Saturday, December 4, 2010

Profound Discharge #11 (Dan)

Well, it's about that time of year again. No, not time to let that girl out of the pit in your basement- I'm talking about the holidays, of course! Usually this time of the year is spent with family you love and family you can somewhat tolerate.

I wouldn't look forward to hanging out with Uncle Buck either.

Usually, whenever me and my cousins wanted to escape hanging out with our older relatives, we'd sneak off one at a time to the basement (to not be suspicious) so we could play video games and throw action figures at each other. Now that we're all older and don't see each other at the holidays as much, I've had to come up with ways to get away from my older relatives and their borderline racist comments about "that black fella that you hang out with."

This is Dante and he's awesome.

So what I've come up with are routine bathroom breaks that my brother (not Dante- my actual brother) has dubbed, in honor of the holidays, Saintly Shits.

Saintly Shits are breaks to not necessarily do your business, but to just get the fudge out of dealing with your relatives for about 7 or 8 minutes at a time every hour. And when I say every hour, I mean every hour. Unfortunately, this means that in order make the facade believable you have to stay hydrated. Which is fine because sometimes you want to give yourself a treat by sitting down when you pee.

Boy, that must be one relieving piss!

In the periods of pleasantry when you're in the bathroom, you don't even have to do yer doody. Half the time when I'm in there, I catch up on the progress I've made in trying to read James Joyce's Ulysses again. Or I'm texting.

Once you fight your way through dinner with the help of the Saintly Shits method, you can escape to the basement until you get called back up for dessert.

A delicious reward for dealing with your family.


Tuesday, November 2, 2010

Profound Discharge #10 (Chris)

Thank you. You know who you are. And believe me, you are thanked by those who empty their bowels around the world. I’m speaking, of course, to the people who kindly leave reading materials within arm’s length of the toilets in their homes. These people truly understand the mundane nature of taking another dump. Plus, I’m fairly certain that if I ever send Bob another text from the crapper, it’ll be the last thing I do.

Pictured: the last thing I’ll ever see. And yes, he will show up with a beer in hand.

These people, the angels of society, can, with one simple gesture, turn taking a dump from the least productive time in one’s life to one of the most productive times. There are a couple different types of reading materials that people tend to live in the bathroom. The most common is old magazines. While they are sometimes not the most interesting pieces of reading (we all know the Mets lose the 2000 Subway Series), they are still extremely useful for passing the time.

Living Mets legend Benny Agbayani.

Even better, however, are those people who will leave some sort of book designed for this exact purpose. For those of you who are confused, yes, there are actually works of literature floating around out there compiled specifically to be left around the commode. These books are generally just a haphazardly thrown-together assortment of random facts and mini-stories that don’t form anything close to a cohesive plot, but good lord can they be entertaining. Did you know that the first known contraceptive was crocodile dung, used by the Egyptians some 4000 years ago? Well now you do.

Slightly more expensive than Trojans.

It’s almost like Christmas when you head over to some new place you’ve never before been, and find one of these gems waiting for you. Granted, the gift you give in return is even worse than coal, but at least it’s not going in someone’s stocking… normally. If you get lucky enough to run into someone who does this, and are comfortable enough with them to discuss scatological matters, please please please for the love of all that is holy thank them.

Scatological matters in the 1920s.

Consider doing something similar for your own bathroom. When people visit you, they will appreciate it nearly as much as you appreciate when other people do. Not quite as much though, because chances are they don’t visit a poop blog. These are especially helpful after a night of eating at a nearby Arby’s, and then going…anywhere.


Saturday, October 9, 2010

Profound Discharge #9 (Dan)

As I'm sitting here, typing this out, I'm at home, drunk off my balls, watching Comedy Central and chomping on a Grilled Stuffed Burrito from the unholy eatery known as Taco Bell. Mid-bite, I have now realized that in about 3 hours, I'll probably be feeding the Porcelain Lord his brown sacrifice.

Roughly $9.47 worth of bad decisions...delicious bad decisions.

And that got me to thinking: which eatery gives you the worst possible shits, despite that temporary food satisfaction? I've got it on a list of stars. One star means that you'll be thinking to yourself "Oh, this is a normal shit. This isn't that bad." Five stars is "SWEET MOTHER OF CHRIST IT'S LIKE A FIRE HOSE SPRAYING UNHOLY THINGS OUT OF MY ASSHOLE."

