poop, Uncategorized

Everyone Poops

Everyone Poops (My Body Science) Cover 

Yesterday’s post generated some rather amusing comments, and we particularly enjoyed Andy Sweeney’s anecdote about a co-worker who pooped herself in a fender-bender. Then we began to wonder: Given the healthy appreciation many of our friends have for all things scatological, why not solicit everyone’s best story of public urination/defecation? (Or, if you’re Jenny McDevitt, the time you rolled around in poop in Washington, DC?)

But first, is anyone else puzzled as to why there’s an apple on the cover of Everyone Poops? We welcome theories as to what exactly that’s all about because, frankly, we have no idea.

To help you locate your excremental muse, here’s the story of Ben wetting himself in the first grade:

Mrs. Thompson was conducting a spelling test. I earnestly had to use the restroom. I understood the gravitas of a spelling test and how disruptive it would be to leave, but it got to the point where I simply could not hold it any longer. I raised my hand.

“Yes, Ben? Should I repeat the last word?”

“No, Mrs. Thompson. I need to use the potty.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Is it an emergency?”

It was. But the way she said emergency made me think: World War III? Nuclear winter? The apocalypse?

So I pressed on until I simply couldn’t hold it anymore. I remember seeing the yellow puddle at my feet spread out and Anita Gibboney whisper from the desk beside me, “Oh my God.” Mrs. Thompson called Mrs. Vore, and trusty mom delivered a fresh patch of Lee jeans and asked if everything was all right. I remember nodding solemnly. Later that day, sitting on the carpet for sharing time, Ben Langston sat down next to me. We had never really talked before but Ben smiled when he sat down. “What you did earlier today,” he said, “was really, really cool.”


Now it’s your turn. Amaze us with your embarrassing bodily dysfunctions and your impressive dexterity at walking the fine line between gross and utterly tasteless. Some of us might be eating at our computers.

If you are too embarrassed to relate a personal story, simply say it happened to an old co-worker of yours, as we suspect Andy probably did.

Now go comment! Don’t forget about the apple.


DISCLAIMER: If you are someone for whom digestive difficulties are no laughing matter, Activia may be for you.


8 thoughts on “Everyone Poops

  1. Voreblog continues to expand the boundries on what a blog is, or can do. From GK Chesterton to piss and poop jokes, only one blog could get away with it: Voreblog. You’re the Rabelais of blogs.

    I will work on a pee/poop story, but I think the apple is meant to signify the benefits of fiber in facilitating the aforesaid poopin’.
    Or perhaps a scatological comment on the Genesis narrative?

  2. It seems no matter how many ways I make the world a better place, my legacy extends no further than the DC poop story.

    As for the apple, I agree with Mark Hoobler. Anyone who was ever at summer camp when the kids drank too much apple juice will support this theory.

    Lastly: I, too, wet my pants in first grade. It coincided nicely with a girl named Justine throwing up all over her blue sweater.

    It was a rough day for our teacher.

  3. I have a dog and a one-year-old…I spend my day policing the pooping and peeing of various critters.

    Since my daughter isn’t old enough to know I talk about her on the Internet, I could tell you about the time on vacation she had a “Caddyshack” incident at bathtime and was afraid of the tub for the rest of the trip…or the diaper blow-out so heinous it required the use of the garden hose…I’m sure there are more, I’ve just blocked them out of my mind.

  4. When you’re sliding into first and ya feel your stomach burst, diahrea. Diahrea.
    When you’re sliding into second and you think you just cant make it, diahrea. Diahrea.
    When you’re sliding into third, out comes a big wet turd, diahrea. Diarhea.
    And your sliding into home here comes the poop with a loud moan. Diarhea!

    just wanted to join in the poop fun.

  5. Once upon a time I was having lunch at Don Pablos with another gentleman. Let’s call him Mr. X. We finished our meal and our server, who was friends with Mr. X, asked if we wanted to join him outside while he had his cigarette break. As we stood behind the restaurant and chatted, our server hiked his leg to pass gas. Like the young men we were at the time, Mr. X and I enjoyed a hearty laugh.

    Apparently Mr. X took this as a challenge and decided to respond with his own fart. Mr. X hiked his leg, curled his face into a sly sneer, and tried to push out a juicy toot. He had almost succeeded when his eyes shot open and he looked into my face with an expression of terror. We locked eyes, and then I followed his gaze down toward his foot just in time to see little droplets of poop fall out the leg of his shots onto his foot.

    Our eyes rose to meet each other and Mr. X’s face changed from horror to defeat. “I just shit my pant,” he said dejectedly. I nodded and said, “you’re going to have to sit on some newspaper on the way home.” He nodded his agreement and with underwear full of poop, finished his cigarette before we left.

  6. Don Pablos again – questionable fajitas, bouncing in the car seat on the way home, running up three, yes three flights of stairs and spraying the wall – we’ve all been there. Classic. Not to mention peeing on the bus whilst wearing corduroys in the third grade. Itchy. Or a certain relative of mine who carries wide mouth bottles in his car so he doesn’t have to stop while he’s driving somewhere (I will admit to this practice as well….sometimes it just makes sense – although it can get precarious if all you have is 20oz coke bottle…..corduroys). Presidential.

  7. 15 years old traveling home from a visit at my dads. The weather was cold and icy/snowy in Oklahoma and in Oklahoma when it’s icy and snowy there aren’t many places to pull off. I had been given a turd alert about 100 miles ago when we came into Tulsa. As my mom hurried to find a gas station that I could save myself in, I squirmed and squeezed, mustering the courage to withstand the oncoming attack. It was all to no avail though, as I was unable to hold off the push from within. Luckily my undies took the brunt of the attack and I was able to ditch them in the QuickStop bathroom’s trash. My sisters have never let me live it down.

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