Yorkis' Log Blog

The Conhead Catastrophe

2005-06-17T07:47:00.000-04:00

There’s really nothing quite like a “Conehead Sundae” from Friendly’s.

I remember I used to always get them for desert with my kids meal. For those of you who don’t know, the conehead sundae is a scoop of ice cream with a cone on top and a smiley face made out of Reese’s Pieces. If Elliot had ever taken E.T. to Friendly’s, he’d have shot a huge load of alien goo in his flannel shirt when he saw this tasty treat. (NOTE: I used to order my conehead sundaes with chocolate ice cream so I could have African-American coneheads with dark chocolate faces. I would call them "Wesley Scoops").

When I went to Friendly’s the other night for ice cream, I scanned the dessert menu 4 times and couldn’t find the conehead sundae anywhere! I had to settle for a Reese’s Pieces Sundae – 3 scoops of _mocha chunk ice cream, caramel, peanut butter, hot fudge, and of course, some tasty Pieces. This is probably a better sundae than the conehead to begin with, but it did not have a face on it… or a cone.

Well, this thing was tasty as hell, and I ate the shit out of it. However, as I got up to leave, I started to wonder if I could contain it for the 5 minute ride to my house. When I saw a fat lady paying her massive bill at the front, I realized I wouldn’t make it, so I bolted for the restroom in the back.

I sat down in the handicap stall and gave a little squeeze. The logs flowed fast and furious! There were four of them, each about 3-and-a-half inches in length. When I looked down into the bowl, I saw what looked like 4 flaccid, black mini-dildos.

A fine decision and a fine result. I've never been diagnosed as "lactose intolerant", but this episode would suggest that it's a strong possibility. Either way, there's nothing that could prevent me from going back for seconds! It was that damn good. And besides, how could I hate on 4 logs? That's like the Denny's grand slam breakfast of poop.

The Serious Side of Poo

2005-06-06T16:06:00.000-04:00

Sometimes it is important to remember that pooping can literally save your life.

GUEST LOGGER

2005-06-06T08:30:00.000-04:00

Here is an excellent email I received about a reader's anus that made me laugh a lot...
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Circa ~1988:
I'm out East with a girlfriend who's brother owns Chung King House of Metal, and we were at the Apollo for a New Year's Eve bash with the likes of 3rd Bass and LL Cool J. Besides 3rd Base, me, my girlfriend, her brother, and a few record exec's, the place was black as midnight. Well, Serch and I decided to partake in some organic treats to set the evening on its ear.

One thing lead to another, and the next thing I know I'm tripping balls surrounded by the cast of The Wiz. I have to poop, so I will make this short-- I thought I had to shit, I talked myself into thinking it was my imagination, I went to fart, I destroyed my trousers. I went to a rather nice backstage restroom and cleaned myself up as best as possible, but the smell was quite noticable. My girlfriend asked me several times if I could smell shit, and I responded, "Honey, Black people have a peculiar odor about them, and this is true with all races. Stop being a racist pig."

Hot Log Eating Contest

2005-06-03T11:03:00.000-04:00

Last Saturday, I went to a Nathan’s Hot Dog Eating Contest qualifying event in downtown Philly. I was there to support my buddy Scotty “The Tapeworm”, though I didn’t have much faith in his ability to compete with some of the finest eaters in the world.

Before the contest, I met “Yellowcake” – the #16 ranked eater in the world by the IFOCE (International Federation of Competitive Eating). This guy was like 6-8 and 300 lbs. Obviously, he didn’t have a soft touch in the post or any jumping ability. I also saw that there was Buffalo Bob and Humble Bob, who both looked like talented gurgitators.

Some dude handed me an Opie & Anthony bumper sticker and told me to watch out for this guy “Pat from Munacki”. I had no idea who this was since I haven’t really listened to O&A since they moved to satellite. Blogging about my anus doesn’t exactly afford me great luxuries.

Anyway, this "Pat from Munacki" guy was the ugliest, fattest fuck I’ve ever seen in my life. Good thing he was wearing a hat and shorts so we didn’t have to see all the pimples and warts on his head and ass to match the ones all over his fat, disgusting face. I take it back – they should just make these guys all compete shirtless like boxers so we can get a true appreciation for their nauseating girth. You gotta work hard for that.

Anyway, I tried to offer my buddy The Tapeworm a “competitive edge” out of my 1-hitter, but he unwisely declined, and ended up eating a measly 7 hot dogs. I had already eaten a whitefish salad bagel and 2 root beer floats, and I could have eaten 7 dogs!