This is the third time I've used this image, but fuck you- it's useful.

Let's see where your favorite place lies on the scale!

McDonald's: * * *
Let's kick it off with the head honcho of the fast food world. When I used to do construction work, near our sites there would be a fast food place, usually a McDonald's, so I'm an unofficial expert on their value menu. If you stick with their "burgers" (most of the menu) you won't experience too bad of a pooping episode. However, their chicken and newer Angus-sponsored items will make you beg the Lord for mercy to relieve you of the pain your anus is delivering you. The fact that Angus would put their stamp of approval on these abominations is abhorrent.

Wendy's: * * * *
Literally everything on the menu at Wendy's is coated in delicious, salty, tangy grease. Even the Buffalo Chicken Tenders. And that's where they get you- as tasty as it is, your shit will have the consistency (but not color) of extra pulpy orange juice. Fuck you, Dave Thomas.

Burger King: * * 1/2
The burgers at Burger King are actual 100% beef (I'm not lying- I asked to see a package the patties came in) and they're cooked well to well-done, so there's no worry about their burgers getting you sick at any point. Their chicken tenders/sandwiches taste like rubber, but you won't get sick off of them. The big killer are their fries- artificially grown potatoes with artificial salt (Mrs. Dash, not real salt). And for me, fries are a big part of the fast food experience, so that instantly tacks on another star to their score.

Checkers: * * * 1/2
I have only 4 words for you: bacon cheddar cheese fries.

Chick-fil-A: *
This is entry is a bit different because it's region exclusive. Chick-fil-A is almost only in the South and a few stray places in Maryland and New Jersey. It's one of the few reasons I regret not still living in Georgia- it is to the South what Stewart's is to upstate New York. Everything on their menu is fried in natural peanut oil and is comprised of systematically, perfectly cooked chicken. Their lemonade is literally just lemon juice/pulp, water and sugar. I put that single star up there for the simple fact that I can't fucking drink lemonade- lemon and oranges make me shit water for days no matter what I do.

KFC: * * * 1/2
I know that it's incredibly white trash of me to admit this, but I don't give a damn: I love KFC. I genuinely love it more than certain members of my family. The chicken skin with the spices...[wipes away drool]...if they sold that stuff by the bucket, that would be my last meal if I was on Death Row. That being said, the sides are what kill you. The potatoes- that white mound of gravy soaked clouds come out of your ass as white as snow (which is horrifying- YOUR POOP SHOULD NOT BE WHITE). The biscuits- hockey puck shaped things so buttery and wonderful quickly turn into lesser demons Satan has sent to gnaw at your innards. I could go on, but I think you get the idea- chicken good, side dishes bad. Same rules apply to Church's Chicken joints and Popeye's.

Taco Bell: * * * * 1/2
It's Americanized Mexican food. It'll make anyone crap their drawers within a few hours after consumption. The only saving grace on the menu are those Cinnamon Twist thingies. Those don't make you shit yourself and when you're drunk, they taste as heavenly as an angel's twat.

White Castle: no stars
You think I'm kidding, right? Nope. I've been stoned so bad I swore I could feel my teeth breathing, eaten a full Crave Case with fries, and woken up the next morning to have a perfectly normal poop of slightly above average size and consistency. You'll just have a stomach ache because of how much food your dumb, stoned/drunk ass just ate. Of course, this was back when I did drugs every weekend and drank like a fish, so naturally I enjoyed eating really terrible food. These days, I can't fathom ever eating at White Castle ever again.

Chipotle: * * * *
South Park got it right- it'll make you feel like you pooped so hard that your asshole tore itself in half.

Arby's: * * * * * 1/2
Name something on the Arby's menu that won't make you unleash an amount of feces to rival the stuff described in the Book of Revelations- I dare you. I double dare you. Wait- I'm gonna go grade school on this- I TRIPLE DOG DARE YOU. The extra half star on the perfect score is simply to remind you that you were stupid enough to eat at a goddamn motherfucking Arby's.

Hope this helps you in your food-oriented endeavors, folks. Now I think I'm gonna take a Taco Bell approved megadump and have another beer.


