Public Bathrooms

fuck i for got that time a Mcd's...

9pm in the worse part of fresno, just finished my tour thru the crime lab field trip. fucking hungry so i went a block to it. had to take a leak, about to go to it and this nasty junkie bump me, went it and it stink to hell, dude on the urinal so crapper i be going to, open it up and shit everywhere, blood on the seat, strap and a used needle on the lid. puked when went to taco bell

That reminded me of the brother of an ex-coworker. We had this small internet cafe, and the toiled only had a cartain and he just went in. We didn't imagine he would do such a thing, but he did... fuck... the whole place ended up smelling like shit... ¬¬

I've never done it in a public toilet, I can't do it in a place that is not my house or at least I'm familiar with, so there are times where I've waiting for even a whole day until I reach my home.

Now, about legendary toilet quotes;

"Masturbate your mind and you'll ejaculate ideas" - In a toilet in some university.

braingasm

Rolfmao. That sounds like an aphrodisiac food for zombies...

Well, I was on a two day cruise a while back and as I stood at the urinal a guy standing by far side of the room started talking to me and said; "You and me man, tonight, you and me are gonna have sex!", needless to say, I stood there, dick in hand and was feeling kinda disturbed, stuttering forth a "Wa-wait? What? No."

It took the guy a few seconds to understand what I was talking about but he finally realized the poor choice of words and explained that he meant that the both of us was gonna get laid, and that he tried to wish me good luck. We laughed it off and grabbed a drink together. I later found out that he had been spreading around that me and my friends was selling cocaine down in our cabin. <_< Something we didn't do.

I was drunk coming out of a karaoke bar and pissed in the middle of the sidewalk. That's about as public as I've ever gotten.

I talk to random people in the stalls if I ever need to use the throne. I like making it awkward for people. I also don't sit on the thing, I have this thing about sitting bare-assed on a ring that's been used by a million other people. Germs and what not. Grody.

This one time, some person was on their fone while taking a shit, so I answered every question and statement they made. "Sorry, some person in the next stall is talking to me, that's who you're hearing".

One time it was a group of people came in, and I answered everything they talked about, also. I beat them out of the place, and as I walked out, I heard them say, "that was some rando talking to us".

This thread made me LMFAO!!

I went into a restroom once to wash my hands. I heard this guy in one of the stalls moaning. I was like "...." then walked out.

You're supposed to moan in the stall next to him.

LOl....that's awesome

I sing the theme to voltes five in between my grunts since I made this thread.
This made me do a lot of crazy shit
like shitting NEAR the toilet
Banging an occupied door violently and when he opens it I run into a vacant one
I threw random trash in the toilet to make weird splashing sounds giving the illusion of a major dump
I Need more ideas

Try doing all of that in a girl's bathroom.

I was working at a pizza place. one of the managers tells me to go clean the bathroom. so i grab the mop and bucket and head in. words cannot fully express the horror i witnessed when i looked into the stall. there was shit everywhere. the only parts untouched by the fecal assult were the back of the stall door, and the ceiling. there was a distinct spray pattern. it was almost as if the force of the evacuation propelled the defiler into the air.

anyway...i turned around and went to get this kid who worked ther who i didn't like. i said "they told me to tell you to go clean the bathroom.

it still haunts my nightmares.

Never use Public Bathrooms,
Since i know it will be awkward ...

and based from this thread replies, my point got proven and i lol'd .. guess i will never gonna use it unless its very necessary.

Well, I remember one time I go to bathroom in some gas station to take piss; a kid was hurriedly running past me into the toilet stall. I ignore him.

After finished, I'm going to wash my hands only to step on something suspicious on floor, It kinda feels like mud and brown-colored.

Then I was like..."Oh, shit"

Just some lady who likes to stick her foot into the other stall. I guess there's not enough room for her in her stall to stretch her legs, so whenever she happens to sit next to me, her foot finds it's way sticking into my stall >_>;;

I avoid public bathrooms whenever I can, but it's impossible at work.

I have bathroom rules that I wish I could post in every public bathroom ever:

1) If all the stalls are empty except one, don't fucking sit next to the one person. This always happens to me. Ladies, I don't want to be your friend while I'm tinkling, but it's like my pee has some pheromone that draws you right into the stall next to me. =.=
2) Please courtesy flush. It's gross enough that I have to use the public bathroom, and now I have to endure your poo stench too...flush between plops please : (
3) If you sprinkle when you tinkle, be a sweetie and wipe the seatie.
4) Don't stand in the bathroom stall and talk on the phone. It's creepy. And I'm sure the person on the line doesn't want to hear people flushing...

Long story follows.