But as the competition went on, it was clear that this Pat guy was putting on the performance of a lifetime. He was clearly an underdog and was learning his technique by watching those around him. Despite only average technique, this guy showed the heart of a true eater - a heart that was working extra hard to pump cased meats through his few remaining unclogged arteries. The crowd was on fire! Once big Pat did his “fat guy wiggle dance”, it was all over. Everyone was rooting for him, myself included. How could you not root for this guy? He probably hasn’t seen his balls since he was 12. Plus his name even rhymes with "fat"! How cool is that? [If I ever adopt an African-American child, I'm gonna name him "Mack".]

Anway, big Pat downed 20 nasty ass Nathan’s hot dogs (which are gross. Why couldn’t Ball Park get in on this action? At least they "plump when you cook ‘em!"). But he’ll need to do some serious training to beat that little Japanese dude in the nationals.

What I really want to know, though, is what does a 20-dog dump look like? What does it feel like? What does it taste like? Can someone send me a picture of this fresh out the bowl? Or else, just send me an overly graphic story and I’ll post you as a “guest LOGger” on The Chronicles of My Anus! See, anyone's anus can get in on the fun! (NOTE: I stole that last line from the mission statement at www.hotgaysex.com)

GUEST LOGGER - "The Tapeworm"

2005-06-03T10:05:00.000-04:00

Here's The Tapeworm's account of his piss-poor (ahem, I mean't "poo-poor") performance in the Hot Dog eating contest...

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After sulking away from a disappointing 7-hot-dog run in the Nathan's Famous Hot Dog Eating Contest in Philadelphia, PA, I had little to hang my hat on. I had failed to live up to my self-appointed moniker of Scott "The Tapeworm" Pollack, let alone the expectations of my devoted fan base. With a somber tone I made my way back up to my native New York, putting out of mind the forgettable events of recent past to look
forward to the inevitable release to come.

I learned the art of the Pollack poo from my father, Gilbert "The Incinerator" Pollack, so named for his ability to consume everyday foods and some objects and produce smoldering masses of human waste. Between me and my only other sibling, Justin "The Music Man" Pollack, I was a favored, star pupil of the poo-pil.. Over the years I'd honed my excretion skills, to the point where no bathroom is safe from the wrath of my expunging anus. Today, however, I was to make my father proud.

From the moment the clock struck down the last second of the twelve minute contest, as the beefy juices of seven meat by-product sausages and corresponding spongy potato buns stewed in my distended belly, I knew I had a a few good logs in the chute. I crashed for a couple hours, allowing an appropriate curing time for the masterful shit I had been awaiting. Seven hours for seven hot dogs, an hour of colonic brewing for each meatstick. With moments to spare, I began the Pre-Poo
Launch Procedures. Primary TP: check. Secondary backup roll: check. Long-use reading material (book, not magazine): check. T-minus 1 minute. I made my way to the toilet like a member of the Apollo missions. My warm flesh created a tight seal around the hole of the bowl, and I buckled down for takeoff. I hit the ignition. The engine flared, the starter turned over with a few chugs of pre-log flatulence.
Like a virginal deflowering I bit my lip and tightened my grip, as I pushed that baby out.

I wish I could report that the resulting feces was a sight for sore eyes, but alas, the shit-baby I had so built up in my mind and large intestine was stillborn. A few tadpoles, a couple of gaseuous releases, but hardly anything to warrant the excitement. Like my run for the coveted championship Nathan's Mustard Yellow Belt, a spectacular leadup led to another stunning round of soul-tearing disappointment, rather than ass-tearing pooping. I am sorry, Father, I have failed you.

Regrettably yours,
Scott "The Tapeworm" Pollack

"Moore" Fantastic Logs!

2005-06-03T09:56:00.000-04:00

Now that I'm done offending the internet and people with AIDS, I figured I'd get back to the essence of what makes this blog so great...........

My anus!!!

I had a good pretty good one at the Moorestown Mall the other day in the food court, which brought my “mall food court pooping total” for the past two weeks up to 2. I think these malls strategically locate their restrooms in the food court because mall food makes people have to poop a lot.

I think what set me off was doing 20 laps around the food court just so I could get more free samples of sesame chicken on toothpicks. You've gotta be smooth about that, so each time I walked by I'd pass by and then pretend like I just spotted the guy out of the corner of my eye and then stop suddenly like, "hey! sesame chicken!" Then, I'd chew on it slowly and pretend like I was contemplating actually buying stuff that they're giving me for free! Never!!!

So then I would take off my jacket, walk around again, and do the same thing. Each time I did something different to make me look like a different person, like roll my sleeves up or mess up my hair a bit. I'd throw out my toothpick during the lap just so there was no evidence that I had already gotten a piece of that tasty chicken. During some laps, I'd try to get extra pieces with clever ruses like, "The guy at the register is trying to ask you something! [then yoink a few pieces when he turns]". One time I told the guy that I needed an extra one for my mom and just pointed to a random woman in the food court. The guy seemed suspicious since it was an obese black woman, but I got the extra piece of sesame chicken, and that's what counts!

