TLME Bathroom

It was December 2001. I had begun dating a female comic who we’ll call Jen (not her real name) a few weeks earlier that just so happened to be the roommate of Liam M. This was a little bit weird at first, simply due to his stealthily ninja like way about him. For a big guy he was able to move through the apartment unnoticed, we were never quite sure if he was there or not. We would enter and he would be hidden in his room away from the common rooms of the apartment, then there would be a door closing and locking. He would be gone.

It was a weeknight, Jen and I were out doing some show together, we had decided to get some type of cheap food and then head over to her place. We were both feeling healthy at this point. It was around 9 or 10PM when we swung on by the Ray’s pizza on 7th Avenue and 53rd Street. I ordered two slices and a soda. We got our food and went up the few steps to the seating area to eat.

I ate a few bites, and had all of a sudden been consumed by stomach pains. I excused myself to find a restroom at which point I would contemplate what I should do, a one or a two. The restroom was down a long narrow staircase, it was small, with just enough room for one person to do business while three people waited outside the stall, and the entire floor was wet from some unknown liquid.

After impatiently waiting for my turn to use the head I was up to the plate and decided to lay a punt by just peeing. It was a number one. I felt good about this, because the restroom was drenched, smelled awful, and it my body felt slightly better.

I headed upstairs to finish my food. I sat there and attempted to finish my pizza and couldn’t. For those who are not in the know, I am a huge fan of pizza, and to not finish my pizza would mean that something is wrong. Jen and I had decided to head off to her place where I could rest.

Not thinking clearly due to my body feeling as though a dead mouse was rotting inside of it my mind didn’t make good decisions, and we ended up taking the subway to her place. Not only did we take the subway, but when we were at the Queens bound 49th Street N/R stop, we got on the N train instead of the R.

Thankfully on the N train I was able to get a seat. I sat there feeling and thinking my body would explode. My guts were tight as can be, and my throat felt as though it was two centimeters short from giving birth.

I was definitely going to be sick.

I looked at Jen and informed her of my dire situation, she suggested that I drink come ginger ale when we got to her place, and that her place would not have any ginger ale, so we better stop off along the way and pick some up.

The subway ride just got worse, and by the time we got to Queensboro Plaza we were not only on the wrong line, but I could no longer withstand the movement of the subway.

We got off the subway and I was breathing heavily, which is a sure shot sign that I had immanent sickness on the way. We asked a strange guy standing on the street how to get back to the Queens Blvd subway lines, and he informed us that it was a hike over to the subway entrance that would get us home. I wasn’t going to make it.

We stopped in a bodega and bought a ginger ale. I have never been a fan of ginger ale, and I sipped it with utter disgust. Nothing was happening to my stomach, it was supposed to calm my stomach. My stomach wasn’t supposed to still be in knots.

We decided that a cab back to her place would be a good idea. We got in, and said, “Rego Park”.

I sat in the back seat with the window down as far as it could go, and fought off the desires my body was telling me to just let go and be sick all over the cab.

I don’t know if this cabbie knew that I was going to be sick, or if he just knew how to get there fast, but it seemed as though we were flying along to her place. Although it was bumpy and unstable, I knew that the faster we got there, the quicker I would have a toilet if needed and a bed to rest my body.

When we got to her place there was no sign of Liam. This did not mean he was not there, and as a fellow comic he held very odd hours as it were, so we assumed he wasn’t there and that he was on his way home. I took off my jacket, and carefully sprawled out across Jen’s bed.

My stomach was in pains that I had never felt before. I wasn’t sure if I needed to poop, or barf, and I sure as heck didn’t want to find out. I kept sipping the ginger ale hoping that it would magically make my body feel normal again.

Then I decided that I needed to get my clothes off because I was feeling hot. I stripped off my shirt, socks, and jeans. This left me butt naked, as this was a time in my life when I rarely ever wore underwear.

Knowing that I might poop, Jen didn’t want to risk my pooping on her bed and had me put on a pair of her sweatpants. I did as she wished and now lay there in sweatpants that were eight inches too short.

I tried to sleep and was unable to just pass out.

Then I felt it. I still wasn’t sure what it was, but I knew that I had to get to the restroom. I walked very carefully over to the restroom, opened the toilet, pulled down the sweats and sat on the toilet seat.

It would all be soon over, with my body releasing the inner foul that hurt my insides, or so I thought.

Pains wracked my abdomen. Then I could feel that I was definitely going to have some kind of number two. Then, with a painful tiny push whatever was inside that felt like rotting rats came out my butt with a fiery sensation and fell into the water.

I looked down and saw a brown rod. It kind of looked like the rod that save Homer Simpson and the shuttle crew when they were in space on the Simpsons. Only this one was brown and it was dissolving.

