Most people are fairly discreet and somewhat shy about their personal habits as they relate to pushing out mud . I feel pretty confident that any femmes that may glance at this article will be mildly turned off… maybe even disgusted by what they read. Fortunately for our seasoned readers I don’t care. I know none of you girls have ever left a termite mound in the toilet…..at least not one that you would be willing to discuss.
I pride myself as a connoisseur of fine dumping. I have shit in more bizarre places than anyone I have ever met. My “issues” with pooping have been pretty tame for the last 7-10 years but occasionally I will fall back into bad eating and drinking habits (whisky and Chinese food don’t mix) and the demons will revisit. I was heading south on the GSP driving back from an interview/dinner last Friday night and I was feeling just peachy. I had already made my peace with the toilet at dinner. Clearly I miscalculated the effects of the 24 super hot wings and the Italian sub I had for lunch.
I was about 5-7 miles from exit 98 when I took the first hit. I say “hit” because it feels like someone gave you the butt of a baseball bat in your stomach. The traffic was epic for that time of night but I have experience with this scenario and I have learned not to panic. I calmly raise my ass off the seat using my right arm to relieve some pressure and quickly search for an off ramp. I assume most of you have had the pleasure of riding the GSP and off ramps are few and far between. This is when the quiet period begins. The time when I raise my ass off the seat until the time I actually have to pull over. There is usually a 5 to 10 minute grace period depending on what I ate that day. If you are familiar with the exit 98 service area you know this is the final frontier for all of the Stinken Island dagos on their way to Belmar or Manasquan.
When I screeched into the parking lot the place was crawling with Dolce and Gabbana sunglasses with the yellow lenses. Most people would have made the effort to get inside the bathroom but I have learned through trial and error it just doesn’t work. The key is to get as far away from the general public as possible and pull in on an angle. You see I may be a disgusting animal but I do appreciate a little privacy while I dump. So here I am..angled right next to a Mini Cooper blowing a piss laden blast all over the parking lot at 11 pm on a Friday night. There were 10 perfectly functioning toilets less than 30 yards from my car. Time was not on my side. I had to act quickly or suffer the consequences of riding home with no pants on. I didn’t hear the giggling bimbos snapping their gum talking about the juiced up Guinea they would be blowing after a hard night of drinking at Bar Anticipation. But I did hear the screams. Their finely honed Brooklyn accents were very clear as they gagged and spewed hate speech at me.
Apparently I had used their car as my shield. Being a professional shitter I was unfazed by their presence. I used my sock to wipe the sopping burning after-birth from my ass and rolled. There is no moral to this story. We all shit. We all have stories about our shit. I wanted to share one of mine.
Aces & Eights
