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

Great scene

Probably my number 2 favorite farting scene of all time (GM beat me to Blazing Saddles)

"whachu you think a colonic is? you take your asshole down the carwash?"

HERCULES! HERCULES!

And another classic:

Did you fart?

Keep it going men, add you favorites!

-JB

Best Fart Scenes of All Time

Today from the throne we ask our followers to think long and hard about their favorite fart/shit scenes of all time. Hollywood has created thousands, but only a select few are among some of the greatest ever. There are those you laugh at and those that you rewind and watch again ten times because you laugh so hard. Here is one for thought and one that is a pure classic:

Blazing Saddles Camp Fire Scene

Check it out and please respond to this post with all of your favorites. We will compile a list of the all time greats

and post it in the days to come.

G

The Traveler

Today, I would like to bring to the discussion table an issue that has been facing men since the ice age. To put "the traveler" into perspective I would like to share a story, which i'm sure will hit home for many.

It is Sunday afternoon...you are at a friends place with a bunch of buddies and some ladies. The day is going well...your team is winning...you're talking it up with a fine lady sitting next to you. You try to not to break the seal, but the beer keeps flowing, and eventually you just have to go. After two trips to the pisser, the beer begins shifting from making you have to pee to making you have to fart. Now comes the trouble. You can't fart in the living room. So on your next trip to the bathroom, you figure you will just drop a few air biscuits. Safe, right? Not if "the traveler" is in effect. You take your piss, drop a few silent duds, and things seem great. But then you realize the stench...your personal scent...is traveling around your pants and all the exhaust has not escaped. While everything went well in the bathroom, you begin to think that when you go back out to the couch next to your lady friend and sit down, the remaining exhaust will be released upon impact with the couch.

How to handle this situation? Until someone invents a fan that keeps gas from floating around in the draws and pants and can push it out immediately, here is the best solution i have come up with. Drop it all. When you go to take your piss, drop everything and stand there bare naked while pissing. Yes, you may look like a two year old who just dropped it all to take his first piss, but when you fart, your gas will float freely through the air of the bathroom rather then travel through your pants. Make sure the door is locked...because if someone comes in and sees you taking a piss with your pants and draws wrapped around your ankles some questions might need to be answered.

Watch out for "the traveler".

G

What I think

Pooping is good. Everyone's doin' it!

Pooping can be amusing to adolescents.

Pooping can be musical.

Pooping can be better than sex, when necessary!

Pooping can be intimate fun...I'll not elaborate.

Pooping can be done outdoors on a bright, sunlit day.

Pooping can be revenue generating due the the natural gas factor.

Pooping can be a social event, particularly in a college setting.

Pooping can burn calories, as it may be considered strenuous excersise at times.

Pooping generates smiles in children.

Pooping generates grins in dogs, if you've ever noticed.

"Nincompoop" is a person who is simple, due to their inability to poop.

A Poop Deck is the deck that constitutes the roof of a cabin built over the head

The Battle of the Turtle

Today from our blog we bring you a video about a troubling issue men often face.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NiNZdTSH3-A

It can strike you as you are working out, eating dinner, riding on a bus or in your car, possibly dancing as you try to squeeze out a fart in the crowd where nobody can blame the smell on you. We all have our own methods. Some choose to pinch their cheeks and hold it in. Others will wait until that perfect moment to let out an air biscuit hoping it will be silent and won't be enough to make them shit their pants.

But, sometimes, no matter how hard you try to postpone the turtle head that is trying to poke out, the turtle wins the battle. Panic sets in. "I just shit my pants", you say to yourself. Now...you look around and the hot lady standing next to you doesn't know and neither do the people around you, but you are left with a soiled pair of draws. Here comes the big finish...do you get to a bathroom, ditch the draws, and freeball it the rest of the night? What if your with a lady and you know you're going back to her place?

Do you want her to think you were freeballing it all night at the party? Or do you find the nearest elevator, door, or stairwell and get the hell out of there giving the victory to that damn turtle?!!

Post your opinions and let us know what you would do.

GM

The Golden Outdoor Shitter

A New Coat of Paint Changes the Day

Today is a great day. Yesterday, the roof over my throne was painted. And while I could not use the bathroom all day, it was worth the wait. This morning I woke up to a morning stew brewing hot. I ventured into my newly painted bathroom to drop the kids off at the pool.

Perfection. A fresh coat of paint. Window open and a cool morning breezing coming through the bathroom, I sat down and enjoyed this glorious start to my day.

