi, seven bars, getting hustled in pool by a woman and a man in tuxedo shirt, car bombs, tequila shots, fist pumping, poor wingman play, more fist pumping, a very natural woman saying "sing to me" on the dance floor, and late night mcdonalds that tasted like heaven. A great start to what would be an unreal weekend.

Friday consisted of tight calves, dehydration, and a weird early morning all to be forgotten as these two balding studs flew to the bahamas. Shipwrecks, goats in a cinder block park (yeah that actually happened), enough conk to make you never want to say that word again, beach vibrations, reggae music, more conk, loud music that only the guy with superman hearing could hear over, a native of the island who had a wife from jersey, a flight home... all followed by scotch, snake bites, and passing out while you were still awake.

Saturday took things to a whole new level. Surfing on south beach, women hearing things they are not supposed to hear, getting black on the beach, brain freezes and a buzz at wet willies, more beach, a house party, rum punch, the band that rocked the house, a smokin tv reporter "way of your league"...Permi Lounge, couch dancing for an hour, tequila and vodka tonics (really?), fist pumping, more fist pumping, tearing up the dance floor, going to the ghetto side of the party and not feeling welcome and very awkward, shorts in the club, losing your license and debit card, getting made fun of for being from jersey and in true jersey fashion saying "go f yourself", drive home, taco bell, locked out of the house, eating taco bell on the porch, passing out on the couch, waking up to a friend sawing wood on the couch so loud you can't sleep, 8am flight: Priceless.

Living the Dream,

G

Coming to you live from the mens bathroom at gate E5 departing for miami.

The man next to me is currently blasting farts so long and loud that I am beginning to feel uncomfortable and overpowered.

I find myself wondering, could it be a heavyset man producing that kind of fart power? Or is a smaller man who appears weak but packs the shit power of a cow? Maybe its someone we don't even know about. All I know fellas is that its not the size of the man that determines his fart-poop power.

While I attempt to play battle shits with this mystery man, I find I am fighting a losing battle. Will I ever see my opponent,who knows, but a good game of battle shits with a stranger at an airport: priceless.

Happy trails from the airport.
G Money

Taking It on the Road

In the next few days we will be coming to you from beautiful Miami, Florida. It is a rare opportunity for a fellow deucer to take his act on the road and have the ability to bless the throne's of such a place. Keep a look out for new updates and continue posting on the best scenes of all time.

Happy hershey trails,

G

The Bubblies

I find that my colon’s kryptonite is that of the wing variety, from hot to honey. Give me any amount of those delicious little fowls and I am likely to fellate the lot of you. However these little birds pay me back from beyond the grave with Bettlejuice insanity on my rectum. They bestow upon me the little gift known as the bubblies.

One of the most terrifying feelings in the world is the bubblies. You know what I mean. It starts with a small rumble/stomach gargle, then your brow and upper lip start to perspire as if you were just caught cheating on your wife. Like lighting it hits you that this shit is going down quicker than Justin Guarini’s music career.

It started early one October morning around 5am. A night of a wing feast to end all wing feasts had me soundly asleep. Instead of rumbles and gargles, my stomach was at war with itself…300 style. My stomach was hit with an invisible hot knife. Sweat began to bead off my face like a fat kid waiting at the ice cream truck on a hot summer day. I said to myself its nothing…sleep it off. My mind kicked me one more time in a stomach as if to say “Who are you kidding?!”.

I sprang to life, being that I sleep naked I had to find something to cover myself up before making my break to the bathroom. It was a frantic search for shorts and a t shirt. All the while my stomach kept on churning. I raced to the first bathroom only to find it occupied. I cursed the mighty Zeus for that. I felt the onslaught of shit coming quicker then one of my premature ejaculations. I raced to the second bathroom. I barely had time to position my cheeks over the throne as a hot stream of waste slide out my buttock. Pain and sweat was written over my face as I stared at myself in the mirror taking this mighty dump.

As I type this now I tremble for the memories I tried to repress from that morning. It was one of the roughest moments of my life. I got up after barely surviving the rape of my digestive tract. My legs were weak from the fight and stomach hinting at the fact that there might be a second wave. I looked down to see the orange goo that laid in the bowl that could only be describe as gallons of what I could only imagine that Gerber carrot baby food looks like. I flushed and as I watch mounts of liquefied wings go down I was relived.

