CHINESE BUFFET OF DEATH

This was my coworker's last week at work. So before he sexually harassed everybody on his way out the door, I took him out for lunch. Like poltergeist from my past, of course he chose the all-you-can-eat Chinese Buffet. Back in the day I used to rule the Chinese Buffet like I rule the Spheres. This day it was different.

After loading up on a modest amount of plates of various meats and limited vegetables, the demons in my belly began singing in an impish chorus the likes of which have not been heard since Berlioz was writing music all hopped up on ether. 4 hours later the Dook finally struck. It wasn't a cataclysmic blow. However, he was quite lengthy and as he continued to leave, I preempted any plumbing issues by flushing. Afterward, I felt 3 pounds lighter and MUCH better.

Unfortunately, removing the obstruction uncorked the old-man broccoli spirits. I then spent the next 6 hours battling the most foul smelling, flower wilting, groan inducing gas. I'm not sure how exactly Chinese food is prepared. But I now know that it is not too far from the recipe for hotdogs, romlettes, or PBR.

Lorda'Mercy!

Pooplet's Game Face

Push, Pooplet, push!

April Golden Showers...

From the Vault:

I have been home for less than an hour and already had to make 4 trips to the can. trips 1, 2 and 3 were each of different consistencies. Trip 4 was basically an extension of 3, vomiting out the ass.lord, make it stop.

- The Constipator

From the blast chamber

I'm going to try and make this a regular occurance here, but since this site came about because of some classic emails, I'll transpose them here. Because sometimes, when you navagate the serious world deadlines and meetings, there are moments of hilarity and serenity. Because everything poops.

From our old friend The Big Lepoopski:

"I haven't pooed all weekend and finally had to reeeeaaaalllllly bad this morning. I mean, like turtle head poking out all freakin morning. But, a water pipe broke in the back, near the bathrooms and made sure people were back there all morning fixing the damn thing and then this stupid cinco de mayo party we are having had the entire branch in the break room (right near the toilet) for the last hour or so. Finally, after pinching it back for nearly three hours, I just had to do it. I seriously was about to poop my pants. And, of course, it stinks to high heaven and everyone sees me go into the bathroom and not come out for five minutes or so, and I'm sure the stink reeked through the hallway to the break room. On top of that, our toilet seems to grab poop and hold onto it like no other toilet I've ever come across so pretty much anytime anyone craps it leaves streaks like mad (I swear the toilet must be selling this crap on E-Bay the way it holds on to the streaks). Well, since I pretty much pooped out my entire lower intestine, the streak level was even higher than normal. Normally I would double flush, but with the entire branch within ear shot that was not an option, so I left it, with back wash floaters and streaks galore for the only other guy (who only works twice a week but happens to be in today) to use after he's finishing eating his meal. Seriously, it's like all of the poop Gods got together and had a good laugh at my expense today."

Pooplet's BMD

Bottom of Mass Destruction. The carnage below was filmed following the utterance of Friday's quote of the day.


'Splodin'!

Ahhh, the Grits Shit

Some poops smell better than others. Among my favorites is the camping poop. I wonder if having dirt in the food helps break up the evil of the poop, allowing the pure earthiness of the poop to shine through. Second on the list is the coffee and grits shit. The grits seem to have the same function as the dirt, providing the grist needed to prepare a perfectly pooptacular poop, of the right consistency and aroma. Truly one of the great pleasures of a summer Saturday morning.

-Hairy Potter

Logged via BrownBerry by AT&T

QUOTE OF THE DAY

Poopsie Daisy: "OK that does it! Just poop all over everything. OH, POOPLET!!"

Pooplet's Diaper of the Day

One of Pooplet's many expressions heralding the passing of the poo.


Today's poo of the day is rather liquid in consistency, though Pooplet shows no sign of illness. It's of an olive green shade reminiscent of a popular color of kitchen appliances in the 1980s (of which Poopsie Daisy had the pleasure of sharing a home with for many years).

I Will Survive!

The survivor. After two flushes, this little soldier still refuses to go down without a fight. I am waiting for the toilet bowl to fill again.

Hershey Potter

Sent via BrownBerry by AT&T

NASHVILLE STEAMER

Mark down June 17 as a landmark date. Today, Pooplet crapped on me twice. The worst part is she didn't even offer to pay for her meal.

CLOSET POOPING TIPS 1-4

The Prime Mover is a closet pooper and doesn't like to talk about his program. But with an alias, he can let it rip. Over the years I have picked up a few tricks to make blasting the dook at both the office or anywhere in public less of an ordeal of shame. Let me share a few pointers with you tonight.