So on this day, take a look around the area of your home that you owe so much too. A new paint job, perhaps a new toilet seat? Maybe some new TP with a scent? Maybe something we don't even know about.

Long Live the Throne,

G

There's No Place Like Home!

In my first contribution to this blog I would like to broach a subject in which every man must unfortunately encounter in his life, the dump away from his customary throne at home. We all have come to know and love our pooper at home, it's like another family member. We know the personality of our toilet and all of it's little nuances: the smell, the shape, the feel, the height, the flush, etc. It's nice to know, with a relative sense of certainty, if the monster you just dropped will go down; with or without TP, or even at all.

So when we are thrust into a situation where a new toilet has now entered into the mix, we are caught off guard and thrown out of our comfort zone. This is NOT a good feeling by any means. Of course some situations are inherently worse than others and that depends on many factors. For example public restrooms are animal in it of itself, they are as unpredictable as they come, but usually pack enough punch in terms of flush. The beloved port-o-john is another beast, which can range for a pristine beauty to an overused, ugly mess (aka the port-o-johns on the last day of camp). A sweltering day can make even a clean port-o-john unbearable as the temperature doubles in the plastic box, now your drenched in sweat and breathing in fecal fumes. Then you have the friend/girlfriend/other house toilet. As you approach this uncomfortable situation many questions pop into your head. First thing that comes to mind here is flush power. Will this baby pack enough punch to send the monster into the bowels of hell? Is there a plunger close by? Is there any spray? What is the strength and feel of the toilet paper? Is this the only bathroom? Is anyone waiting or in the blast radius? What's the ventilation situation?

For example, when at the gf's college house many factors make my business uncomfortable. First, there is only one bathroom (wtf). Second, its on the second floor next to all the girls rooms. Finally, the kicker, the door is about a good 2 inches off the floor leaving a nice gap for air and sound to easily travel through. Adding to that, the door doesn't even shut properly as the doorknob is broken making a small latch and hook ( which leaves another 1 inch gap along the long side of the door) the only thing keeping that door closed. I mine as well be shitting in the middle of the fucking hallway. As you can see it is a unpleasant situation, which causes me to take quick, unfinished dumps, in which I must hold back from really letting it fly. This totally messes with my Feng Shui (pronouced "fung shway" for those uncultured people).

So Men, I want to leave you with this little bit of advice. When your at home, enjoying your home field advantage, you must revel in the moment. And make sure to fully appreciate this optimal situation, because you never know if the next will be, quite this good. There truly is no place like home.

Good shitting to all
PP

Cigars Speak To Us

Sitting on my porch, cigar and beer in hand, I thought to myself that there is no better place for a man to relax and do some thinking. A good cigar and beer are means for conversation that rarely come up anywhere else. You find as the cigar gets closer to its end that it is easy to fade away in thought. But then...just as you were getting comfortable and settled in...the cigar begins to battle with your stomach. Can you fight it off? Drop a few air biscuits to give yourself some extra time to finish the cigar? Or... has the cigar won the battle?

Men, in this situation it is often best to admit defeat rather then be stubborn. Put the cigar down and enjoy the mass eruption and weight loss it has brought upon you. Then, clean and at a lighter weight, return to your cigar, kick back, and with a sense of victory among your thoughts, take the next puff and enjoy life.

It is not a battle men, but a price that comes with enjoying the things we do best. So on your next outing on the porch, remember...the cigar is your friend...dont fight it...listen to it.

Long Live Our Domain,
GM

When Allies Become Enemies

Men, we all have our allies in this life, those we can always rely on in our time of need. Your parents, a friend, or a shot of whiskey. What happens when those assets you hold so dear turn on you?

After a long day of work when you lay in bed, is there no better feeling then to squeeze out a fart under the covers? I think not, a nice air horn under the sheets in the perfect end, you now know that you can go to sleep gas free. Until that friend, that ally you always rely on, turns on you. Friends, you know a new level of tired when you squeeze, urn for that pre-sleep fart, that then it stabs you in the back like a modern day shit Judas, the brown-downtown Benedict Arnold. I just sharted, in my bed. What the hell happened? What did I do to deserve this? Just as I was about to close my eyes the fucking japs pearl harbored my boxers. But I'm so tired... Can I sleep through this?...really? Am I really considering sleeping through a shart? Yes, Yes I did, thank god I made the right choice and went for the wet wipes. That was close.

JB

Pre-Activity Rituals and America

Gents, it's already been discuss here in our man cave that breaking a man's ritual is like burning the American flag, its just something you don't do. But I would like to touch, if I may, upon a different kind of ritual. We all know that there are certain times of day when we are trained to be in the vicinity of a friendly bowl. However I would like to discuss pre-activity releases.