My poop had apparently gone effervescent on me. I could see the brown liquid cloud begin to consume all of the water and then it hit the top, which allowed it to breathe, and then I smelled the awful truth.

My poop was liquid and it was the rankiest of all ranky poop that I have ever smelled – either mine or that from some others butt.

I flushed the toilet immediately. More came out. More of the same liquid poop rod came out, and more smell of death came out of the bowl. I flushed and flushed.

Then I thought that I was done. I cleaned up, then went back to bed, and attempted to rest.

Not more than five minutes later I found myself hobbling over to the restroom again. I crumpled to my knees and was dry heaving over the bowl. Then I felt the need to poop again, I sat up on the bowl and immediately had the very same liquid poop rod diarrhea squirts.

With each new batch of liquid rod that hit the water my head was getting lighter and lighter. I was extremely nauseous, and felt as though I was going to pass out. I got up and walked with the sweatpants around my ankles as fast as I could to Jen’s bedroom door. I couldn’t speak, so I just banged on the door and motioned for her to follow me in the same way that Lassie would do if Timmy were in trouble.

She followed me to the restroom, where I sat on the toilet and had even more liquid diarrhea rods drop into the water, I informed her that I felt like I might pass out, and I just wanted her there to call an ambulance right away if I did pass out.

I couldn’t take the smell anymore, so I kept flushing the toilet with each stinky squirt. It was my only defense from the smell. I flushed the bowl so many times that Jen started to scream at me thinking that I was going to break the toilet bowl, which would have been awful, since it would have left a huge bowl of fully liquid diarrhea in the bowl.

I pleaded with her to let me keep flushing due to the smell of death that my body was releasing. She ran to her bedroom and lit a bunch of incense, then brought it all into the restroom in an attempt to make it smell normal again.

The incense was not working. My butt kept shooting loads of liquid brown poop out and the room quickly became overfilled with too many smells. I was going to barf.

I could feel the heaves coming, and when I thought my butt closed up for a moment from the liquid poops I quickly turned around to vomit when it happened.

As my butt was lifted off of the seat and my head going down to the seat to barf, I prematurely barfed. Spewing vomit all across the side of the tub, and behind the toilet, while this was happening my butt opened up, and shot out a load of liquid rod diarrhea. This landed on the floor and inside my Jen’s sweatpants.

I dropped to the floor and barfed some more into the bowl. Then flushed, I sat back up on the bowl and continued the parade of liquid rod poop.

Jen stood in the doorway with a mortified look on her face and looked white as a ghost, and asked, “Did you…just…the floor…my pants?”

I looked and did not want to believe what had just happened. I said, “I don’t think it’s poop.” I’ll clean up the vomit though.

Jen walked away, got some paper towels, handed them to me and I cleaned up while I sat on the toilet continuing my sickness.

When I felt as though I was done completely, I cleaned up, through out the sweatpants, gave the look around, and made sure that no more diarrhea and vomit was anywhere, and went to bed.

The next morning Jen and I took a cab back to my place in Brooklyn. I was broke, and had to go inside for cash. When I got three steps in I could feel it wanting to happen again.

I took my jacket off and crouched down at the toilet barfing. Jen asked about the cab. I told her where she could find $50, and told her to just give it all to the driver. I continued to be sick like this for the next day or so, barfing and vomiting.

At the time I was working at a store in Brooklyn, and had to take nearly a week off due to the sickness. When I was feeling better I stopped by the store to show my face, and buy some much needed toilet paper, since I went through a ton of it in the previous couple of days.

While there one of the cashiers came up to me and gave me a bug hug saying, “Beehive, I’ve missed you so much.”

I didn’t hug her back and warned, “Amy, you really don’t want whatever virus I just had. You might not want to hug me.”

She quickly unhugged me, and said, “Eww, you had a stomach virus. Gross.”

A day or two later I was feeling strong enough to work again, and when I went back to work Amy was out sick. A week went by and Amy came back to work shocked.

She went on to explain that it first started when she was at school, and that she had to go home sick. Then how she was shooting out liquid diarrhea and barfing for a few days,. She also went on to say that more than half of the senior class at her high school was out sick, and that she was pretty sure that they all had the same nasty virus, from her, who got it from me.

All in all it was one filthy virus in more ways that one, I don’t want to ever be so sick like that again in my life, I’m kind of nauseous having written this whole thing, and to this day I still wonder, does Liam know what happened?

Love knows no bounds…

Today Has Been One Of Those Days

I just can’t find something I want to write about. Every time I write some I end up deleting it for being far to boring, even to my boring standards. Maybe it’s the rain, or maybe it’s how the day began. It began in a way I would not have predicted, ever.