NOTE: This whole "free-chicken" thing is much easier to do if you are asian, since they all look alike.

The damage from my escapades was really just one massive log. Nothing to sneeze at really. But as a guy who has dropped off some of the most gigantic logs in some of the most horrific places, I generally don’t bother writing about just another run-of-the mill 8-incher with an inch-and-a-half diameter. HA! I drop those in my sleep!

But the thing that made this experience so crazy was that the toilet kept automatically flushing every time I reached for some more TP! It was powerful too!

After cold sewer water shot up my anus for the fifth time in 4 minutes, I decided that there was only one option – I had to stand up and wipe! This would normally be quite difficult, but mercifully, the poo was fairly dry and well-contained. I shouldn’t have had to do a “satellite wipe” (you know – a quick moisture check around the outer regions before heading for the core) since there was no dookie splatter, but I had to get the water out of my asshairs so they wouldn’t make my underpants uncomfortably moist.

This was still better than my Cherry Hill Mall experience earlier in the week, since the toilet seats in Moorestown didn’t have any crabs on them!

"Magic" Feedback

2005-06-02T09:59:00.000-04:00

Well, it appears that I have successfully incited chaos on the Internet with my “Magic’s House” posting. By your comments, I was able to draw some of the following conclusions:

1. There are a lot of Lakers fans who enjoy reading about poop.
2. There are a staggering number of people who both have AIDS and are able to use the Internet. (Coincidence? I think not!)
3. People who do not find The Chronicles [of my anus] funny, are generally unoriginal and probably love Jesus a lot.

I’d like to touch on that third point for a minute. Whether you feel I’m an ignorant moron or not (even though I clearly am), you’d think that the last person could come up with a more original rip than calling me an ignorant moron again, right? Doesn’t anyone carry around a Thesaurus anymore?

Look, lame-o’s – I’ll help cure you of your originality deficiencies with a little brainstorming exercise. Work with me here:

jimmy hat, rubber, wrapper, raincoat, protection, lambskin, magnum, ribbed…

What are those? ... Give up? Those are all words that relate to condoms. Perhaps if you people would have known that, you wouldn’t be spreading around so much AIDS.

I should have known that there would be a lot of homos Googling this blog when I put the word “anus” in the title!

However, it's time to get back to what made this site great - more chronicles of my anus!!! I’ll be back later today with some great stories about the moist brownie batter that I sprayed from my rectal canal last night before I went to bed.

Magic's House

2005-05-27T15:10:00.000-04:00

Here's something I've been thinking about a lot lately for absolutely no reason whatsoever:

If you were at Magic Johnson's house and had to take a dump, would you do it? or would you just hold it in and risk losing it in your pants and having it roll down your leg onto the floor?

Right now, I'm leaning towards "holding it," since often times my logs are large and cause slight tears of my anal walls, which would make me more susceptable to getting the AIDS that is floating around in the air in his house. This is the reason that gay people get a lot of AIDS (because they tear up each other's anal walls during sex, not because they hang out at Magic Johnson's house).

However, in order to carefully ASSess the situation, I've decided to list some pro's and con's about whether you should poop at Magic's house or hold it in.

PRO: You don't really want to poop yourself in front of a celebrity, do you?
CON: I'm sure he has plenty of maids who have encountered this before. They'll clean up the poop. Just say his dog (or his wife) did it if anyone asks you.

PRO: He probably isn't gonna let you use the same toilet that he poops in anyway.
CON: Yeah, but we don't know how fast AIDS travels in the air. What if it flies around really fast, or attaches itself to dust particles? Do you really want to spread cheek and risk AIDS-laced dust particles flying up your rectum?

PRO: You could tell your friends, "I took a dump at Magic Johnson's house!"
CON: You could end up telling your friends, "I took a dump at Magic Johnson's house...... and got AIDS!"

PRO: Well, Isiah Thomas guarded him at his last All Star Game, and he didn't get AIDS!
CON: Yeah, but Isiah guarded him from 10 feet away. Besides, Isiah's gay anyway, so you gotta figure he knows how to protect himself from AIDS. Haven't you ever heard him talk?

PRO: Magic's had AIDS forever, and he looks fine!
CON: Well, he is a bit chubby. But you don't have Magic's money, so the AIDS is gonna kill your ass.

PRO: But what's the big deal? I've already got AIDS!
CON: Uh... er... well, I guess you should just go for it then! I'm not a doctor or anything, but can you get more AIDS then you already have?