Sunday, September 12, 2010

Profound Discharge #8 (Chris)

Liquorshits are a troublesome beast indeed. In fact, all alcohol-related defecation festivities are far from a joy, minus the waves of relief that wash over you like Katrina aftermath. If that was too soon, then go to hell.

However, not all liquorshits are created equally. Certain liquors will give your bowels a worse runaround than others will. Since Dan so eloquently covered the majestic powers of beershits, please bear with me as I try to run through some of the more common liquorshits.

Probably the most infamous of the liquorshits is the whiskeyshit. Jack Daniels is the usual culprit, but far from the worst of the perpetrators. If you really want to feel some pooey magic, then you’ll have to imbibe some Wild Turkey. That stuff will make you feel like that dude from The Meaning of Life right after he eats that wafer-thin mint.

For those of you unfamiliar with the analogy, he explodes.

But, the point stands that your morning after will feel more hectic than a maybe-preggo chick’s. You’ll wake up and literally fly to the bathroom, which you will look back in hindsight as a fairly amazing accomplishment, considering the destruction you just left in the toilet bowl. Anyways, you’ll plop your buttocks firmly on the seat, hopefully with at least a quarter roll of TP close by, and all Hiroshima will break loose. Whiskeyshits actually have cemented themselves as the most-beershit-like of all liquorshits, so if you’re used to beershits in the morning, then these will not be much of a departure.

Rumshits are a slightly different beast. Actually, I take that back. Rumshits are an entirely different beast. Whereas whiskeyshits will have you running to the bathroom first thing, going “Oh god oh god ohgodohgodohgod” the entire way, rumshits will simply make you feel like you don’t want breakfast.

Unless, of course, there’s bacon involved.

So you’ll bum around your house for a while, watch some TV, catch up on the college football scores you missed. It’ll probably be around 12:30 and 1 when you’ll be sitting at your computer and all of a sudden get a somewhat familiar feeling. It’s coming. The poopin’ time is nigh. So then you bust your ass (although hopefully not literally) to the nearest commode and prepare to unleash Nagasaki on the unsuspecting porcelain. However, unlike those pesky whiskeyshits, these rumshits won’t leave you with streaks of fecal decay running down your legs. Rumshits, while no less urgent than whiskeyshits, are a generally more solid output, and will bring a much more immediate feeling of relief than whiskeyshits.

The final type of liquorshit I’m gonna cover here is vodkashits. If I didn’t cover your favorite liquor, it breaks down like this. Tequilashits are generally nonexistent. If you have tequila, it’s coming making a round trip, no one-way ticket for that stuff. If you have scotchshits, you’re doing it wrong. And fuck gin.

Vodkashits may, at first, seem like the tamest of all the shits, but don’t be fooled by their mild beginnings. Vodkashits are kinda like Magikarp. They’re kinda useless and boring at first, but before you know it, you’ve essentially got a giant dragon worm firing out of your ass.

YOURASS used SPLASH! Nothing happened…

The morning after imbibing in an unnatural amount of vodka (don’t be ashamed, we’ve all had that night), you’ll rush to the bathroom much like the whiskeyshits. But you’ll only pump out a couple droppings before feeling better. So you’ll stand up, wipe away whatever tiny amount was left in your Grand Canyon, and head out to start your day. Except an hour later you feel like you have to shit again. So you do. There’s a little more, but nothing to be concerned about. And then an hour later you have to shit again, and now it’s starting to get bad. Do you see where I’m going with this? Vodka, in all its Soviet glory, may actually be engineered to not allow capitalist Americans to get their necessary work done. Those Russians are clever bastards.

So there’s your liquorshits overview. If you disagree with me, piss off, and let me know about it in the comments, since all of you are registered blogspot users. All of you.


Monday, June 7, 2010

Profound Discharge #7 (Dan)

This is an ode to the most frequent form of shitting I produced as a college student: the beershit.

The beershit occurs usually the morning after a heavy drinking session. Your average college student is particularly vulnerable to the beershit, as is the entire nation of Ireland.

And to a lesser extent, Germany.

The beershit is a notoriously fickle, stubborn type of explosion. The morning after your heavy drinking session, and you're still wondering how you managed to walk all the way back to your apartment from some downtown bar safely, you feel dehydrated. You feel groggy. If you're lucky, you got laid and now feel a sense of shame and disgust.

