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Survival Guide for Taking a Dump at Work.

Memorize these definitions and pooping at work will become a pure pleasure.

ESCAPEE: A fart that slips out while taking a leak at the urinal or forcing poop in a stall. This is usually accompanied by a sudden wave of panic/embarrassment. This is similar to the hot flash you receive when passing an unseen police car & speeding. If you release an escapee, do not acknowledge it. Pretend it did not happen. If you are standing next to the farter at the urinal, pretend that you did not hear it. No one likes an escapee, it is uncomfortable for all involved. Making a joke or laughing makes both parties feel uneasy.

JAILBREAK (Used in conjunction with escapee): When forcing a poop, several farts slip out at a machine gun's pace. This is usually a side effect of diarrhea or a hangover. If this should happen do not panic, remain in the stall until everyone has left the bathroom so to spare everyone the awkwardness of what just occurred.

COURTESY FLUSH: The act of flushing the toilet the instant the nose cone of the poop log hits the water and the poop is whisked away to an undisclosed location. This reduces the amount of air time the poop has to stink up the bathroom. This can help you avoid being caught doing the WALK OF SHAME.

WALK OF SHAME: Walking from the stall, to the sink, to the door after you have just stunk-up the shitter. This can be a very uncomfortable moment if someone walks in and busts you. As with all farts, it is best to pretend that the smell does not exist. Can be avoided with the use of a COURTESY FLUSH.

OUT OF THE CLOSET POOPER: A colleague who poops at work and is damn proud of it. You will often see an Out of the Closet Pooper enter the bathroom with a newspaper or magazine under their arm. Always look around the office for the Out OF THE CLOSET POOPER before entering the bathroom.

THE POOPING FRIENDS NETWORK (PFN): This is a group of coworkers who band together to ensure emergency pooping goes off without incident. This group can help you to monitor the whereabouts of OUT OF THE CLOSET POOPERS and identify SAFE HAVENS.

SAFE HAVEN: A seldom used bathroom somewhere in the building where you can least expect visitors. Try floors that are predominantly of the opposite sex. This will reduce the odds of a pooper of your sex entering the bathroom.

TURD BURGLAR: A pooper who does not realize that you're in the stall and tries to force the door open. This is one of the most shocking and vulnerable moments that occur when taking a dump at work. If this occurs, remain in the stall until the TURD BURGLAR leaves. This way you will avoid all uncomfortable eye contact. TURD BURGLARS have been know to cause premature pinchage, which inevitably causes you to pinch one off in the middle.

CAMO-COUGH: A phony cough which alerts all new entrants into the bathroom that you are in a stall. This can be used to cover-up a WATERMELON or to alert potential TURD BURGLARS. Very effective when used in conjunction with an ASTAIRE.

ASTAIRE: This is a subtle toe-tap that is used to alert all potential TURD BURGLARS that you are occupying a stall. This will remove all doubt that the stall is occupied. If you hear an ASTAIRE, leave the bathroom immediately so the pooper can poop in peace.

WATERMELON: A turd that creates a loud splash when hitting the toilet water. This is also an embarrassing incident. If you feel a WATERMELON coming on, create a diversion. See CAMO-COUGH.

HAVANA OMELET: A load of diarrhea that creates a series of loud splashes in the toilet water. Often accompanied by an escapee. Try using a CAMO-COUGH with an ASTAIRE.

UNCLE TED: A bathroom user who seems to linger around forever. Could spend extended lengths of time in front of the mirror or sitting on the pot. An UNCLE TED makes it difficult to relax while on the crapper, as you should always wait to drop your load when the bathroom is empty. This benefits you as well as the other bathroom attendees.

FLY BY: The act of scouting out a bathroom before pooping. Walk in, check for other poopers. If there are others in the bathroom, leave and come back again. Be careful not to become a FREQUENT FLYER. People may become suspicious if they catch you constantly going into the bathroom.