A couple of weeks ago a few friends and I decided to cruise out to Ryan's Steakhouse for dinner. It as a Wednesday night which means that macaroni and beef was on the hot bar, indeed the only night of the week that it is served.

Wednesday night is also kid's night at Ryan's, complete with Dizzy the Clown wandering from table to table entertaining the little bastards. It may seem that the events about to be told have little connection to those two circumstances, but all will be clear in a moment.

We went through the line and placed our orders for the all-you-can-eat hot bar then sat down as far away from the front of the restaurant as possible in order to keep the density of kids down a bit. Then I started my move to the hot bar. Plate after plate of macaroni and beef were consumed that evening, I tell you in all, four heaping plates of the pseudo-Italian ambrosia were shoved into my belly. It was salted.

Perhaps a bit too much, however.

I had not really been feeling well all day, what with a bit of gas and such. By the time I had eaten four overwhelmed plates of food, I was in real trouble. There was so much pressure on my diaphragm that I was having trouble breathing. At the same time, the downward pressure was building. At first, I thought it was only gas which could have been passed in batches right at the table without to much concern. Unfortunately, that was not to be.

After a minute or so it was clear that I was dealing with explosive diarrhea. It's amazing how grease can make its way through your intestines far faster than the food whichspawned the grease to begin with, but I digress...

I got up from the table and made my way to the bathroom. Upon entering, I saw two sinks immediately inside the door, two urinals just to the right of the sinks, and two toilet stalls against the back wall. One of them was a handicapped bathroom. Now, normally I would have gone to the handicapped stall since I like to stretch out a bit when I take a good crap, but in this case, the door lock was broken and the only thing I hate worse than my mom telling me to stop cutting my toenails with a pair of diagonal wirecutters is having someone walk in on me while I am taking a crap.

I went to the normal stall.

In retrospect, I probably should have gone to the large, handicapped stall even though the door would not lock because that bit of time lost in making the stall switch proved to be a bit too long under the circumstances.

By the time I had walked into the regular stall, the pressure on my ass was reaching Biblical proportions. I began "The Move."

For those women who may be reading this, let me take a moment to explain "The Move." Men know exactly what their bowels are up to at any given second. And when the time comes to empty the cache, a sequence of physiological events occur that can not be stopped under any circumstances. There is a move men make that involves simultaneously approaching the toilet, beginning the body turn to position ones ass toward said toilet, hooking ones fingers into ones waistline, and pulling down the pants while beginning the squat at the same time. It is a very fluid motion that, when performed properly, results in the flawless expulsion of crap at the exact same second that one's ass is properly placed on the toilet seat. Done properly, it even assures that the penis is properly inserted into the front rim of the toilet in the event that the piss stream lets loose at the same time it is truly a picture of coordination rivaling that of a skilled ballet dancer.

I was about half-way into "The Move" when I looked down at the floor and saw a pile of vomit that had been previously expelled by one of those little bastards attending kids night; it was mounded up in the corner so I did not notice it when I had first walked into the stall. Normally, I would not have been bothered by such a thing, but I had eaten so much and the pressure upward was so intense, that I hit a rarely experienced gag reflex. And once that reflex started, combined with the intense pressure upward caused by the bloated stomach, four plates of macaroni and beef started coming up for a rematch.

What happened next was so quick that the exact sequence of events are a bit fuzzy, but I will try to reconstruct them as best I can. In that moment of impending projectile vomiting, my attention was diverted from the goings on at the other end. To put a freeze frame on the situation, I was half crouched down to the toilet, pants pulled down to my knees, with a load of vomit coming up my esophagus. Now, most of you know that vomiting takes precedence over crap no matter what is about to come slamming out of your ass. It is apparently an evolutionary thing, since shitting will not kill you, but vomiting takes a presence of mind to accomplish so that you do not aspirate any food into the bronchial tubes and perhaps choke to death. My attention was thus diverted.

At that very split second, my ass exploded in what can only be described as a wake. you know, as in a newspaper headline along the lines of "30,000 Killed In Wake of Typhoon Fifi" or something similar. In what seemed to be most suitably measured in cubic feet, an enormous plug of crap the consistency of thick mud with embedded pockets of greasy liquid came flying out of my ass. But remember, I was only half-way down on the toilet at that moment. The crap wave was of such force and of just such an angle in relation to the back curve of the toilet seat that it ricocheted off the back of the seat and slammed into the wall at an angle of incidence equal to the angle at which it initially hit the toilet seat.