More than anything, you feel like you have a giant water balloon made of poo and booze sitting right above your anus. It's one of those dire "I need to shit right now or bad things will happen" type of situations.

This is the go-to picture for said situation.

There is a rather large amount of toilet paper that gets used to clean up each fecal shotgun blast, so be prepared. On occasion, the relief will be so immense that your ankles will start shaking and sweating. Usually after you're done, your entire body will feel infinitely better immediately (it's like an anvil of malt and yeast has been magically evaporated from your intestines) and you're ready to start drinking again.

Usually, this cycle of drink/poo/relief is brought on solely by drinking beer. There are also whiskeyshits, but since I don't drink hard liquor anymore I'm not gonna write about it (Chris might- he's a big whiskey fan).

The beers to avoid drinking so you won't get incredibly nasty beershits are anything with "lite" in the title (Busch, Miller, Bud, etc.) and basically any form of malt liquor like Steele Reserve or Olde English. Stick with lagers, stouts and dark beer (Sam Adams, Guinness, Brooklyn Brown Lager, etc.) because the extra wheats and hops in them make them thicker, richer and not as liable to break down into a basic yeast/water combination that will mess with your bowels. I mean, it'll still break down to that eventually, but the results will not be as watery and acidic.

And thus, concludes my ode to the illustrious beershit.


Thursday, March 25, 2010

Profound Discharge #6 (Chris)

As someone who takes regular advantage of the porcelain god, I know there are many phrases that people can use to describe their need to defecate. I’ve used a number of them myself, usually when announcing my need to evacuate my bowels to a large group of people who have absolutely no interest in the matter (their loss). Some of the most infamous include “droppin’ a deuce”, “pushin’ out some food babies”, “dropping the Cosby kids off at the pool”, and “taking the Browns to the Super Bowl.” I am here to discuss the final of these.

Taking the Browns to the Super Bowl is a phrase heavily discussed between myself and housemate/resident cheapskate Danny “Jewbot” Rosenhaus. Usually, this discussion boils down to the validity of the phrase as a means for describing actually going to the bathroom. We have come to the consensus that the phrase should actually imply quite the opposite – trying to go to the bathroom but always managing to find new and hilarious ways to fail to do so. As such, taking the Browns to the Super Bowl should be a code phrase for constipation.

This is actually a Browns highlight from the last couple of years.

The Browns, in fact, have never actually been in the Super Bowl. Sure, they won some NFL Championships back in the 1950s before we had the Super Bowl, but since the advent of the biggest sporting event of the year in 1967, the Browns have been the complete portrait of failure. They’ve managed to do worse than the Buffalo Bills, which is actually an accomplishment.

The Browns are actually worse than this.

In conclusion, next time you’ve gotta sacrifice your digested eats to the porcelain god and feel the need to tell everyone around you your plans for doing so, stay away from taking the Browns to the Super Bowl. You’ll end up sitting there for a long time doing nothing. Maybe you’ll fall in. That would be a hilarious way to fail.


Tuesday, March 16, 2010

Profound Discharge #5 (Dan)

Throughout the history of popular culture, whether it's books, movies or music, there have been some incredibly memorable bathroom barons. Really- within the past 10 or 15 years, there has been a litany of amazing poo jokes seen in modern media. Without further ado, here are the 5 greatest people/characters to ever take a shit in the history of popular culture:

The 5 Greatest Shitters In Pop Culture History

#5: Charles Bukowski, legendary author and poet

If you've read anything that Bukowski has ever written, you know that the only thing that he loved more than drinking, psychedelics and fucking was taking a gigantic, satisfying dump. Chuck kicks off this list by being included, not just because he was the literary world's equivalent of a "man's man" after the death of the great Ernest Hemingway, but because of a quote. And it's one hell of a quote. It's a damned fine quote that anybody that's ever had at least one night of heavy drinking can relate to:

"There was nothing really as glorious as a good beer shit - I mean after drinking twenty or twenty-five beers the night before. The odor of a beer shit like that spread all around and stayed for a good hour-and-a-half. It made you realize that you were really alive.”

Now that's a quote you can set your watch to.