In close FDR said, “All we have to fear is fear itself.” Ladies and Gentlemen I add to that we also must also fear the bubblies. For like the Koreans, they can strike at any time and any hour.

In honor of the World Series...

In honor of the 27 Time World Champions and our new writers contributing their poo pranks, I would like to add one of my favorite baseball themed poo pranks.

A homerun is awesome, but a home run to the upper deck is that much better, so friends I give you...

The Upper Decker: reserved for assholes and Sox fans

When in a persons house who you may not be the biggest fan of, simply muster up that shit of yours, hold in it for a while, let it bake, you don't want to undercook your masterpiece. Proceed to this poor soul's bathroom, remove the top of his toilet tank, place your feet on the seat and sit on the tank. Proceed to throw your loaf into that sorry son of a bitch's tank, cover and disappear.

Note: if you have the skills to pinch your load half way, it can be beneficial to leave a floater in the bowl to lead the homeowner to believe the awful smell is just your lack of flushing, however when they flush, that stench will not go away until they have to meticulously scrub the inside of their tank and all the equipment held therein.

Men, poo is a way of life for us, and sometimes there are those that deserve to feel it's rath, and for those I say hit em with the Upper Decker.

-JB

Poopy Prank!

Figured I would add this as well. Merc has posted the "poo-hammock", a long time favorite of mine I picked up from my friend from HS who ended up living with me in college as well (not Jorge). Call him Dank-Hawk. He is arguably the person I know with the longest-standing, most genuine appreciation of the hilarity that poop can incite. To this day, i still get pictures of particularly harrowing plops he has taken through text message, which to many is almost a prank in and of itself. However I would like to take a minute to toot my own horn, because poop pranks are not limited to the poo-hammock. A friend of mine from 5 apartements down in college had a girlfriend. And because most broads are completely fucking illogical and do not think about anything intelligently before they act, she decided to adopt a cat. This isn't a terrible idea if you ignore the fact that cats are soft as shit, and owning more than 2 of them is proof of pending clinical insanity (everyone has a local cat-lady who is batshit insane and genuinly believes they are her children), however she decided the best time to adopt would be 48 hours before she left for college, a college in which she was not allowed to keep pets, and a different one from where myself and her BF went. So she adopted the cat, and promptly gave it to my friend to keep while she was 6 hours away. Real fuckin logical. whatever. And let me tell you, this cat was a real piece of shit, and my friend was kind of a homo about it. The problem was, I had to deal with this thing all the time. When i described my house as a party box, i wasn't lying. No furniture, no tv, just pure, unadulterated drinkin', grindin' and fingerin' heaven. So my friends house essentially served as a living room, one occupied by a faggot cat that no one likes and shouldn't have been there in the first place. My solution to get rid of it? Shit pranks.

Answer me this: if your cat started taking huge, man-sized shits in your room, what would you do? stand up to your girlfriend and be like, enough is enough, take this stupid thing back? or maybe go the passive-aggressive route and tell her it "ran away" or got eaten by a badass, half-chocolate lab/half-retarded puppy? I sure hoped so. So I decided to start eating a load of chipotle double-meat and guac and hot salsa burrito's, and unleash hell on the litter box. I'm talking multiple meaty logs or cat-dissapearing dookie. And everyone knew, except for him. for about 5 or 6 months. And i know at least one person who joined in (yet another roommate, what a house!). Now did the cat go away? No, but let me tell you, there is nothing more priceless than seeing a friends face when he realizes he has spent a good part of 5 months sleeping 5 feet from your intentionally-aggressive shit, and been the only one who didn't know about it. So get out there, step your game up, and start poo-prankin' anyone and everyone. But for the love of god, get something more original than "upper-decking" people's toilets. What is this, High School? Thats the bush leagues bro, lock it up.