DEFENTIONS OF Poop

· GHOST Poop: The kind where you feel the Poop come out, but there is no Poop in the toilet.

· CLEAN Poop: The kind where you Poop it out, see it in the toilet, but there is nothing on the paper.

· WET Poop: The kind where you wipe your butt 50 times and it still feels un-wiped, so you have to put some toilet paper between your butt and your underwear so you don't ruin them with a stain.

· SECOND WAVE Poop: This happens when you're done Pooping and you've pulled your pants up to your knees, and you realize that you have to Poop some more.

· POP-A-VEIN-IN-YOUR-FOREHEAD-Poop: The kind where you strain so much to get it out, you practically have a stroke.

· LINCOLN LOG Poop: The kind of Poop that is so huge you're afraid to flush without first breaking it into little pieces with the toilet brush.

· GASSEY Poop: It's so noisy, everyone within earshot giggles.

· DRINKER Poop: The kind of Poop you have the morning after a night of drinking. Its most noticeable trait is the skid marks on the bottom of the toilet.

· CORN Poop: (Self-explanatory)

· GEE-I-WISH-I-COULD-Poop-Poop: The kind where you want to Poop, but all you do is set on the toilet and fart a few times.

· SPINAL TAP Poop: This is when it hurts so badly coming out you'd swear it was leaving you sideways.

· WET CHEEKS Poop: (The Power Dump). The kind that comes out of your butt so fast, your butt cheeks get splashed with water.

· LIQUID Poop: The kind where yellowish-brown liquid shoots out of your butt and splashes all over the toilet bowl.

· MEXICAN Poop:It smells so badly that your nose burns.

· UPPER CLASS Poop: The kind of Poop that has no odor.

· THE SURPRISE Poop: You are not at the toilet because you think you are about to fart but...oops...a

· Poop!!! THE DANGLING Poop: This Poop refuses to drop into the toilet even though you know you are done Pooping it. You just pray that a shake or two will cut it loose.

What a load of shite.

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Had a quiet night in last night with the lads, a few bottles of beer, some curry and a three litre bottle of Frosty Jacks cider.

When I went to sleep I had two dreams. One was that dream you get when you've been on the sauce where you're drinking gallons of water but you're still extremely thirsty, and the other was a dream that I was spinning faster and faster, getting more and more dizzy. It was probably written on the wall by this point that this wouldn't end well for me.

I woke up with a thumping headache, a sand paper mouth and a heavy stomach. I went for the bathroom and drank some water from the tap (someone was sleeping in the living room and I didn't wish to disturb them). As soon as I'd downed the water the rumbling started, I rushed for the seat and instantly started shitting everywhere. It was properly like a shit from a comedy film, the farts sounded like they had microphones and the shit just kept coming. Finally it stopped, and I dared to look down and inspect the damage.

The first thing I noticed was how much shite I'd produced, and how vile it looked. Mountains of crap practically touching my arse, covered in a thin layer of jobby juice. Then the smell hit me, my god the smell. Think of the five worse smells you've ever smelt, topped off with a bit of chicken chasni, and you might be close. It was at that disgusting moment when everything inside me that hadn't evacuated my arsehole headed north. I thought "I better not throw up" and BANG, before I knew it I had projectile vomited curry and Frosty Jack flavoured sick all over myself. Here I was with inhumane jobby inches from my ring and horrible vomit running down my legs, "this is a low moment for me" I thought.

After spending ages cleaning up the sick (and my hoop), I went for the shower. I was in there for about 30-40 minutes, but whilst I could get the smell off myself, unfortunately my memories weren't washed away. I have to say though I feel great now. Apart from the fact that I won't be able to look at myself in the mirror for a few weeks and the smell is permanently ingrained in my soul, that was a proper detox shit. I actually think the great escape from my mouth and arse has resulted in me losing about half a stone and all.

I can feel another one coming on, wish me luck.

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Let me paint the picture (before I show you the picture) for you ...