- - - - - - - - - -

#4: The Golgothan Shit Demon, from the film Dogma

Chris and I are both hardcore Kevin Smith fanboys, so this one is kind of a cheat. But really- it's a giant Satanic poop monster that flings lethal nuggets at people! He also spouts one of the worst lines I've ever heard in cinema:

"Not born, but shit into existence."

Before he gets killed by Silent Bob's portable Febreeze bottle, the Golgothan Shit Demon lays waste to a strip club by reducing almost everything in it to splinters. And that's before he covered everything in shit out of spite. Even before that, he mercilessly slaughters an entire gang of wannabe-Tupacs.

The Golgothan Shit Demon is so fucking hardcore that he makes Mr. Hanky look like Richard Simmons.

- - - - - - - - - -

#3: Slingblade, from the book/movie I Hope They Serve Beer In Hell by Tucker Max
(the guy in the picture is Jesse Bradford, who plays Slingblade in the IHTSBIH movie)

I've been a fan of Tucker Max's stories since my freshman year of college. Whether Max's stories of debauchery and decadence are completely fabricated and full of shit doesn't really matter; the main point is that I really really really wish I could meet his buddy, Slingblade.

Slingblade's humor is drier, sharper and even more caustic than Max's. With the interlude in the "Austin Road Trip" story, he truly cemented his position on this list. Long story short, Slingblade unleashes a load so enormous that it actually clogs a hotel toilet. Those toilets are designed to generate enough jet engine-esque pressure to suck a human infant headfirst through those pipes. And a skinny motherfucker like Slingblade made the toilet cower and shut down to the point where it "made demonic gurgling noises."


- - - - - - - - - -

#2: Paul Finch, from the film American Pie

Paul Finch is a personal hero of mine. And, to be honest, my admiration of this character goes even past the fact that the first three American Pie movies are guilty pleasures in my DVD collection.

It was the very beginning of eighth grade, at another new school when my family and I had finished adjusting to living in Georgia. I was sitting with some people during lunch, trying to be the friendly new kid and make some friends, when I suddenly had to go to the bathroom. And it wasn't one of those "It's gonna be alright- hold it in until the bell rings and just go before class!" type of shits either. This was a dire "This excrement is exiting your body one way or another, bitch!" kind of poop. So I sped to the closest bathroom that was near the cafeteria- the one in the teacher's lounge. I went in, dumped, felt relief wash throughout my body, wiped, flushed and exited...only to have five teachers and one of the superintendents staring at me in horror. I was so incredibly embarrassed that I almost started crying. Thank god I didn't get in any trouble, but I also had to endure jokes about my bowel movements up until well after Halloween.

My parents finally allowed me to watch/rent R-rated movies on my own by the end of eighth grade, and that's when I finally got to watch movies like Dogma and American Pie. Upon first viewing Paul Finch's frantic sprint/shuffle into the closest available bathroom to take care of his sudden burst of diarrhea, it made me feel better about that shitty (no pun intended) start to a new school. Then seeing that Stiffler intentionally guided Finch into a girl's bathroom to do his business in simply made it even funnier.

So I salute the character Paul Finch, for making me feel better about my first "├╝ber dump" experience. And in the end, he got the best closure out of anyone in the movie- he fucked Stiffler's hot MILF of a mom.

- - - - - - - - - -

#1: Life In General

Yes, Life is the biggest shitter in the history of popular culture. Think about it- how many movies or books or stories have you encountered where nothing ever seems to go the main character's way for no logical reason? That's life, folks. And it happens on a daily basis, and it shits all over us.

Seriously, the opening of every Legend Of Zelda game we've ever played when we were kids set us up for life. It basically told us "Life will shit all over you on a whim. Here's a sword."

Life will take the largest dump you can fathom and have it be in any direction. Whether it's in matters of friends, family, finances, love, school, work, sex, physical appearance or even if it's just giving you a cancerAIDS hybrid through an apple you finished eating, life shits all over you whenever it wants.

Life shits all over fictional characters too. There ya go.


Profound Discharge #4 (Chris)

Working as a substitute yesterday, I got time to reflect on one of the most satisfying dumps one can engage in. It may not top the open-door-jamming-to-tunes dump in overall quality, but it does provide its own unique sense of relief and accomplishment. I am talking, of course, of the forced express dump.
When you’re crunched for time but really need to clear the loading docks, a sort of panic can set in. This is especially true for teachers. The time afforded between classes in minimal, and sometimes you can’t just wait for that free period. You have to make a dash between classes and hope for the best.