PRO: Oops, my bad! I meant I've already got Herpes, not AIDS.
CON: Well, you've already decided that it was okay to poop at Mike Vick's house, so you obviously have no qualms about this sort of thing. Drop it like it's hot!

UPDATE: "Close Call"

2005-05-27T14:28:00.000-04:00

For those of you who were concerned about yesterday, it took an extra cup of coffee, but I eventually got the rest of the poo out in the afternoon and successfully unclogged my rectum. It came out in the form of one big Momma log, followed by one Deformed Brown Offspring log.

Don't worry though - after a basket of Applebee's riblets from last night and a crock of french onion soup, with this afternoon's KFC 3-piece crispy strips meal (w/ a biscuit and sides of macaroni and potato wedges, all dipped in a combination of ranch dressing and hot sauce) I should be back on the hopper in no time!

Check back soon for more exciting tales of excrement!

Close Call

2005-05-26T11:19:00.000-04:00

I feel a little unfulfilled right now. I squeezed out a few small nuggets, but they were harder than I had expected. It felt like they were scraping against my anal walls along the right side, but I was relieved to see that there was no blood on the toilet paper during the wipe.

I hope I can get the rest of this batch out before lunch time, or else I'm not gonna be very hungry.

Cherry Bombs

2005-05-25T16:55:00.000-04:00

Here is an important bit of advice:

If you ever have to drop a double at the Cherry Hill Mall, just hold it in until you get home. Or else crap your pants. Whatever you've gotta do. But DO NOT press your cheeks atop the toilets in the food court men's room. Trust me. I may have to go to therapy to get over last night.

That Poopin' Feeling!

2005-05-11T15:07:00.000-04:00

I was only 4 miles from work this morning when I felt a sharp tinge in the lower intestine. I didn't think I was gonna make it in. I fought to resist the urge to pull into one of the 2 truck stops around the corner. I thought to myself, “C’mon Yorkis – you can hold it in. A fresh bowl shared primarily with Europeans awaits you at your office.”

[Of course, it’s nice to know that your co-workers are all European, because it means that you are less likely to get crabs from the toilets since they all carefully wash their hineys in bidets at home.]

I sped down the roads to the building and ran 2 reds. Then I got held up at the gate because of like 3 visitors in a row. I honked the horn. “Can’t you see I’ve gotta drop a big one here???”

So I rolled down the window to get some air, then finally I got inside and parked, and by the time I got to my office...I LOST the DOO!

(singing in my head) “I’ve lost that poopin’ feeling, now its’ gone, gone, gone…”

I was gonna go grab a cup of coffee, just to ensure that the doo would be able to exit as moistly and smoothly as possible in order to prevent any possible anal bleeding. But as soon as I got up – the doo was back!

I scampered to the stall and unleashed something brown and heinous. Normally, I would give myself a courtesy flush – but since my nose is stuffy today, I couldn’t smell shit! (literally!!)

Instead, I decided to let the poo – which consisted of one large moist log (say, 7-9 inches), a second smaller moist log, and some frayed splatter from a final watery burst – marinate in the bowl a little bit, while I played video games on my cell phone until my legs fell asleep.

I'm just glad I could hold it till I got to the office. Pooping at the office is way better than at a truck stop because when you finish at the office, there aren't big, hairy guys in flannel shirts waiting to rape you outside the stall.

Top 6 things to do after taking a dump at work

2005-05-11T15:01:00.000-04:00

6. Wait for the bathroom to clear out so no one knows that you were just pooping.

5. Sneak back to your desk so that no one wonders where you were for the last 20 minutes, since they'll probably just assume that you were just pooping.

4. Beat off! No one's been able to find you for the past 20 minutes. What difference will another 3-and-a-half minutes make?

3. (If someone else is at the sink or at the urinal) Jump out of the stall and say, “Whoa! Don’t go in there buddy.......unless you enjoy the wretched stench of my ass!”

2. Relax on the bowl and play video games on your cell phone until your legs fall asleep. Then try to wake up your legs by shaking them - but wipe and pull up your pants first.

1. Flush down the poo, wait a minute for the bowl to fill with clean water, then dip your ass down into the water and hit the flush again – which will allow the swirling function of the toilet to thoroughly wash the dried residual dookie off of your ass so you don’t get a rash. (NOTE: Rashes can be very painful – especially if you don’t have anyone around to apply the Desitin for you.)

Rest Stop Drop

2005-03-07T09:53:00.000-05:00

This morning I had to pull into a rest stop on the turnpike to drop a double. So when I go to restroom, there’s some guy in there mopping. Clearly he was more concerned with the floors than the bowls, since the first stall I tried was already filled with a gargantuan plop in a bowl full of urine.