It was my pals 19th and I had a pre-night out get together at my house. In knowing this i stocked up on some beer and brought out booze i already had, namely 2 x 1l bottles of Jagermeister ... Also, the mother made one of the finest chicken curries I will ever enjoy ...

The lads (roughly 9 or 10 of them, including 2 females) came round at 7 and I booked a 7 seater taxi and a normal taxi for 9:15pm ...

I started lightly on Coronas and lime, after 4 of these, vodka was the next big hitter - a quarter bottle of Glens finest mixed with only one measly can of Tesco energy drink that my pal brought. By this point I was reasonably drunk, then there was a shout of 'Lets do jäger bombs.'

12 jäger bombs later the taxi appears and my mind goes blank until the Sunday morning ...

Sunday morning arrives, I wake up, my head is absolutely pounding, the first though is what the f**k happened last night, quickly followed by my arse is agony ...

I look at my phone - 43 texts, 12 missed calls and 8 voicemail messages.

Then it all started coming back to me, I went for a shit in Cape (a pub in Stirling). Now I never take a shit when I'm out as my pals are the kind of people who will kick the door in when your boxers are at your ankles ...

Next thing I get an urge for another shit - immediately I think 'f**k this is gonna hurt' ...

So while I'm shitting, I start going through my messages and voicemails. Now this shit came pouring out and left the worst possible pain my arsehole could have imagined. I finally get through my messages and decide to go on Facebook to see the carnage of the night before ...

Still shitting - 29 notifications ... '... Tagged you in a photo' ...

'eww' ... 'disgusting' ... 'I'm gonna be sick' was the general consensus from the comments ...

As they say, a picture paints a thousand words ...

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After failing to shite for five days, a time period which included, in no particular order, Chilli-con-carne, a Rogan Josh curry, a pizza and a considerable amount of vodka, i finally installed bathroom broadband after work today.

I won't go into any lengthy description, other than the fucker must have been over a foot long. Imagine a large upside-down question mark being placed in a toilet bowl, and you'll get the idea.

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Just going for one now, will report back to base.

Edit: nothing to report, it was textbook.

It seems like between declaring your need for a shit and coming back to tell everyone about it you were away for 25 minutes. Doesn't sound textbook to me.

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Walking back from the train station last night to Smiths hotel in Kirky, I was absolutely choking for a shite. Being inebriated at the time obviously led me to be a filthy c**t, and go and take a shite round the back of the Kirky minors which was shut at this point. Boxers down, trousers down, jobby taken. What I was going to use to wipe my arse didn't even cross my mind until I'd finished. Sure enough there was nothing that would've been comfortable enough to use nearby, so I admitted defeat in that sense although it was a solid shite so didn't think it'd need too much of a wipe.

Got to Smiths hotel and my arse started to get really itchy but I was enjoying myself far too much to care really.

After that point I can't really recall much except walking home eating a pretty disgusting kebab. Woke up this morning, sober, and my arse was awfully uncomfortable. Took my kegs down, to be greeted with the boxers being absolutely caked in shite. Opened my bedroom window and out ye go.

The moral of the story; I had been sitting in a hotel bar/club/shitehole place for about 2 hours not having a clue that I'd just shat myself. Maybe that's what drew the dirty looks off a few folk.

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Walking back from the train station last night to Smiths hotel in Kirky, I was absolutely choking for a shite. Being inebriated at the time obviously led me to be a filthy c**t, and go and take a shite round the back of the Kirky minors which was shut at this point. Boxers down, trousers down, jobby taken. What I was going to use to wipe my arse didn't even cross my mind until I'd finished. Sure enough there was nothing that would've been comfortable enough to use nearby, so I admitted defeat in that sense although it was a solid shite so didn't think it'd need too much of a wipe.

Got to Smiths hotel and my arse started to get really itchy but I was enjoying myself far too much to care really.