While sitting to expel your brown matter in this particular case, there are always the panicked thoughts of “Will I make it?!” going through your head, as well as what the consequences of taking too long could be. Trying to remain calm is much easier said than done. As such, managing to get in, get unloaded, get clean, and get out in that 3-4 minute span brings about a sense of satisfaction that will brighten your mood for the remainder of the day.

Unlike the open door dump, which is easy to pull off given the right circumstances, the forced express dump is a dangerous game, so I cannot in good conscience go ahead and recommend trying it. However, should you find yourself in that precarious position, remember the satisfaction of completing the task at hand.


Monday, March 15, 2010

Profound Discharge #3 (Dan)

These are the things I think of when I'm drunk and on the can:

What if...

Mastodon are the new Metallica?
Lamb Of God the new Slayer?
Kings Of Leon the new Allman Brothers?
Jimmy Eat World the new Sunny Day Real Estate?
Muse the new Yes? (well nowadays they are)
Chevelle the new Helmet?
[insert indie band popular this month] the new Pavement?
[insert indie band popular this month] the new Wilco?
[insert indie band popular this month] the new My Morning Jacket?
[insert indie band popular this month] the new Talking Heads?
Dizzee Rascal the new Mos Def?
Pineapple Express the new Half Baked?
Wet Hot American Summer the new The Jerk?
Hot Rod the new Billy Madison?
Pirana 3-D the new Troll 2? (pfft- like that'll happen)
Pixar the new Pixar?
The Bourne series the new Die Hard?
[insert every other sci-fi movie from this decade] the new Blade Runner?
The Notebook the new Doctor Zhivago? (shut up- I love both of those movies)
Dave Chappelle's Killin' 'Em Softly the new Eddie Murphey: Delirious?
The Inbetweeners the new Freaks & Geeks? (yes, but it's British)
Glee the next...oh who the fuck am I kidding?

Let me know what you think. I gotta poop again.


Sunday, March 14, 2010

Profound Discharge #2 (Chris)

I am more than willing to admit that I am lazier than most. Far lazier, perhaps, would be a more accurate descriptor. As such, there are times when I really just don’t feel like taking a dump. Chief among these times is when a really rockin’ tune comes on. No, I’m not talking about the latest Ciara single. No one cares. I’m talking about timeless classics. All you really want to do is lean back and rock the hell out, but you’ve got last night’s dinner ready to get the hell out of Dodge.

For anyone, this could be a major problem. Especially for those of us who are too poor or too stupid to live on our own. For one disparaging collegian, the number of times a good song has been interrupted for a bowel evacuation is nigh uncountable (I ran out of fingers). However, times like this upcoming week provide a unique opportunity. The college is on spring break, but I didn’t head home. Oh no, not me. I plan on taking full advantage of the opportunity that I no longer have to close the door. Not only do I get a solid crosswind to take care of the stink (this can only go so far), but I can continue to rock out without having to worry about disturbing anyone else. It’s like rocking out with your cock out, except instead of a penis, it’s your own meadow muffin. Next time you’re feeling a big one, get everyone else in your general vicinity to go to a nearby park or something and try this magic. It’ll calm your soul.


Profound Discharge #1 (Dan)

So Chris and I were talking about how great the movie Little Giants was back in the day. If you haven't seen it, it's about a ragtag pee-wee football team that overcome incredible (and hilarious) obstacles to defeat their seemingly bigger, stronger rivals, the Cowboys. The Little Giants also had a bratty tomboy named Becky "The Icebox" O'Shea as their fullback. She used to look like THIS. Now she looks like THIS.

The other movie that we thought of that was similar to Little Giants was The Replacements. It's virtually the same story except there's no girl that plays football. Instead, there are cheerleaders doing stripper dances and Keanu Reeves being frequently yelled at by Gene Hackman.

The more we compared the two movies, the more we found they had in common: similar story, similar coaches, similar character stereotypes, etc. Then we realized...

The Little Giants grew up to be The Replacements.
Once you've let that thought sink in, feel free to do your best Keanu Reeves "whoa" impression.