Well, you’d think that this Mexican would mop the other stalls first, but he starts mopping the stall to my left (I was on the end, there was none on my right). But I notice from under the door that he's mopping right out in front of my stall! Then I see that he's mopping inside the stall next to mine. I was so startled, I didn't notice if he flushed the doo in there first or not.

I'm thinking "can't he just start on the other side and let me drop in peace?"

But like a bad dream, his mop starts moving under the partition, and before I realize what’s going on, he’s mopping my left foot while I’m still pooping!

That was by far my most shocking deuce-dropping moment of all time that did not directly involve the deuce itself. I'm surprised he didn't just walk inside the stall to hang out.

Cheese Dog

2005-02-10T10:02:00.000-05:00

Yesterday I dropped something so spectacular, it doesn’t even need a background story.

I went over to my favorite work stall and unleashed something enormous from my osmotic anal membrane. This thing was nearly 2 inches in diameter, and about 13 inches long! It was so huge that it was sticking up in the air, way above the water line in the bowl.

Sure, I’ve excreted some massive logs in my day, but what made this one so special is that I thought it was over at that point – but suddenly I felt a little grumble somewhere between the small & large intestine. I was thinking “impossible! How could there be anything left inside of me after that ungodly monstrosity?”

And then it happened…

It was only about a half inch thick this time, but it oozed out of my anus as if the first log was a giant gas station hot dog (more like those creepy cheeseburger-dogs, since they’re browner and lumpier on the outside), and my ass was one of those cheese whiz pumps. The poo-drizzle was so perfect, it didn’t break off until it was nearly a foot and a half long, curled neatly on top.

There was so much fecal matter in the bowl that day, that I didn’t think I’d be able to flush – and that was before introducing any TP to the bowl! As I stood over the bowl and looked down at my masterpoo in awe, I felt an overwhelming sense of pride that - combined with the scent of 5 pounds of Taco Bell-induced droppings – nearly brought a tear to my eye.

Ah, sweet, smelly feces :)

The Best Calzone Ever!

2005-01-03T17:19:00.000-05:00

The other night I went to a decent chain-type Italian restaurant in Pittsburgh. It was one of those that probably was real popular when it opened up during that “wood-burned pizza” fad – which lasted about 3 months until everyone realized that wood-burned pizza was much crappier than the pizza you could get at your neighborhood pizza store and about 3 times more expensive.

Clearly, I was not going to order this fancy sham of a pizza from the menu, so I opted for a calzone w/ meatballs, mushrooms and green peppers. I figured that a 10-dollar calzone had to be good, right?

Well I was wrong. It wasn’t good – it was un-fucking-believable! The waiter brought this monstrosity out and said “this is the best looking calzone I’ve ever seen come out of our kitchen!” I had never been there before, but this thing was so good, he had to be right. I was full after downing only two-thirds of the behemoth.

So I munched on a cannoli for dessert, and then I felt that ricotta meeting up with the calzone ricotta and planning a back door exit from the party in my stomach.

I settled in the handicapped stall and laid the paper, as the jackass in the stall next to me wiped himself while butchering the lyrics to Big Poppa. But even a T-bone steak, cheese, eggs, and Welch’s grape couldn’t have done as much internal damage as the colossal calzone. My intestines were about to do some butchering of their own.

The initial log was only about 7 inches in length, but it was thick and satisfying. But a few seconds after that, all hell broke loose. I sprayed brown second-hand ricotta all over the bowl and it was very uncomfortable. I recovered a few minutes later, but even the 5-minute ride home proved difficult.

I could barely concentrate on the road with the forceful poo pressing against the inner wall of my anus. I quickly parked the car and bolted upstairs, unleashing a tsunami of liquid excrement into the porcelain ocean before my cheeks even made contact with the seat. The final remains of the calzone were gone – except for the last third, which would ultimately serve as the next day’s breakfast in the morning and natural dranal-O in the afternoon.

Believe me, there are no craps more satisfying than the ones that barely escape your pants.

Send Feedback!

2004-12-23T11:35:00.002-05:00

Please feel free to email me some of your own rectal triumphs and fecal feats for inclusion on this site. I may even post you as a “guest logger” if they’re sick enough.

The Devil Made Me Doo Doo!

2004-12-21T10:15:00.000-05:00

Sunday afternoon I was watching another ho-hum Eagles game as they looked to pummel the hapless Cowboys – who used to be a great rival, but suck so bad right now that it’s not even fun anymore. I couldn’t even motivate myself to drink.

Then TO got his leg bent backwards.