This true story begins last night. I worked out, ate dinner, showered, and went on over to the Cheese’s place. We had a glass of wine, did our thing, ended up going to sleep.

While sleeping I woke up a few times. Once from her snoring loudly, once from cat meowing like there was no tomorrow, once to take a leak, and one time I woke for a split second and had a thought of what was that? Then went back to sleep.

When the alarm finally woke us up for good I had come out of a dream in which I was walking around with Mayor Mike Bloomberg and Donald Trump. We were going through art museums and I kept screaming at the top of my lungs with a fake German/Irish accent “that is the greatest piece of artwork I have ever seen!” I told my Cheese about the dream, and we decided that I would do this in her presence one night at MoMa.

Then I remembered that moment from the middle of the night that I woke up for a split second. I remembered that I was lying on my left side and it felt as though something ran down my butt cheek. I felt my left cheek and it was dry. I thought that it was odd for me to have had that sensation in the middle of the night. Then I felt the need to drop a deuce.

I headed to the bathroom, while my Cheese went to make us goat cheese omelets. I sat down and only had a minimal fart. Nothing came out. I went to wipe anyways and my butt was fully swamp ass. This didn’t seem logical from such a tiny fart.

Confused and worried about my swamp ass I went back to the bed. I needed to double check with the light on that the entire situation was all in my head, and that I did not feel anything last night, and that my ass was not all swampy.

I looked at the bed sheet on my side of the bed, and saw it was all purple. Whew! I sighed, since purple is what the sheets are supposed to be colored on this set. Then I took a look at the white comforter, and it was still white.

Then I thought, coast is clear. It’s all in my head. So I decided I would make my Cheese’s bed for her while she cooked. As I straightened the sheets and comforter out I saw something. It was it. It was what I felt in the middle of the night, and it was what logically would have left me with a swamp ass. It was a patch of wet fart poop!

That’s right, I somehow shit my girlfriends bed last night. She didn’t notice it either. I thought what should I do about this. The only option I could think of was honesty. So I sadly went to the kitchen, hugged my girlfriend from behind while she cooked and had this conversation.

Beehive: Baby, I need to tell you something.
Cheese: What’s the matter?
Beehive: I just came out of the bathroom and had swamp ass. I think I farted in the middle of the night and did something to the bed.
Cheese: Why do you think that? (laughing)
Beehive: Cause I saw what I did.
Cheese: What did you? (laughing harder)
Beehive: I sort of shit on your bed.
Cheese: How do you know for sure?
Beehive: Cause it’s all right there in bed.
(Cheese laughing so hard she would have fallen onto the floor if I hadn’t held her in my hug)
Cheese: I need to go see this. Can I go see this?
Beehive: If you really want to.

Cheese ran to the bedroom, she pulled all the sheets back and saw a stain on her bed sheet that I hadn’t even seen. She said, “That looks like nothing.” I pulled the regular sheet down to show the actual innards of me splattered out across her lovely purple sheets.

Cheese: Oh my God! (laughing)
Beehive: I know…
Cheese: Oh my God you did not do that. Oh my God tell me you did not do that. (laughing)
Beehive: I did do that.
Cheese: You need to go in the shower right now. Go in the shower. Seriously go.
Beehive: Shall I go wash them for you quick?
Cheese: No, Just get in the shower!

I went and showered. She went and finished cooking breakfast. After my shower I stripped the bed. Ate breakfast, dressed, and left for work.

Love knows no bounds…

The Bug On A Reporter Video

I had watched this video off of gawker, which was off of youtube at my desktop. Since my desktop has no volume, I forwarded it to my coworker, KG. She watched it, and called me immediately.

This video needed the justice of sound, so I watched it on KG's desktop, and well...I laughed so hard that I farted, loudly.

Thankfully she didn't notice, or chose to just ignore it.

I Enjoy Learning New Things

Jack Black referenced this at the end of the VMA show last week. It kept ringing in my head, and I just had to find out what a Rusty Trombone is. I had guessed correct in that it is a sexual phrase, and had no clue that that is what those actions are called.

Rusty Trombone

In a side note, I played trombone while in Junior High. It was part of the "you are forced to play in band, only because your older sister was in band" unwritten rule of the Public School system in NYC. I'd like to maybe pick it up one day, since I have no time right now for such things.

Laughing My Ass Off!!!

I just got out of the mens room. I was in the last stall, number 3. I was zipping up my pants when I heard the door open. The pitter-patter of the footsteps was hurried. I heard the first stall door close. The toilet paper was being pulled and ripped in a rush. I went and washed my hands, while I heard what I thought to be an excessive amount of toilet paper being pulled to use as a seat guard, especially considering that there are plenty of seat guards in each stall. I wondered who was in there. A heard the flush of the toilet.

