don't read this during lunch

...or breakfast.  or dinner.  really, only continue reading this if you have a strong tum and glean any enjoyment whatsoever from the following:

poo.

number two.  poop.  turd.  crap.  shit.  i could go on for a while here...

i happen to find bathroom humor very, very entertaining.  judge me if you will, but don't deny that you have giggled over potty jokes in the past.  you have.

i realized this morning that someone beat me to my potential calling in life: a poo blog.  i've gotta give it to them...they've really covered their bases.  from "first memory of poop" to "shit of my career", they take it throughout the entire life cycle of one's memory of the bowel movement.

the site i found: "the poop report: intellectual appreciation of poop humor"

my favorite section thus far: eternal debates <--check it out.

i'll never forget when i saw the largest number two of my life.  it changed my perspective on (a) the possibilities of poo and (b) related debauchery forever.

i was in college, and some lady friends and i had decided to go ninja-style-ductape-attack the suite of boys a floor below.  it involved black clothing, face paint, and the ever-so-necessary sticky tape of terror.  creeping downstairs, we swiftly ductaped each of the bedroom doors shut, and then tied them to the door knob immediately across the hall with more tape.  we were pretty satisfied with ourselves, and celebrated by going out to dinner.

upon returning home, we heard a shriek coming from the bathroom of our lady suite.  now, in those days a bathroom shriek could have meant a number of things.  a shower rendezvous, an unexpected aunt flow, etc.  in this instance, however, we were all caught off guard.  as we converged in the restroom we saw one of our suitemates staring into the toilet bowl, pointing, a look of horror on her face.  there it was, the largest poo i had ever seen.  it was so large, in fact, that it had to be broken up (use your imagination) so that it could be flushed!  i am brave, but not that brave.  i don't remember who took on the task, but bless her heart.

we could only assume that it was payback from the gentlemen downstairs.  it was absolutely a man-sized dropping, and a monster one at that.  what i still have yet to figure out...

there was no toilet paper to accompany the poo in the bowl.  how did that happen?

i'll probably never know.  and i honestly don't know that i want to.

suddenly, i'm not very hungry for lunch...

(have a funny poo story?  comment!)