bumble wrote:I was wearing normal panties for the first time in a long time.

No no, those are too revealing. These are better:

bumble wrote:No no, those are too revealing. These are better:

but did you notice the charcoal pouch built into the butt of mine to dispell any flatuent air that might arise?



something like that could come in very handy for the girl on the go

bumble wrote:No no, those are too revealing. These are better:

Button me, Ren.....

The flap on that picture looks like it might open if you click on it. It doesn't, though.

I didn't catch the charcoal pouch! I thought they were padded biker shorts, not fart-absorbing underpants.

Incredible. Cross them with a water-bottle-pee locking system in the front and we have a bestseller.

Yesterday I told a Hitler joke to a holocaust survivor.

It's and older guy who works at my office who I've always gotten along well with. It was one of those things where as the joke was leaving my mouth I remembered a time a few years ago when he showed me he holocaust tattoo. He actually was really nice about it. I think he could tell that I'd just realized what I'd done. He didn't laugh but he kept talking to me. I could tell he was trying to make me feel comfortable. I don't know if you've ever told a Hilter joke to a holocaust survivor before, but it's truly one of the lowest feelings I've ever had.

True story, I swear:

One night when I was a sophomore in high school, I stayed up the entire night finishing a big project that was due the following day. I drank a lot of coffee that night, maybe two whole pots. I got maybe 2 hours of sleep that night, but my final project for the semester was completed to my satisfaction.

The next morning was a gray and cold early-winter morning. I dragged myself out of bed, showered, got dressed. My mom made a big breakfast with scrambled eggs, bacon and sausage links. Then it was off to school in the carpool with some neighbor kids. My neighbor's dad drove a beautiful classic Buick Skylark with an all-white leather interior. As I slid my ass onto that cool, smooth back seat, I realized that something was amiss deep within my bowels.

There was a sort of churning feeling in my guts, followed by a powerful urge to emit gas from my rectum. I tried to ignore it but as the minutes passed, the need for release grew stronger and the initial sensation of downward pressure acquired the company of a throbbing pain in my lower G.I. Suddenly, I realized my overindulgence in coffee was starting to catch up to me.

Blissfully unaware of my torment, my brother and our neighborhood friends continued in their youthful clowning, which was a common feature of our car trips to and from school. I longed to join in their gleeful shenanigans, but at the moment my entire consciousness was sharply focused upon the singular task of containing the imminent explosion that threatened to tear my very anus asunder.

Valiantly I struggled for over 10 minutes against the animal kingdom's most urgent biological stimulus. About halfway through our trip, the first of a series of unintentional ruptures broke through. It was a minor breach, but the stink was powerful enough to inundate the cabin of my neighbor's spacious, late '60s 4-door Buick.

My brother, sitting right next to me, was of course the first to vocalize his disgust: "EEEEEeeeewwww! Who ripped the cheese?!?"

This was met with a chorus of groans and laughter.

I kept my cool and said, "Don't look at me."

The focus of blame eventually landed on our youngest neighbor, Brian, whose loud and vehement protests only fanned the flames of suspicion. After minute or two, even our neighbor's dad complained and opened the car windows to the frigid morning air. Now I was shivering with cold while still struggling desperately to contain the colonic pressure. How I wished I could crawl inside myself and throttle my large intestine!

Next came a series of cramps deep in my gut and as a reaction, several more minor farts escaped. It was like getting kicked in the abdomen really hard, over and over again. I started wondering if maybe I ought to go to the ER. By now I was doubled over and sweating. The abdominal pain was so great I had to undo my belt to relieve the pressure somewhat. That worked for maybe a minute before the pains redoubled. Suddenly the doors opened and everyone started piling out of the car. We had arrived! We were at school. I opened the car door, grabbed my gut and ran for the door.

Immediately I started fighting the crowd, pushing my way into the school. There was a slimy, wet feeling in the seat of my underwear that gave urgency to my every stride. I could tell that everybody I passed in the hallway was noticing either my dangling belt or the ghastly, desperate expression on my face or else the shit smell emanating from my person. One kid looked right at me as I ran and actually started laughing out loud. Fuck him. By this point I didn't care about decorum or mockery. I was in pain. I had important business elsewhere.

I hit the boys' room and started fumbling with the snap and zipper on my pants as I sprinted past the rows of seniors combing their hair in front of the sink mirrors. I dropped my pants just as I slammed open the stall door, and even before I could even get properly seated, the explosion ripped forth...

I'll spare you the explicit details, but suffice it to say I ended up having to throw my underwear in the garbage and "go commando" for the rest of the school day.

While I was in the stall, some comedian yelled out, "Holy shit!!! What is somebody dying in there?!? Dude, you need a doctor or something?"

The laughter of other kids in there encouraged him to continue.

"Who's in there?" I heard somebody ask.