When I go to work out, I can not function without taking a massive heater. Have paper work to do? Better get some coffee to clear you mind and colon before hitting the books. I reference the lines are port-o-johns before 5K's, Marathons, and Triathlons, one has never experienced such a quick fill up of past culinary endeavors. Why you ask? Because Men, we know our bodies, we know when it is time to focus, go big or go home. And before those times we need something familiar, comfortable, and downright stinky before we can carry on our business. I fear what the world would be like if we could not drop weight on the thought of doing an activity. Oil prices would go through the roof, unemployment would skyrocket, and everybody would be so full of their own shit that we probably wouldn't even have health care.

Men, I offer this world a suggestion. Before we go to work, school, or the gym, take your massive dump, maybe it will catch on all the way to Washington.

JB

In Tough Times...Our Domain Suffers A Loss

As the economy continues to struggle and our country falls further into debt, there are areas of major concern that seem to be constantly overlooked.

Ask yourself, what are the essentials needed when you walked in to use the throne? Peace and quiet...maybe. A cross breeze through the bathroom...maybe. Magazine...maybe. Scented spray...maybe. All of these may come to mind, but the most important of all is what allows you to finish the job. It allows you to build a nest on a toilet you might question. The answer gentleman is TP.

In these tough times, TP is an area that people have begun to go cheap on. The more the economy suffers, the closer bathroom TP is getting to resembling and feeling like sandpaper. Quality TP with a soft texture and possible nice scent tops off what can be an all around momentum booster for your day.

So I ask, when you go to the store, order TP for your office, or come across bad TP wherever it may be, make the right choice. Spend the extra dollar, put a complaint in the complaint box. Those around you, the real men, will appreciate your efforts to combat this battle. In tough times such as these, it is the job of real men to stand up for what they believe in.

GM

The Worst Job Ever

Recently I visited an undisclosed military base in Texas for a full 3 days of getting poked, probed, and prodded in order to fly. As a recurring theme on this site, you never, EVER, mess with a man's cycle. Up at 4:30 in the morning to pee in a cup for drug test is really not the most comfortable thing for someone to do who usually wakes up ready to drop weight. So I wake up having to pee, and I say to myself, "Jack, you'll be able to pee just a little bit to fill a cup later, you are the master of your domain." So I pee, and go on about my duty day.

Crunch time comes around, a group of 5 of us are huddled into a bathroom so a person can watch us pee and make sure we aren't slipping anything in to the cup, fair enough. Normally I have terrible stage fright, but I was feeling confident in my abilities, once again, master of my domain. I was wrong. I couldn't pee. So, I exited the bathroom and chugged 2 bottles of water and a can of coke, I started to feel like I had to go, so I dragged the guy back into the bathroom, he chose a closer, smaller bathroom, about 5 x 5. I couldn't piss. People we starting to get annoyed as I was holding everyone else up. I kept feeling pressure to go but I would just fart and it would go away. Then it dawned on me, I had to shit.

I proceeded to find the monitor and ask him a simple enough question, "Hey man, I'm wearing my physical training uniform, I can't hide anything on me, I can pee but only if i take a dump, and you do not want to be in there for this."

**Side note** The night before I had eaten in San Antonio and had a HUGE cheese steak with peppers, onions, and pepper jack cheese.

The monitor checked with his boss, who apparently had no care for this poor guy. Next thing you know I'm walking into the closet size bathroom, monitor close behind, this poor guy had no idea what was about to hit him. So I sit down, he stands in the corner, 3 feet away from me, and reads a Men's Health. And that's when the bombs started falling. I had an explosion that would make the Japanese ask for another atomic bomb, I mean there was nothing quiet, calm, and nice about this monster. This POOR BASTARD stood there while I had a D-Day re-inactment 3 feet away from him. Quickly he grabbed for the Glade can but he was too late, the stench had already attacked him, he was done for. I quickly courtesy flushed, but I also was too late. The damage had been done. I filled up the cup and gave it to him, he swiftly evacuated with my hard work in his hand.

15 Minutes later I emerge from the bathroom, completely devoid of all fluids and solids. To all my class mates giving me a standing ovation. I had done it, I had peed in a cup. Go me. Regrettably I had ruined everything nice and holy about a poor civilian who, if I were him, would go home and shove jalapenos up my nose. This poor man took a full offensive assault from my colon, and lost. All in service for his country.