I went to the fridge and grabbed a tasty Hop Devil – the finest Indian Pale Ale in the country (sorry, Sierra Nevada. It’s true). The problem with Hop Devil is that it’s so tasty and so strong, but always leads to the same results:

POSITIVE RESULT – My taste buds are satisfied and I am smashed.
NEGATIVE RESULT – My bowels are not satisfied and I have to take a smash.

But it’s no ordinary smashing sensation. Every time I drink 3 or more of these things, I have awful gas for the next 10 hours or so. And I don’t mean that it’s just a little smelly…

Basically, I have to release some fumes every 10 minutes or so. But it’s no easy chore. In essence, the Hop Devil makes my ass turn into Saddam Hussein – you never know if it’s gonna drop a bomb or just release some poisonous gas.

So, I tried to release it harmfully into the atmosphere a few times; other times I just went to the bathroom. But after the thunderous release, there would be merely one little brown ball at the bottom of the bowl. Fin!

Let’s just say that this event repeated itself enough times throughout the rest of the evening that I could have added some milk, grabbed a spoon, and gone “cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs” had I decided to let these pebbles accumulate instead of express delivering them Poo-P-S to the sewer.

What a terrific new breakfast idea! People are always eating nasty cereals anyway, like all that Raisin Bran and other fibery stuff to help them go. Why not just eat the bran in its most wholesome form? Let’s make it happen! Soon all the elderly will be going “Ca-ca for Cocoa Poops!”

[Why will this work, you ask? Well, out of a survey of people who consume human feces, 9 out of 10 said they are interested in this product.

NOTE: The other 10% prefers its feces in either protein shakes or as a drizzle on top of ice cream.]

Hanu-Ca Ca

2004-12-16T14:34:00.000-05:00

It was the 6th day of Hanukkah – the “Festival of Lights”. Most people use a lighter to light the Hanukkah candles these days; we just grab the matches from the bathroom.
The miracle of Hanukkah is that the Jews only had enough oil to keep the Temple lit for 1 day, but it miraculously lasted 8. The miracle of my special Hanukkah dinner on Sunday was that there was only enough room in my intestines for it to stay for one day, but it miraculously lasted for 3!

You would think that piling sour cream and applesauce on my latkes (potato pancakes) would ensure that this holiday meal would only be residing inside of me for a very short time. After all, sour cream is essentially just some very tasty bacteria, and applesauce has lots of fiber and requires little digestion.

But apparently these flavorful toppings didn’t see the checkout time and were forcing me to take in more patrons (as in 2 more days worth of meals) despite the “No Vacancy” sign hanging on my stomach.

Finally, it hit me Tuesday night – ironically, on the final night of Hanukkah – like a ton of bricks. I ran to the upstairs restroom and launched something into the toilet that had a consistency closer to the oil that was found in the Temple than the bricks used to build it – except that it was brown and probably much smellier.

In fact, I had so little time to prepare this poop that I inadvertently left the bathroom door wide open, while the wife was ironing my pants a mere 10 feet away! The odor was so pungent, she had to stop ironing and run downstairs to escape its wretched fumes.

She came back up 5 minutes later and closed the bathroom door, but the hollow oak was no match for my Hanu-ca ca! The whole bedroom stunk and there was no way to stop it.

I am wearing the same pants she was ironing right now! I must say that while they look sharp and wrinkle-free, I really wish people would stop coming up to me and asking me if someone took a dump in my office!

GUEST LOGGER

2004-12-15T09:20:00.000-05:00

Steve Jeltz e-mailed in this ge[r]m...
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Recently being relegated to a dreaful life of obscenely early mornings, my coffee intake has increased exponentially. This morning I arose for work at 3:30 a.m. and hit the Dunkin Donuts for a yummy Cinnamon stick and XL coffee (extra cream, extra sugar). In a procedure which I wasn't even aware took place, while I was sleeping a skilled surgeon re-routed my esophagus directly to my anus bypassing any intestines normally necessary for digestion. As I sat down at my desk, I could feel the familiar grumblings of an angry, vengeful rectum. Being unfamiliar with my new surroundings, I have not yet found a blissful camode which I can paint with my sweet, aromatic brown paint. I headed to the 2nd floor of the lovely Pennsylvania Convention Center where yesterday I laid waste to the Handicrap stall. In an engineering mishap, someone placed the toilet paper dispenser too low and close to the leg, so I am forced to sit almost side-saddle on this uncomfortable shitter and release my little brown soldiers. If I were Linda McCartney, this duty would have been magnificent...but I digress... The moment my pale white bottom touched that seat I knew a battle was about to commence. I braced myself like an airplane crash victim and closed my eyes. A non-stop jettison of liver, lungs and spleen came rocketing out of my duty canal. I was shocked because, at this moment, I discovered I was pregnant and this child would not wait. I reared back, held my sideways legs in the air and pushed my new butt-baby out as hard as I could. Upon conclusion I leaned forward and stared into the bowl searching for my new kin. Imagine my horror and dissappointment while I looked down and instead of a son, I had dropped a disentigrated placenta and a gallon of afterbirth. If I had crapped out a rusty coat hangar, it all would have made so much more sense. Being disgusted by my findings, I flushed lil' Connor Pooperson down the drain and buckled up my pants praying that our current administration will not arrest me for murder. My butt-baby is dead. Praise Jesus as he will now be forever immortalized in this sacred blog. Farewell Connor Pooperson, much like in real life, your watery grave shall remain a special place.