"I dunno" said the comedian, "But he sure is a smelly motherfucker."

A black kid came into the bathroom and said, "Daaaaamn... Who's got the funk?!?"

That one inspired another round of hearty laughs. Others followed suit, mocking me as I sat there on the pot. All I'd wanted was to empty my colon in peace, but now I was trapped. I didn't dare open the door and reveal my identity! So I stayed put, "resting" until the bell rang and the other students left the room one by one. I'd been in the bathroom for maybe 10-15 minutes.

I arrived late for my first period class, and I didn't have my books because I hadn't had time to stop at my locker beforehand. When the teacher asked me to explain why I was late, somebody blurted out, "He had explosive diarrhea."

This was met with uproarious laughter. I was mortified.

Colonel Panic wrote:...I realized that something was amiss deep within my bowels.

There was a sort of churning feeling in my guts, followed by a powerful urge to emit gas from my rectum. I tried to ignore it but as the minutes passed, the need for release grew stronger and the initial sensation of downward pressure acquired the company of a throbbing pain in my lower G.I. Suddenly, I realized my overindulgence in [beef and beer] was starting to catch up to me.

...my entire consciousness was sharply focused upon the singular task of containing the imminent explosion that threatened to tear my very anus asunder.

Valiantly I struggled ... against the animal kingdom's most urgent biological stimulus. About halfway through our trip, the first of a series of unintentional ruptures broke through.

I was shivering with cold while still struggling desperately to contain the colonic pressure. How I wished I could crawl inside myself and throttle my large intestine!

Next came a series of cramps deep in my gut and as a reaction, several more minor farts escaped. It was like getting kicked in the abdomen really hard, over and over again. I started wondering if maybe I ought to go to the ER. By now I was doubled over and sweating. The abdominal pain was so great I had to undo my belt to relieve the pressure somewhat. That worked for maybe a minute before the pains redoubled.

I could tell that everybody I passed in the hallway was noticing either my dangling belt or the ghastly, desperate expression on my face or else the shit smell emanating from my person.

By this point I didn't care about decorum or mockery. I was in pain. I had important business elsewhere.

I hit the boys' room and started fumbling with the snap and zipper on my pants as I sprinted past the rows of [hipsters] combing their hair in front of the sink mirrors. I dropped my pants just as I slammed open the stall door, and even before I could even get properly seated, the explosion ripped forth...

While I was in the stall, some comedian yelled out, "Holy shit!!! What is somebody dying in there?!? Dude, you need a doctor or something?"

Damn, dude - with only the slightest little bit of editing, this almost exactly describes my night last night, but replace 'school' with 'Knitting Factory'... COMPLETE with my own bathroom heckler standing outside the stall saying "Damn, some smelly fucker blew that shit up" (or whatever it was that he said)

It was so wrong, and to add insult to injury, the toilet was stopped up with a massive amount of TP before I even got there - I gave one flush to try to make it go away, but no dice - it was such an EMERGENCY that I unwillingly had to be that particular nasty son-of-a-bitch who spews nastiness on top of a load of TP, and then covers it up with even more TP, cause this was a serious "multi-wiper".

I was so shamed by this, yet in my advanced years I knew it to be completely irresponsible to just slink away and act like nothing happened.

So I actually went to the guy taking money at the door inside and asked if he knew where a plunger was... "What!?", he says... I say "Look man, this is embarrassing, but if you have a plunger, I'll take care of it myself even... I'm really sorry". He thinks a little and half-sighs and says "No man, I'll call somebody, don't worry about it."

I didn't have to put myself through all that, but fuck it - why ignore it and then ANOTHER motherfucker shits and tries to flush, then the whole thing overflows with shitty water everywhere... if nothing else, I helped prevent that, so the hell with it.

Being old = having a conscience, sometimes.

(Plus, I was quite grateful that the Knitting Factory had halfway decent bathrooms complete with working stall doors that closed and sufficient TP, otherwise, I hate to fucking imagine the alternative...)

So I'm 19 (legal drinking age is 18 in Australia), and I'm feeling all rad because I've been drinking at bars legally for the last year. I'm having post-work drinks with my older sister and her boyfrioend and their friends which included some cute girls who are about two or three years older than me. So there I am, kinda getting drunk, holding an Imperial Pint full of beer, trying my best to look cool and sound cooler in hopes of impressing at least one of these "older women".

So we're all talking and my elbow is resting on the edge of the table. Being slightly drunk, my elbow slips off the table and it's the arm that is holding an almost completely full glass of beer. I proceeded to throw beer up underneath my glasses and into my eyes.

Needless to say, I didn't impress anyone and I think I spent the rest of the evening talking to my sisters boyfriend who didn't see it happen.

Colonic Panel wrote:Now I was shivering with cold while still struggling desperately to contain the colonic pressure.

Colonic Panic?