I leave you with this men, there are people in this world who might not have the most amazing jobs, people who put up with our assholes, the janitors who clean the back splatter on the bowl, the port-o-jon truck driver, and everyone who works at Taco Bell. Men, I ask you to keep these people in your hearts and minds as you go about destroying their workplace, for without them, we would not be able to really enjoy how terrible our shits really are.

A Lesson About Squatting In The Woods

I would like to revisit a story full of lessons about listening to your stomach/mind and doing your business in the right place.

On a chilly fall night, a family came across a roadside diner in the middle of nowhere. Hungry and tired from driving and craving homemade pies, the group pulled off the road to eat.

Lesson one: roadside diners and hole-in-the-wall eateries are the best places to eat.

The group ordered dinner, ate a great meal, and all were satisfied. Or so it appeared. Before taking the check, they realized there were homemade pie specials with vanilla ice cream on the side for dessert. Ignoring their full stomachs and lactose intolerance, the gentleman decided to go ahead with the pecan pie and ice cream special.

Lesson two: Homemade pies at roadside diners are delicious, but when in doubt listen to your lactose intolerance telling you that you have to get in the car and drive another 3 hours after you eat.

On the money! "Tastes like another one." The check was paid, they walked out satisfied. Back in the car, 5 minutes into the drive after dinner, the words spoken "the ice cream won't bother my stomach" quickly became BS. In the middle of the Virginia woods, the great one said, "pull over" in a firm tone.

Pulling down a dirt road in the woods, he jumped out of the car and disappeared into the woods with some TP. A few minutes went by and the family heard sprinting coming at the car from the dark woods. Scared shitless, pants wrapped around his ankles and trying to be pulled up, the man came running out of the woods back to the car.

What had scared this veteran pooper? Gun shots he claimed. As he pulled his pants up to get back in the car, the sniffs of the passengers brought suspicion upon the man. One foot almost on the car floor, they realized he had stepped in his own business in his scared state and sprint from the "gun shot".

Arriving at the hotel, walking in with only his bare feet, the family still in tears and at a loss of breath from the event, the memory was instilled in their minds forever and the Great One had once again set the bar high for achieving some of the greatest shit stories of all time.

Lessons for the day:

Homemade diners in the middle of the woods have the best pies and ice cream, listen to your lactose intolerance, squatting in the woods may not be your best option, if and when you do squat in the woods if you here "gun shots" make sure to step aside from your area of choice before taking your first step in your sprint for cover.

GM

My Safety Blanket

At an undisclosed location in Northern NJ a group of men rough it in the wilderness. There are massive amounts of Italian food and barrels of alcohol. This writer stayed up with the rest of the drinking and eating elite until the wee hours of the morning. Upon waking up to doing my morning business and still being extremely intoxicated, I made an important decision. I could go to sleep and ruin my cycle (see GM's article below) which was not an option, or I could brave the steep slopes to the glorious plastic portojons of excellence.

Of course I went for it. Falling down the hill I made my way to glory, once situated I was able to free myself from the waste that was holding me back, only to wake up 45 minutes later to people yelling my name. The single act of taking a dump had lulled me into such a sense of comfort and safety I had fallen asleep inside the portojon. Friends I tell you this story for two reasons, first of all find your happy place in the bathroom. That's where mine is. It should always be a place of safe thinking for you. The other reason is that you should stick to a wingman concept, if a brother is heading to the jon, check in every now and then so you don't have to mobilize an entire campsite to find someone pass out with his draws around his ankles in the 120 degree portojon.

Think of your fellow man. Look out for each other, and be safe. -JB

The Cycle

A man's cycle can truly determine the outcome of his entire day. Some are morning men, some afternoon, some are anytime men. No matter what category you may fall under, a man's cycle is a ket factor in the way he lives his life. The cycle takes time and effort. Like anything in life it takes commitment and hard work to establish and maintain. Once you get to a solid level of consistency, you must be ready to face adversity. How you handle it may determine whether your cycle is right for you.

This morning I had to get my oil changed. I snoozed a little too long and missed my morning trip to the golden throne. Rushed out the door, I drove to Jiffy Lube in an uncomfortable state. Arriving at my destination, I was confronted with the filthy bathroom at the Jiffy Lube. My lack of commitment to my morning poop cycle had led to my coming face to face with this dilemma. Wait it out for the comfort of my own throne and break the cycle or suck it up and savor what was left of my morning joy? Committing myself to excellence, I ventured into the Jiffy Lube bathroom, constructed a nest built for the Greek Gods, and finished off what could have been a bad start to my day. So off I drove in my car, fresh oil change, and a empty tank ready to be refueled by lunch.