After that point I can't really recall much except walking home eating a pretty disgusting kebab. Woke up this morning, sober, and my arse was awfully uncomfortable. Took my kegs down, to be greeted with the boxers being absolutely caked in shite. Opened my bedroom window and out ye go.

The moral of the story; I had been sitting in a hotel bar/club/shitehole place for about 2 hours not having a clue that I'd just shat myself. Maybe that's what drew the dirty looks off a few folk.

Thats mankyhuh.gif

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Let me paint the picture (before I show you the picture) for you ...

It was my pals 19th and I had a pre-night out get together at my house. In knowing this i stocked up on some beer and brought out booze i already had, namely 2 x 1l bottles of Jagermeister ... Also, the mother made one of the finest chicken curries I will ever enjoy ...

The lads (roughly 9 or 10 of them, including 2 females) came round at 7 and I booked a 7 seater taxi and a normal taxi for 9:15pm ...

I started lightly on Coronas and lime, after 4 of these, vodka was the next big hitter - a quarter bottle of Glens finest mixed with only one measly can of Tesco energy drink that my pal brought. By this point I was reasonably drunk, then there was a shout of 'Lets do jäger bombs.'

12 jäger bombs later the taxi appears and my mind goes blank until the Sunday morning ...

Sunday morning arrives, I wake up, my head is absolutely pounding, the first though is what the f**k happened last night, quickly followed by my arse is agony ...

I look at my phone - 43 texts, 12 missed calls and 8 voicemail messages.

Then it all started coming back to me, I went for a shit in Cape (a pub in Stirling). Now I never take a shit when I'm out as my pals are the kind of people who will kick the door in when your boxers are at your ankles ...

Next thing I get an urge for another shit - immediately I think 'f**k this is gonna hurt' ...

So while I'm shitting, I start going through my messages and voicemails. Now this shit came pouring out and left the worst possible pain my arsehole could have imagined. I finally get through my messages and decide to go on Facebook to see the carnage of the night before ...

Still shitting - 29 notifications ... '... Tagged you in a photo' ...

'eww' ... 'disgusting' ... 'I'm gonna be sick' was the general consensus from the comments ...

As they say, a picture paints a thousand words ...

Never took me too the picture, actuallly quite gutted...

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  • 1 month later...

Had a fair few sharts before, worst one has to be in mass on a sunday morning after being out on the saturday, wasn't a massive one or anything like that but just the fact I had shite soiled my boxers in a place filled with old people and in such close proximity to my arse, it goes down as the worst one.. was stinking as well

another one was in college where i shat myself and cleaned it off my boxers and kept wearing them till I got home..

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Wee bit of advice for PnB, a valuable lesson I've learned this morning.

See if it's your first day on work placement and you want to make a good first impression, don't get off the bus half way there in Kincardine and Usain Bolt it to the nearest toilet for a violent outpouring of shite and a bit of a boke. If you do you will be back in your bed before midday and the people you're meant to be doing work placement for will probably think you're a bit of a c**t.

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Another Picolax story...

As a nurse on a surgical ward I was looking after an elderly female patient that had been prepped with Picolax for her surgery and as she stepped out of the nearby toilet cubicle she repeatedly muttered "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

I stepped into the aforementioned cubicle and noticed the pebbledashing effect she had left behind. Though most had landed on the walls I was most impressed by the quantity that had somehow managed to reach the ceiling!

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Another Picolax story...

As a nurse on a surgical ward I was looking after an elderly female patient that had been prepped with Picolax for her surgery and as she stepped out of the nearby toilet cubicle she repeatedly muttered "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

I stepped into the aforementioned cubicle and noticed the pebbledashing effect she had left behind. Though most had landed on the walls I was most impressed by the quantity that had somehow managed to reach the ceiling!

laugh.gif

Excellent

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i don't know the exact science behind this but my mums home-made lentil soup has caused the most catastrophic output i think ive ever experienced, lasted about an hour and a half. Only good point is i think ive lost about 2 stone

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