Then I sat down and recalled that when that event occurred, I was already half way to sitting anyway and had actually reached the point of no return. I have always considered myself as relatively stable gravitationally, but when you get beyond a certain point, you're going down no matter how limber you may be. Needless to say, the crap wave, though of considerable force, was not so sufficient so as to completely glance off the toilet seat and deposit itself on the walls, unlike what you would see when hitting a puddle with a high-pressure water hose; even though you throw water at the puddle, the puddle gets moved and no water is left to reform a puddle. There was a significant amount of crap remaining on about one-third of the seat rim which I had now just collapsed upon.

Now, back to the vomit. While all the shitting was going on, the vomit was still on its way up. By the time I had actually collapsed on the toilet, my mouth had filled up with a goodly portion of the macaroni and beef I had just consumed. OK, so what does the human body instinctively do when vomiting? One bends over. So I bent over. I was still sitting on the toilet, though. Therefore, bending over resulted in me placing my head above my now slightly opened legs, positioned in between my knees and waist. Also directly above my pants which were now pulled down to a point just midway between my knees and my ankles.

Oh, did I mention that I was wearing not just pants, but sweat pants with elastic on the ankles? In one mighty push, some three pounds of macaroni and beef, two or three Cokes, and a couple of Big, Fat Yeast Rolls were deposited in my pants on the inside with no ready exit at the bottom down by my feet.

In the next several seconds, there were a handful of farts, a couple of turds, and the event ended, yet I was now sitting there with my pants full of vomit, my back covered in crap that had bounced off the toilet, spattered on three ceramic tiled walls to a height of about five feet, and still had enough force to come back at me, covering the back of my shirt with droplets of liquid crap. All while thick crap was spread all over my ass in a ring curiously in the shape of a toilet seat. And there was no fraking toilet paper.

What could I do but laugh. I must have sounded like a complete maniac to the guy who then wandered into the bathroom. He actually asked if I was OK since I was laughing so hard I must have sounded like I was crying hysterically. I calmed down just enough to ask him if he would get the manager. And told him to have the manager bring some toilet paper.

When the manager walked in, he brought the toilet paper with him, but in no way was prepared for what happened next. I simply told him that there was no way I was going to explain what was happening in the stall, but that I needed several wet towels and I needed him to go ask one of my friends to come help me. I told him where we were sitting and he left. At that point, I think he was probably assuming that I had pissed just a bit in my pants or something similarly benign.

About two minutes later, one of my more caring friends came into the bathroom not knowing what was wrong and with a certain amount of worry in his voice. I explained to him (still laughing and having trouble getting out words) that I had a slight accident and needed his help. Knowing that I had experienced some close calls in the past, he probably assumed that I had laid down a small turd or something and just needed to bring the car around so we could bolt immediately. Until I asked him, I'm sure he had no idea that he was about to go across the street and purchase me new underwear, new socks, new pants, a new shirt, and (by that time due to considerable leakage around the elastic ankles thingies) new sneakers. And he then started to laugh himself since I was still laughing.

He began to ask for an explanation as to what had happened when I promised him that I would tell him later, but that I just needed to handle damage control for the time being. He left. The manager then came back in with a half dozen wet towels and a few dry ones. I asked him to also bring a mop and bucket upon which he assured me that they would clean up anything that needed to be cleaned. Without giving him specific details, I explained that what was going on in that stall that night was far in excess of what I would expect anyone to deal with, what with most of the folks working at Ryan's making minimum wage or just slightly above.

At that moment, I think it dawned on him exactly the gravity of the situation. Then that manager went so far above the call of duty that I will be eternally grateful for his actions. He hooked up a hose. Fortunately, commercial bathrooms are constructed with tile walls and tile floors and have a drain in the middle of the room in order to make clean up easy. And I was in a commercial bathroom.

He hooked up the hose to the spigot located under the sink as I began cleaning myself up with the wet towels. Just as I was finishing, David got back with the new clothes and passed them into the stall, whereupon I stuffed the previously worn clothing into the plastic bag that came from the store, handing the bag to him. I finished cleaning myself off and carefully put on my new clothes, still stuck in the stall since I figured that it would be in bad taste to go out of the stall to get redressed in the event I happened to be standing there naked and some little bastard kid walked in. At that point, I had only made a mess, I had not yet committed a felony and intended to keep it that way.

When I finished getting dressed, I picked up the hose and cleaned up the entire stall, washing down the remains toward the drain in the center of the room. I put down the hose and walked out of the bathroom. I had intended to go to the manager and thank him for all he had done, but when I walked out, three of the management staff were there to greet me with a standing ovation. I started laughing so hard that I thought I was going to throw up again, but managed to scurry out to the car where my buddies were now waiting to pick me up by the front door.

The upshot of all this is that I strongly recommend eating dinner at Ryan's Steak House.

They have, by far, the nicest management staff of any restaurant in which I have eaten

damn, working on carpal tunnel

Mm mm mmmm~ I love pasta for lunch.