1. Find the Highflow: I loves the new office because of the privacy, but when it comes to dropping a deuce, there are still problems. Luckily my new office has an older building attached with an old school 5 gallon tank. The Feds say it's murder on the environment. I says there is a time and place. These are denoted by their gargantuan tank atop what the government would consider a normal size bowl. The truth is, a big job calls for a big tool. Enjoy it if you can find it, because sometimes, it's the only hombre that can handle your job (please note there are a few 3 gallons out there still kickin' it from the tweener years before the tyranny of the 1.6).

2. The Give and Go: When I know that I could possibly be defiling the workplace for others I takes preemptive measures. As soon as I feel that log passing the threshold of no-return, I hit the flush. Hopefully that turd hits the whirlpool and between the exit velocity and the gravitational pull of your workstation, it will pull the ship down with minimal air contact. This technique does wonders for reducing the stink.

3. The Rambo: After a night of putting away Malt Liquor, Richards, and Mexican food, sometimes you have a Perfect Storm a brewin'. This is where you need to go all George W. and launch a preemptive war. As soon as you enter the bathroom, turn on the sink faucet and let the water run. If you're lucky, nobody shows up. Even better, you have an alternative noise to fool your coworkers as Moby and the Black Buddies of Death leave you in a funky fresh TechnoFest.

4. Vent that Shit, Dawg: Taking the above into consideration find a bathroom along the outerwall, particularly one with a window. This will vent your stink and when used in conjunction with a fan will give all your stink a place to go 24/7/365.

Of course this is for all y'all closeters that have to share the office with a bunch of uptight skirts that will make commentary of your lower intestinal disasters. If you have others, feel free to share...this is a safe place free from all judgment.

A MEASURE OF RELIEF

With an issue so diverse as pooping, it becomes important to measure and compare dooks in a way that is standardized for all loggers. Thus, I propose the Ashley's Scale. This would be a system that combines 2 elements measured on a five point scale.

The first would be a measure of size. If you run to the bathroom only to spit out a handful of rabbit pellets, it would not be as significant as evicting an entire brood of baby snakes.

The second measure would be relief. This would cover everything from the last minute decision to drop the brown buddies off to a life or death situation in which the sweat is pouring down your brow, and you are questioning if you can actually make it before you download the Starship Pooper.

An Ashley score should be displayed so that both numbers are obvious with a 1(1) being an event of little note, while 5(5) would make you question the existence of Sir Thomas Crapper. Obviously, like the GS Scale there will be room for debate, but the Ashley's Scale will at least offer a roll for demarcation in the colonologies to come.

More polite suggestions

If you are still sitting there, staring at your feet and doing some soul searching for a new name, here are some more ideas.

If you are into Sci-Fi, maybe something like:

Count Dookey
Dung Solo

If you are into politics, you might try:

Barack Poopama
John McWipe

If you love your gadgets:

Pee-o
Dingleberry
-iPood is taken, sorry

Only you can name you.

New Name Effort

For those who've been looking for a name, here are some discussed:

* Jew Poo Choo Boogie
* The Jew-Poo Trader
* Poopa Troopa
* Blooper
* Brown Soldier
* Red Hawk Brown
* Brownie
* Captain Colon
* Fartbook
* Mypoop
* The Poop Chute Paratrooper
* The Jew Troop Pooper Trooper.
* Trader Poo
* Poo Trader
* Big Jew Big Poo
* Craptastic
* The Majestic Crap
* Uh Oh!
* Turd
* Turd Burger
* Corn Floater
* Poo Bear
* Sir Not Appearing on this Toilet
* Outhouse
* Nesty
* Pushing for Glory
* Deep Thoughts
* Deep Troughs
* I can’t believe I made THAT!
* A little bit o’Peril
* The Plunger
* Sir Plunges-alot

Meet Hershey

From this day forth, I shall no longer be known as IMMAUEL, the People's Pooper.


Introducing:

HERSHEY POTTER

After a weekend of PBR and Mexican food, Hershey Potter felt it coming, but he dreaded the passing of what was sure to be a Sorcerer's Stone. Absconding to his Chamber of Secrets, our hero readied to release his Prisoner of Asskaban. The pain was excruciating as the porcelein recepticle beneath him was transformed to a Goblet of Fire. And into those flames he poured his cruelty, his malice and, though he didn't remember eating any, a few kernels of corn. And from its firey heart was born a magnificent creature -- he would pay heed to the Order of the Phoenix, or else feel the rest of his life-force drained and be left but a Half-Blood Prince. And so Hershey Potter completed his defilement of the Hogfarts, and departed, leaving the window open and the fan on so his friends would not fall victim to the stench of his Deathly Hallows.

Leave the fan on

A moment of zen in the office crapicle. The log log for the digital age. Behold, the log log online. Sorry folks, loglog and logblog were already taken.