Men Gruntin while in the mens room
Discussion
Only fair I add a sorry tale of my own, from last week.
Usually (non-curry) crapping happens without event. Not so here. A few hours following a hearty dinner I felt the need to retire for a few moments in contemplation whilst listening to nature and reading a book. However this peace was shattered a few moments after I had rested on my pert rump by a small anal reveille. What sounded like an asthamtic 4-pot exhaust crescendoed in to a fanfare of ship horns. This was followed by farting gunfire quickly shepherded by deep rumbling sensation that signalled the arrival of what felt like a cannonball being fired towards an unsuspecting mouse-hole.
With what seemed like my arse cheeks being torn apart and the smell of a festering skunk on top of a box of rotting eggs emerging from a clime of eternal darkness I have no desire to visit, I summoned all the effort I could muster to urge the cannonball of doom to exit as quickly as it had made its presence known. A second of blissful silence. Then the sound of water making way for an object with which it does not wish to fight and a sudden shock as a sharp spike of cold water hit the peaches which had been forced asunder and my plums.
The pungent fly siren lacquered my nostrils. Whilst there was a window, it was cruelly out of reach. The pain made my eyes water and I wondered whether I could actually get up and walk again.
Fortunately the three blind mice that followed came and went without causing trouble. I completed the paperwork, flushed, brushed (the bowl was clean, but did so anyway) and washed hands before I opened the window, fanning the air as if it would make a difference. Satisfied the smell had dissapated, I meekly strolled out of the bathroom. I still ensured no-one used it during the next 10 minutes so no trace of eau de mouffette morte harmed anyone else.
Usually (non-curry) crapping happens without event. Not so here. A few hours following a hearty dinner I felt the need to retire for a few moments in contemplation whilst listening to nature and reading a book. However this peace was shattered a few moments after I had rested on my pert rump by a small anal reveille. What sounded like an asthamtic 4-pot exhaust crescendoed in to a fanfare of ship horns. This was followed by farting gunfire quickly shepherded by deep rumbling sensation that signalled the arrival of what felt like a cannonball being fired towards an unsuspecting mouse-hole.
With what seemed like my arse cheeks being torn apart and the smell of a festering skunk on top of a box of rotting eggs emerging from a clime of eternal darkness I have no desire to visit, I summoned all the effort I could muster to urge the cannonball of doom to exit as quickly as it had made its presence known. A second of blissful silence. Then the sound of water making way for an object with which it does not wish to fight and a sudden shock as a sharp spike of cold water hit the peaches which had been forced asunder and my plums.
The pungent fly siren lacquered my nostrils. Whilst there was a window, it was cruelly out of reach. The pain made my eyes water and I wondered whether I could actually get up and walk again.
Fortunately the three blind mice that followed came and went without causing trouble. I completed the paperwork, flushed, brushed (the bowl was clean, but did so anyway) and washed hands before I opened the window, fanning the air as if it would make a difference. Satisfied the smell had dissapated, I meekly strolled out of the bathroom. I still ensured no-one used it during the next 10 minutes so no trace of eau de mouffette morte harmed anyone else.
Edited by AppleJuice on Tuesday 21st August 14:47
OK so which is worse to endure:
You're at work. The toilet cubicles are the "standard" type where the traps don't have full-height doors and surrounds - enough to give you all the privacy you need visually, but nowhere near enough to hide the sounds and smells of any events.
1. Last night was "Team Curry night" and then you arrive at the office the next day, have a couple of cups of coffee to revive you and then at 10am, you feel the need.. and make a dash. What follows is a good 2 minutes of brown lava streaming out of you, followed by a further 10+ minutes of aftershocks splashing out, which you can still get a faint hint of tandoori spices and Kingfisher wafting through. Anyone unfortunate enough to come in at the same time will hear all of this going on - and smell it. However, a stroke of good fortune is that thanks to the primarily sauce- and liquid-based diet you'd had, everything has come out quite fast, and needs very little clean up time afterwards, just 3-4 rounds of paperwork and you're clean and ready to go, leaving just the unpleasant aroma to deal with.
or
2. Everything seems normal. You then have to attend to this "vital conference call" and head off to conduct your business in the appropriate place. You feel that wonderful sense of relief when everything is concluded with just one or two quick logs exiting and landing smoothly. You look forward to just a quick bit of paperwork before being able to stroll back to your desk without any suspicion being aroused. But no. Fate has worked against you, and after one wipe, you realise it appears that somehow, your intestines have produced a turd marker pen. No amount of wiping will reduce the amount showing up on every piece. You're reeling off paper all the time. Why do those industrial toilet paper dispensers make such a noisy, resonating sound? Anyone in the next cubicle has heard nothing landing in the water, but would be rightfully concerned for exactly how much of the Amazon rainforest you've needed to be cut down and pulped for this seemingly never ending wiping session. You complete at least two "courtesy flushes" just to stop the amassed wad of paper from clogging the u-bend but even this isn't enough. Shamefully, you eventually finish up - wishing you'd done this at home where you could do that thing where you use the shower head nozzle to wash your undercarriage - but you now leave a horrendous amount of bunged up paper filling the pan even after all the flushing.
You're at work. The toilet cubicles are the "standard" type where the traps don't have full-height doors and surrounds - enough to give you all the privacy you need visually, but nowhere near enough to hide the sounds and smells of any events.
1. Last night was "Team Curry night" and then you arrive at the office the next day, have a couple of cups of coffee to revive you and then at 10am, you feel the need.. and make a dash. What follows is a good 2 minutes of brown lava streaming out of you, followed by a further 10+ minutes of aftershocks splashing out, which you can still get a faint hint of tandoori spices and Kingfisher wafting through. Anyone unfortunate enough to come in at the same time will hear all of this going on - and smell it. However, a stroke of good fortune is that thanks to the primarily sauce- and liquid-based diet you'd had, everything has come out quite fast, and needs very little clean up time afterwards, just 3-4 rounds of paperwork and you're clean and ready to go, leaving just the unpleasant aroma to deal with.
or
2. Everything seems normal. You then have to attend to this "vital conference call" and head off to conduct your business in the appropriate place. You feel that wonderful sense of relief when everything is concluded with just one or two quick logs exiting and landing smoothly. You look forward to just a quick bit of paperwork before being able to stroll back to your desk without any suspicion being aroused. But no. Fate has worked against you, and after one wipe, you realise it appears that somehow, your intestines have produced a turd marker pen. No amount of wiping will reduce the amount showing up on every piece. You're reeling off paper all the time. Why do those industrial toilet paper dispensers make such a noisy, resonating sound? Anyone in the next cubicle has heard nothing landing in the water, but would be rightfully concerned for exactly how much of the Amazon rainforest you've needed to be cut down and pulped for this seemingly never ending wiping session. You complete at least two "courtesy flushes" just to stop the amassed wad of paper from clogging the u-bend but even this isn't enough. Shamefully, you eventually finish up - wishing you'd done this at home where you could do that thing where you use the shower head nozzle to wash your undercarriage - but you now leave a horrendous amount of bunged up paper filling the pan even after all the flushing.
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