Solidity : 0
Color : 1 (Burnt Placenta/coffee grinds)
Facilities : -7
Satisfaction : -10 (i miss my baby)
Smell : 0

Overall : -16

I once got raped in prison by a Log with the Hi-5 and consider that a far more pleasant experience. Always remember 'Lil Connor Pooperson. :(

National Treasure

2004-12-08T15:52:00.000-05:00

PHILADELPHIA, December 3, 2004 - On Friday, I ended up going out to dinner and a movie w/ the wife and another couple. The dinner was pleasant – some fish and some very pale ales. The desert, however, was creamy, milky, and heavy. Probably some ice cream in there too. The crème broulee was too thick. Hell, it tasted like they just came and put a blowtorch to a bowl of Jell-o instant pudding.

So then I was perfectly comfortable as I eased into the seat for the movie National Treasure – another one of those where Nick Cage manages to do something incredibly awesome despite the fact that he is noticeably retarded. I was about 3 quarters through the movie, and then it hit me…

I never leave movies to go to the crapper. I don’t even have to take leaks. But this time I didn’t think I could make it. I squirmed in my seat and hoped the movement would pass. It did – but then it came back! I had already made the decision to fight this to the bitter end. Besides, I couldn’t leave now or else I’d never find out where the National Treasure was and what it was.

So I shifted my belt one notch looser, hoping that would prevent it from squeezing my intestines and forcing a pre-mature brown birth from the breech position. Another movement hit, and I undid the button at the top of my pants.

I survived till the end of the movie. When I stood up, I don’t even know how my pants stayed around my waist since there was nothing keeping them there. If anyone had seen how sloppily my pants looked barely hanging on at that point, they’d have assumed that I just came back from getting my dick sucked by a crackhead [in exchange for some crack, of course].

We left the theater and I excused my self to the men’s room. 3 short, wet bursts and my bowels were at ease.
If anyone wants to see the National Treasure for himself, you should go to the Riverview Theater on Deleware Avenue and check the handicap stall in the men’s room. You’ll recognize it because it is light-brown, mushy, partially afloat, and has the distinguishable odor of my ass.

A Sloppy Success!

2004-12-01T17:21:00.000-05:00

December 1, 2004

I had a great idea last night! I would have the fellas come over for a Pinochle game, and make everyone sloppy joes! I thought, "what could possibly pass through my system more easily than something that looks the same going in as it does coming out?"

Then I had a better idea! I would drink Budweiser all night while playing cards. The intended result was that I would work up a good buzz before bed so that I could jerk off and pass out. Great success!

When I first woke up, my flatulence kept me from falling back asleep. So I let a few SBV’s rip, then managed to catch a few more Zzzz’s as I the warmth of my stink fumes cozied me back into a slumber.

I took a sobering shower, and then threw on some boxers and socks. But I soon realized there wasn’t enough time to select pants if I wanted to wear these boxers to work! I bolted back to the bathroom and dropped off the load.

Two warm logs gently flowed from my small intestines. The first was a normal thickness, and the second was a lean doody-strand of equal length. The two logs lying side by side at the bottom of the bowl reminded me of an “I-slot” football formation, with the logs representing wide receivers Terrell Owens (first log) and Todd Pinkston (lean log) lined up very closely on the same side of the field, and the slot representing my hairy crack from whence they came.

I made it to work without further incident, but as I was standing at my desk about to turn on the computer, the huge ball of gas hit my gut and caused me to panic. I didn’t know if I could unleash the smokestack without the lava flowing right behind it. I bolted to the restroom and unleashed all the fury of Mount Saint Colon in the middle stall.

It looked just like the sloppy joe from the night before, in all its splattery, sloppy glory. Great sloppy success!

A Thanksgiving Feces: Turd-key, Bran-berrys, and Sweet Poo-tatoes

2004-11-29T16:07:00.000-05:00

November 24-28, 2004

Wednesday night I left for Pittsburgh on an empty stomach, saving up for a holiday weekend full of eating events.