This usually done when someone is under the impression that they are about to let out a loud fart or disgusting smelling turd, the flush will do two things, first it will make enough noise to overpower most butt sounds, and two, it gives a lesser amount of time for things to stink up a room. I am not a fan of this guise. It usually ends up with water being sprayed on my bottom, to which I am not fond of.

After I dried my hands I walked to the door, opened the door using the paper towel that I had in my hand from drying my hands, went to lean back to toss the paper towel in the garbage can, and then I heard some sounds.

These sounds consisted of a grunt, gasp, and then really really really loud gas. It echoed in the bowl, which in turn echoed into throughout the bathroom, which since I had the door open, echoed throughout the hallway, and in turn echoed to about 5 or 6 cubes away from the hallway entrance. I immediately grinned, and just needed to get back to my desk. I didn’t want anyone to see me laughing to myself, and ask why, for if they did I would have told them the truth, and then they would have lost a little bit of respect for me.

I was most certainly not expecting those sounds to be so loud, and when I first heard it, I thought that sounds like the CIO. I got back to my desk, and saw that the CIO was no in his office. He arrived about 5 minutes later, while I was writing this blog. I am 99% sure it was he who did those jolly things in the bathroom this afternoon.

I’ll also let you know that part of me wishes that someone was passing as I opened the door and heard the grunt, gasp, and gas, this way I could be laughing about it with someone right now.

Did I Flush The Bowl?

I just went to the restroom at my office, and had gone to go into the last stall, which is the handicapped accessible high seated thrown which I enjoy doing my business on. When I opened the door I saw that the bowl was clogged. This is the second time this week that I’ve found my favorite bowl clogged. Right now I am under the assumption that one of the new men on the floor is using way too much tp, or it is someone who on their way out and hates the company and is just clogging to bowl on purpose.

Anyways, I was about to go into the middle stall, but decided to go for the first stall instead. I just had a bad feeling about that middle one. I did my business, and was about to wrap things up when I heard someone scamper into the restroom, go into the last stall, flush the clogged bowl, and then run into the middle stall. I proceeded to wrap up, and pull up my pants while the guy was setting up in the middle stall that was right next to the one I was in. At the same time yet another man enters this restroom, went for the last stall, and he saw it was clogged. Instead of leaving he did the “I’ll just pee at the urinal” thing and hope my inside don’t pop out my butt.

All this commotion around me while I was zipping and putting together my belt left my head spinning. I left the stall, walked fast past the urinals as to not been seen leaving the stalls – which if spotted would have meant that I was caught red handed having just taken a dump. As I washed my hands my mind suddenly thought, “Did I flush?” And for the life of me I couldn’t remember if I had flushed. I hope I did flush, but I wasn’t sure.

I thought that maybe I should go back and check, but couldn’t actually do that because then I would definitely have been caught having just taken a dump, or worse having just checked the bowl to which I just too a dump in, or even worse I could have walked into the guy that was at the urinal about to enter the stall to which I may or may not have flushed. In either case this most likely would have resulted in some sort of small talk, which I did not wish to get into after I just took a dump, and would have led me to a life of embarrassment, forever.

14 Inches Of Poo

I just took a dump, and I swear it must have been about 14 inches or so long, at least! It was broken up into two seperate pieces, but from what I can see, 14 inches plus is a safe bet.

I had been sitting at my desk, feeling the urge that I might have to go before I left at 1pm. I pondered if it was necessary, and thought about actually having to go at the Hunter College bathrooms and it gave me the notion that I should just try, as my mother used to tell me when I was little and going to go out somewhere that did not have an ideal restroom.

While I was awaiting word that my other blog had successfully been pulblished I farted. It was a long gassy one, and I was able to feel something go up my buttcrack and out my pants. What was that?, I thought. Concerned I may have just shit myself I sat, frozen. I then proceeded to put my left index finger down my crack to see if I was able to draw out a smell, no smell. I then turned my light blue shirt around to see if poop flew up and out of my pants onto my nice light blue shirt. I then deemed it safe to walk to the Men's room. I went, put the cool liner down, sat, and then WHAM! All of a sudden this huge turd decided to pop out of my butt.

I sure wasn't expecting such a big surprise, but was fascinated by its length. I did the old spread hand technique to get the size of turds. While it might not be fully accurate, it is way better than going on a "I need to borrow your ruler" run about the 24th floor.

The restrooms also has a new automatic papertowel dispensor, which doesn't seem to want to give adequate amounts of towels to dry my hands, so I need to keep waving my hands liek a cool in the bathroom in order to fool it into giving out more paper towels.

Such a productive way to spend time.