Velociworld

You know, there is something liberating about shitting outside the confines of socially acceptable arenas.

That is the PC way of stating I have also shit my pants.

Aye, and as a person who has redecorated a public restroom in a restaurant in Shockoe Slip in Richmond in a lighter shade of brown, I can only salute the pants shitters of the world. We are legion, but generally not too talkative.

I shit my pants and blogged about it, too. I have no shame.

Aw, hell, I got so drunk one night I got up in the middle of the night and took a big steamin' crap in the middle of the damn room...

Then there was the incident involving a liter of cheap-ass vodka mixed with Sunny Delight in a one-gallon gatorade-style jug... When you make it up expecting two or three people to help you consume it and the other three fuckers don't step up to the plate, well...

That was quite possibly the nastiest condition I've ever woken up in. I didn't fill a shoe, I filled a sleeping bag. And this was camping, with a half-mile long walk to the fuckin' shower.

With a hangover that would have killed a mule. Twice.

Shitblogging. Heh.

Don't ever imbibe in blue legs and expect to have complete control over your farts. Tried to rip one at a party once. The blue legs interferred with the space time colon continuum. When I got up to slink to the bathroom, Dave T. said: "Man, you must have sat down in a big pile of dogshit. I went to the restroom in shame. I managed to scrub the skid marks off the swimming trunks, but the bvds were retired, behind the commode. After the cleanup, I finished out the experience intact.
Realize that this was the party house. When I visited one month later, the bvds were still stuck behind the commode.
Georgia Boy Stuck in the Frozen North

fuck i get a hard on when i take a dump in my pants