THERE'S SHIT EVERYWHERE

For any true pop-culture shit conneseur, there are certain scenes that stand out, many of which have already been plopped down onto this sight for your viewing pleasure. This is not one of them, because outside of this 30 second scene, Dumb and Dumberer is arguably the worst sequel to a classic movie ever made. For those of you who wear a helmet to school, the "pop" in pop-culture stands for popular, something this movie will never be. However whenever I watch this scene, I feel all warm and fuzzy. How is this, you ask? Because I really do feel Bob "I stole 17 pairs of Kimmy Gibbler's panties" Sagat's pain. See I went to college, and had roommates. So what you say? First, fuck you smartass. Second, I would like to regail you with the life and times of an esteemed housemate of mine, who we will call "Jorge", to protect his identity(sort of).

What can I say about Jorge...Well he is really good guy. He would probably give you the shirt of his back, if it wasn't that sweet of a shirt, or it wasn't weather-appropriate or something. But he is also a college student, so he likes to drink. Heavily. Big ups to Jorge for that, right? Well, sort of. See freshmen year, he became infamous for going home, going to sleep shitfaced, and then whatever happened after that was a crapshoot (get it?). Normally this consisted of drunk-sleep walking, generally bare ass naked, through this freshmen dorms, sometimes stopping to piss in a water fountain or accidentally get into bed with the wrong person, because we all know doors can be tricky when blackout sleepwalking. However this slowly progressed to worse offenses, which is where I eventually gained a particular affinity for this Dumb and Dumberer clip. See my last two years, I lived in the greatest college partybox/apartment ever concieved, but hygene was certainly a secondary concern as far as the living situation. I can deal with beer on the floor, spitters full of skoal (OHIO!!!!) and even the occasional pile of dogshit in a corner left by my adoring yet retarded puppy I got for 25 bones off of craigslist from a methlab in a trailor park. Seriously. But what I awoke to on this fateful morning crossed the line.

Roll out of bed, try not to shart on whoever was my"companion" for the evening (nothing gets girls in a romantic mood like boxed wine, left over chinese, loud music, and forgetting her name. trust me). Pretty standard. And if you are reading this site, you obviously know that a sunday morning after a hard-charging night is not complete without the obligatory beer-shit. As I left my room, I was greeted by a terrible smell. Pretty standard so far. But this was a little bit different. I figured Brady, my puppy, had probably just drank too much or something, and shit on the stairs again, until I realizes he was still in bed with the afformentioned "companion" (cute, right? the only thing that trumps boxed wine and grinding? a puppy). About to explode, I entered the bathroom, only to see what was almost an exact replica of the setting as Bob Sagat ran into. There was literally shit EVERYWHERE. Walls, floor, ceiling, bathtub, and even on the rod that held up the shower curtain. Only thing i think was sparred was the mirror, and I could be wrong on that. Who would do a thing like this? See if it was a prank, I would actually probably put on a rubber glove and shake whoever did it's hand, but I was curious as to the culprit, that is until I took a look at the shower curtain and bar. Sure enough, there was one of my roomate's clothes, soaking wet, hanging from the bar. Now I know you have to be a whole 'nother level of drunktanious in order to do something like this, but fuck, man! Hide your damn clothes, thats like evidence. I mean a huge fuckin' paper trail. Thats seriously like knocking up some broad one night and using your real name; you just don't do that!

While this has been long and drawn out, I figured THEBRICKSHITHOUSE needs to introduce himself, and to be honest, the majority of my stories revolve around Jorge. See the best part is, he tried to deny it was him that day. And the rest of the week. Now I know you may be saying to yourself "maybe he just jumped in the pool or something, and it really wasn't him". Listen dumb-dick, I need to reiterate that I lived in a slum apartment. Pool? are you kidding me? The thing is, I am actually starting at the end. See this wasn't Jorge's first adventure with shitting, more like his 4th. So you can see how rediculous it is to try and deny his involvement, since he was previously responsible for the only other 3 self-shitting instances I had seen. And while the thought of someone shitting all over themselves is sad, the fact that the only logical explanation for the shit-carnage I witnessed was that Jorge decided to multi task, both shitting and doing the "soldier boy" dance or the electric slide or something at the same time is sadder. and the saddest? you have never witnessed a person truly depressed until they are on their hands and knees, hung over, scrubbing shit off every inch of a room. And with that, I would like to formally introduce to, our readers, "Jorge". You will learn to love him.

A true classic and a situation you never want to find yourself in.

Ever get mad at someone and just want to do this?

Step Brothers