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When I was 12 a family friend took my little brother and me fishing in wisconson for a long 4 day weekend. We stayed in a small cabin that his Uncle owned about 3 blocks away from a lake. The first day we caught lots of fish, mostly lake perch (I don't like fish much, but these were rather tasty). The second day not so many fish. So we were forced to eat the food that was left in the cabin. After several minutes of looking at our choices my brother and I decided on the canned Hormel Chilli over the spam. Note: my mother cooked everything pretty much from scratch. I don't think either of us had ever had canned chilli.
The next day we hit the lake around 5AM. We were determined to catch enough fish for dinner that night. After about four hours on the boat my stomach began to rumble. Like someone had mentioned earlier in this thread- not the I'm hungry stomach rumble, but the I have to find the nearest bathroom now stomach rumble. Being 12 I was too embarrassed to say that I had to go to the bathroom, so I did what most 12 year olds do- I whined that I wanted to stop fishing and to head in. Our family friend would have none of that. He refused to stop fishing and in true older guy trying to teach younger guy a lesson fashion he became more determined to fish for even longer. Apparently my brother felt the same way about going in, but decided to keep his mouth shut. So around noon, after 7 hours on the boat, our host decides that it's time to stop for the day. Now I've had to go for about 3 hours. We had rented one of those 10 foot flat bottomed john boats, so we were able to troll the boat directly on to the beach. Before the boat stopped moving my brother and I had already jumped out of it and were fast running the three blocks to the cabin, each with one hand on our respective asses. The hands helped, but did little to prevent the ensuing chocolate flood as we managed to leave behind a trail of shit that followed us from the beach to the cabin bathroom. Being a little older and faster I beat my brother to the only bathroom. I managed to clean myself up a little bit and pretend that I did not just shit my pants. I threw away my underwear and shorts and wanted to pretend the whole thing never happened. My brother, fearing that our mother would be angry, decided to put his dirty clothes in the back of the 100 degree station wagon. We had to drive half way home with the windows rolled down. Fuck Hormel Chilli.

nteresting that it made you able to make throw every time after he yelled at you. Did you ever read this?

as a matter of fact, yes, and it rang a bell

this guy had no master plan, however, to create a bunch of supertough, upstanding ballplayers. he was just pissed off that i wasn't getting the job done, in his eyes.

Fuck Hormel Chilli.

incredible, bob. all the stories of sexual humiliation and pissing and shitting one's pants, yet they are all subtly different and equally great.

tmidgett wrote:incredible, bob. all the stories of sexual humiliation and pissing and shitting one's pants, yet they are all subtly different and equally great.

Indeed; I've been trying to come up with a terse enough way of sharing my story about pants-shitting but have thus far come up bankrupt. I think the problem is that there isn't very much unique or funny about the story, other than having to then drive my then-girlfriend and I to my grandmother's house so I could shower, change into a robe, and drive back across town to her place again.

On second thought, maybe that IS the whole story.

My 2nd oldest brother, Patrick, had Down’s Syndrome. Two stories, I don't know how funny they'll be.

1.

This one’s best when my mother tells it.

My mother was sitting in a doctor’s waiting room with Patrick, who was maybe aged 11 or 12 twelve, putting his mental state more at the level of a 5 year-old. They were alone until a middle-aged woman walked in and sat down. This was the mid eighties and the woman had an exceptional amount of make up on, enough that anyone would be hard pressed not to stare.


Patrick pointed and said “LOOK MOM, IT’S A CLOWN!!â€

I think I was about ten when the following happened: It was a beautiful late summer day and I was on our yard eating gooseberries straight from the bush. The bushes are under an apple tree. Suddenly the girl next door who was a few years older than me appeared on her side of the yard and asked if the gooseberries where already ripe. Just as I was about to answer her, an apple fell and hit me directly on the head. I tried to think fast: How should I react? What should I say? Finally I came to the conclusion that in order to seem like a cool and tough kid I should act like nothing happened, so I just told her that yes, some of the berries are indeed ripe. The girl quickly walked away but I could still hear her burst out laughing behind the house. Nice.

About 15 minutes into the film Genine accidentally knocked her enormous cup of orange soda over the ledge onto the audience below.

Disaster!

Cheers to you being able to keep your composure at the age of 13

For my 26th birthday my girlfriend and i went to Louisville. Upon checking into our shitty motel we begin to celebrate.
Nude and in the midst of some festive fellatio, the fucking front door opens.
A middle aged woman (with a key) walks in and exclaims "Oh shit!"
Then she splits.
I guess the hotel clerk fucked up and gave out the same room twice.
When we chatted with him he mentioned that the woman wasn't even supposed to be in Louisville. She had been travelling with her husband when he suddenly had a heart attack. She had to get a room while he remained in critical condition at the hospital.

mendoza wrote:Nude and in the midst of some festive fellatio

oh, this remind me of a time when, long ago, in the middle of the day, eating of the pussy, I look up into my girlfriend's eyes and she start the freaking out. I look to the down and there was the blood everywhere....This was especially confusing after she says "I'm not on the rag"

.. it turned out I got a nosebleed while doing the licking of the pussy. oh so embarrassing.

another "oops, i crapped my pants" story.
6th grade. my middle school wasn't the best in pensacola. the bathroom stalls didn't have doors and the dividers weren't very tall and there was always shit smeared on the toilet seats. there was noo way i was using those bathrooms. i wouldn't even piss in there. so mid-day when i had the urge to shit, i had no idea what to do. i just figured i could hold it for a couple hours until i got home. i made it about 25 minutes before it started poking its head out. i tried my best to hold it in, but it wouldn't do. i let loose in class. a big ol' load too. i was also wearing shorts! i walked as careful as possible to the teacher and told him i was sick and i needed to check out. the whole time in the background, there were two blacks kids arguing about which one had farted, making a really big deal at how bad it stunk. i made it to the front office. called my mom. i told her i was sick and had to come home immediately. when she arrived i got into the car. she wanted to know what exactly was wrong with me. then the scent hit her. she wanted to know why the fuck i shit myself and didn't use the toilet. i sat really awkward in the car lifting my ass up so i didn't smear any of it out of my shorts and onto the car seat. cleaning that shit was fucking disgusting. it was smudged pretty bad on my ass and when i pulled off my undergarments it got all over my legs. a terrible, terrible embarrassing experience.

you know those polo shirts with the little logos on the chest, like off centered over your nipples? yeah, well, wear one of those for 8 hours and it'll rub your nips raw.

i have often been known to counteract this problem by placing a band-aid over my areola.