Moral of the story, a man's cycle is a beautiful part of life. When faced with adversity, just as in anything else, make the choice to commit to your cycle because once you steer off course you run the risk of losing the thing you have work so hard to achieve.

Be A Man, Make the Right Choice.

GM

Rough Night, Good Morning

Whiskey filled nights. We all love and hate them, they can be the most fun, and the most anger filled. After a night of heavy drinking and good times to be followed by warring with those around you, I wake up with a hungover. I'm in a land of uncomfortable feelings mentally and physically. I quickly begin to handle the hangover with a cup of coffee and aspirin, but the sour taste of the last nights encounter still linger. Then it happens. The coffee bubbles, my stomach twitches, and I'm back home. My body says "enough of this" and sends me to my place of peace. A short 15 minutes later I'm back at neutral. Pooping has always been a cleansing experience, sometimes I forget that its not only a physical cleansing, but a mental cleansing as well. I'll leave you with this, when things don't go as you want them to, remember that soon enough you will be purging yourself of your garbage, mental or physical at some time. Don't forget how much taking a dump means to you, sometimes we take it for granted, but when we need it to flush out our toxins, it does a damn good job. For that I say thank you colon.

"When life gives your lemons, say fuck the lemons and bail" or take a huge shit and move on. -JB

The Changing Times

As I sat this morning with the window open and a draft coming over the can, I found myself thinking about a lot of things. Mid thought, my phone goes off. Angry at the interruption, I couldn't help but think about the ways in which technology has taken away from a mans time to think on the john. Whether it is texting, brick breaker, phone calls, etc. all of these things take away from the one place where we do our best thinking. Some of the greatest inventions of all time were thought of on the toilet: the waffle maker, the snuggy, electricity, george forman grills, the game of darts, and countless others. But lately these kinds of things have taken a drastic decline in our world. So today fellas, put down your phone or whatever it may be, don't take it on your morning journey to what could be an invention of greatness. Embrace our arena of thought.

GM

While walking down a small hallway heading towards porcelain bank to make a deposit, a female friend of mine began to follow me. I was already in full stride with my eyes on the prize and I was stinking up the hallway for sure. When I gave her fair warning to wait at the other side of the hallway for a while to let it air out, she gave me the "ew gross" reaction and continued down the hallway without heeding my warning. She was quickly turned around and "ew gross" turned into "what the fuck I'm going to puke". Moral of the story, if you are lucky enough to receive a gas warning, do what your friend says. Friends don't let friends walk into their gas cloud without a warning first, its just the right thing to do. -JB

Poop Hammock

This afternoon I was introduced to the Poop Hammock. Here is how it works:

While at a party with plenty of intoxicated people, a man goes into the bathroom lifts up the toilet and strategically places toilet paper across the bowl to create wall between the water and someones butt. He then closes the seat back down over the paper. An intoxicated person comes in to drop a heater and ends up either leaving the doody on the hammock without knowing it or running into a little trouble once they realize they are sitting in their own doody.

You learn something everyday. Always keep an open mind.

As I woke up this morning I found myself craving a nice cool breeze. So with a morning stew brewing, I approached the throne. Little to my knowledge, the temperature had dropped last night, and as I set up shop I felt a cool breeze coming through my window directly over the can. I thought to myself, what does the perfect dump involve? A cool breeze reducing any chance of busting beads while enjoying weight release was one of the first things to come to mind. So for all you people out there, when building a bathroom consider building a window at toilet level to allow the cool flow of a morning breeze over the throne while you take a non-sweaty dump.

Life is beautiful. What a great start to the day.

The Morning Workout

Waking up at 6 AM to work out with my peers has never been an issue, but they just can't seem to understand why after running for a mile I disappear. They think I'm breaking out because I'm out of shape, when in reality I'm going to get a work out of a different type. To me there is nothing grosser then running into a bathroom to work out, still breathing hard, and sweaty as hell, only to sit down, slide all over the seat, and take a nice sweaty dump. When I return to the track and I run much faster, but I fear for the safety of those in my wake because, lets be serious, when I am forced into poopin' on the fly, there is always some a residual gas. My thought for this morning- JB

Welcome!

Welcome to the Everyday Man's Thoughts on Pooping! On this blog a couple of regular guys will be sharing their thoughts on crapping, ideas while pooping, the finer points of shitting, global issues as seen from the throne, and the heaviest of subjects while we drop weight! Enjoy!