I ate a small breakfast and no lunch on Thursday, to ensure that there was as much room as possible for me to eat everything in sight at our big Thanksgiving feast at the nursing home.

There were 3 different turkey platters, 2 stuffings, cranberry sauce, sweet and mashed potatoes, and plenty of vegetables on (and around) the table. And like 4 pies for desert. For the record, I ate all that shit. Twice. I love Thanksgiving.

The only thing I like better than eating Thanksgiving dinner is crapping it out. There’s nothing more satisfying than taking my annual Plymouth Rock Plop and filling up the bowl with giant turkey turds – turning it into a virtual “cornucrappia” o' plenty, if you will.

However, as I woke up Friday, there was a problem – it was all still inside me. Worse yet, it wasn’t showing any signs of coming out. I had to meet some cousins at Starbucks for 11 AM coffee, but even a pumpkin spice latte couldn’t induce the turtlehead out of its shell. Then it was off to lunch. Surely some creamy alfredo pasta would do the trick! But I sat on the couch all afternoon and felt nothing. This thing went Galapagos on me!

I was scheduled for a big dinner at an expensive restaurant. I had to make room, but ran out of time. So I went out and piled on some veal chops and pumpkin cheesecake, which I figured would be more than enough to allow my little brown frends to slip past the guards and move on to freedom from their dark, cavernous, anal prison. I headed back to the nice, comfy restroom – but it wasn’t meant to be. I squeezed and squeezed and the result of my labor was but a mere 3 poo pebbles.

I gave up and went to the bar. A few pitchers of tasteless Miller Lite dried my system for the evening. Surely the morning deuce would alleviate my bowels.

But I woke up at noon and was dragged out to a hibachi lunch. I had no idea where it would all go, but apparently I still had room for a filet mignon, a plate full of fried rice, 6 shrimp, and an eel roll. It must have been stored in my lungs, or perhaps it found shelter within the fatty tissue of my ass.

I came back home and sat down on the couch. Then it hit me. It was huge. Several large logs and the nightmare was over. I even found Waldo and his chick on the crapper. [The fact that someone made millions off of that stupid “Where’s Waldo” concept made me want to drown myself in the toilet with my giant feces still afloat.]

Closing out the Weekend…

I c[r]apped off my weekend with some rest-stop coffee on the ride home, which hit my intestines immediately.

I bolted for the restroom, but all the stalls were occupied! I paced back and forth ready to pounce upon the first empty throne. Luckily, a dad quickly finished molesting his kid in the handicapped stall and vacated. I jumped inside and unleashed a single moist log. “Hmmm,” I thought. “Could this actually turn out to be a smooth and healthy session?”

My intestines quickly shot down that notion – in the form of an avalanche of excrement that contained no solid matter whatsoever.

The rest of the ride home couldn’t have been any more pleasant.

PART 1 – The JC Penny Plop

2004-11-24T14:24:00.000-05:00

November 20, 2004

CHERRY HILL, NJ – I needed to get a new raincoat, since I’ve needed one for a while, so I ended up in the Cherry Hill Mall. I had just eaten dinner and was feeling a little gassy from drinking Sam Adams all day. So I try on a few coats, then it hits me. I tried to fart it out, but the little brown fella felt like it was going to break containment as if he was a blitzing safety and my ass was the Houston Texans’ offensive line.

I spotted a restroom in the back of the Men’s department and decided not to risk another movement. The green and black marble colors were lovely – much cleaner than the food court bathroom. It was quick, small, and round. I thought I was good for the evening…

PART 2 – Bridget Jones’ Dookie-y

2004-11-24T14:23:00.000-05:00

November 20, 2004 (continued)

CHERRY HILL, NJ - So I headed to the Loew’s movie theater. I entered the crowded restroom intending to unleash no more than a short tinkle. But my stomach started growling when it saw the stalls, so I began a hopeless quest for a clean stall in a filthy restroom. I opened just about every door, until I came across a toilet with the seat up.

“Success!” I thought. I lowered the seat only to find that it was sprinkled with tinkle. But the mudslide had started to head towards daylight, so I had to act fast. I wiped the seat, then unloaded about half the roll of TP to pad the seat. What followed was about 5 long, splattery bursts of choco-ass flavored milkshake into the shallow bowl. The wipe was wet and messy.

Then I headed to the theater with a huge grin and empty intestines. Unfortunately, it was the wife’s night to pick the film. I knew it wouldn’t be pleasant, but had I known that the Bridget Jones’ Diary sequel was going to be this excruciating, I’d have stayed in the crapper and bobbed for corn in my stool for 2 hours.