I take long poops… Deal with it America

 

 

I was so mature at 21.

I know I’ve already discussed my annoyance with the lowbrow comedy of farting, (only small children and idiots think farts are funny) but now I would like to move on to a more refined topic and that is pooping.  I feel that if I play my cards right someone might just nominate me for a Pulitzer for tackling these oft neglected topics.  No one ever wants to talk about dropping D’s, but we all do it at least once a day (hopefully) and sometimes more (unfortunately).  I would honestly probably put pooping up there in my top 5 favorite activities. I don’t find many things more enjoyable than when I’m at home on a Sunday morning after I’ve finished my coffee and I have a fresh Outside magazine with a hard level of angry birds to tackle.  The icing on the cake is if I have no commitments that day whatsoever.  I can sit comfortably on my throne for as long as I wish with no fear of interruption.  

 I say no fear of interruption because more often than not, this happens.  I was once scolded by a senior military officer for taking too long of a dump in one of the only porcelain potties on our base.  In my defense, he was an asshole and I kept it to under 10 minutes while I finished up the Stars and Stripes crossword puzzle.  I know all of you are familiar with road rage, but for those of you who haven’t been deployed to combat there is something even more terrifying and that is poop rage.  Our bases overseas are at max capacity and thousands of soldiers needing to poop under the stress of combat makes some people angry.  But I digress.

My bowel movements last on average 36 minutes.  My girlfriends are 3.6 minutes.  I think she feels that the quicker she goes the less likely we are to suspect she’s blowing out the plumbing. I actually developed my time consuming habit because of how lazy I was in high school.  I could easily waste a half hour of biology class taking care of business and during the summers my dad would pay me to clear brush on our property. He had a policy that bathroom breaks could be as long as necessary.  I quickly took advantage of this and would frequently clock an hour on the potty reading magazines, putting puzzles together, and eating sandwiches.  

 For all the pleasure I take in losing 2.5 pounds once a day, I really do make sure to count my blessings and thank god I am on a steady schedule.  You see, I have a close friend, Jim Swett (this is an alias he requested I give him in return for sharing his depressing story), who has a pooping predicament.  His system is all messed up and no one really knows why.  He once told me that he’s had upwards of two cameras up his ass and they’re still not sure what the problem is.  He travels with an exercise ball, so that on pit stops he can lay on it to fart, apparently he can’t burp and all his gas must pass out the back door.  After he found a steady girlfriend who was willing to deal this shit show (no pun intended), I told him he should lock her down.  

Once, during a road trip we were on he had to stop in the middle of the Nevada desert to “drop the kids off at the sandbox.”  I, of course, did what any good friend would do in a situation like this and added more stress to his mid-Nevada desert bowel movement by taking pictures.  (On a side note, I believe this is the fundamental difference between men and women, a woman would have felt bad for him and took pity.  My only thought however, was how I could make his situation more uncomfortable) The photos of Jim Swett’s white ass glimmering in the Nevada sun can be seen below

 

I blurred Jim Swett’s face to conceal his real identity.

Later on in our trip, we were staying at our friend Geiger’s house in Park City and pre-gaming before going out on New Years Eve.  Geiger’s roommate had some friends from L.A. at the house with a few hot broads in tow.  We were all dressed to the 9’s and feeling good about life, all that is except one…

Prior to this trip I was relatively unaware of Jim Swett’s predicament and did not know he traveled with an exercise ball to help him fart at his leisure. I had went downstairs to take a leak and when I came up the stairs Jim Swett was positioned behind the pool table out of view from the rest of the party, he was draped across the medicine ball looking like a yogi in the down dog position.  Our eyes locked and in my momentary confusion I did not sound the alarm.  Just as I was about to alert the rest of the party as to what Jim Swett was up to, he begged me like a POW to spare his social life.  I’m still not sure why I took pity on him in this fragile moment, but the shame in his words somehow resonated with me and I, for once, refrained from embarrassing my good friend.

 There’s nothing more stressful than being away from home base and having to “drop the kids off at the pool” or in Jim’s case, the desert.  My Uncle Mike recently explained to me his policy of using hotel lobby bathrooms when he’s on the road.  This really is a genius plan that I’ve now added to my repertoire.  

 I had a friend, Watters, that would make himself a little nest in high school when he had to do business, he was literally “shit break” off of American Pie.  If myself or my buddy, Miller, suspected he was making a nest we would wait for him to get perched and then rain wet paper towels down on his pooping parade.  Once again, we are jerks and we can’t help it. 

 Probably the most feared situation of all is crapping your pants as an grown adult.  I honestly can say this has not happened to me, but I have “Sharted” myself twice and both were when I was already in the bathroom.  I have a friend Max, who told me his policy is that is if it takes more than two wipes he immediately goes to the shower.  I thought that was pretty fair.

 I once bonged a beer while pooping as a 21-year-old dipshit in flight school (depicted above).  I’d like to think that I may have been the first person to ever pull this off, but I’m sure there’s another jackass who was as forward thinking as I was.

The biggest problem there is with taking a half hour dump is standing up after it’s over and having your legs go numb.  My friend Julian just informed me of a new purchase he made which is the squatty potty. It’s a product that supposedly puts you in a better position to take a quicker dump.  I tried it at his house last weekend and I’m still not quite ready to buy stock in this.

 

This guy looks so happy, it must work.

Taking a poop is probably the most vulnerable we as humans, in the year 2014, can be, that’s probably why I take so much joy in pooping undisturbed.  This is what my ancestors worked so hard for.  Can you imagine the stress those bearded bastards must have felt hugging a tree while pinching a loaf?  Any minute a pack of wolves could have disrupted the whole operation.  When I think of my cavemen ancestors and Jim Swett, I have a greater appreciation for my Sunday dumps and I hope you all do too now.