I’m in a slump and I can’t get out

That’s a picture of a generic bathroom and toilet.

Mine looks nothing like it. My bathroom has a TV, stereo, PS3, bookshelf and full bar. OK, there’s no bookshelf.

I made my bathroom like this because I spend more time there than I do anywhere else. The bulk of my time is spent on the toilet because I haven’t taken a proper shit in about 18 years.

I swear, I need to make a fucking appointment now to drop a deuce. Trying to run out to the 9 a.m. meeting? 7:30 date with the pot. Girl friend coming over in the evening? Cut work early and carve out time for a second shower. Having company? Make a “beer run.”

At first it was funny. And I could catch up on reading material, which is always nice. But every morning (and sometimes afternoons, nights, weekends, anniversaries, holidays) I just roll my eyes and think, “here we go again.” I’ve considered anorexia to mitigate my problem.

Sometimes things are just going well: your team is winning, your sex life is at the twice-a-day level and you’re pumping out those well-packed, one-wipe shits. Really, when things are good, they’re good.

But when things aren’t good, it just becomes embarrassing. At work, if you duck away for 45 minutes, you better have a fucking excuse.

“I was at lunch.”
“It’s 10:15.”
“I was at breakfast.”
“No you weren’t. Were you taking a crap? You were! You were taking a crap!”

I get really good at looking at my cell phone when I go back so it looks like I had a real important call that I needed to take elsewhere. But people see right through that. They know the truth…that I just set fire to the corporate john.

This Memorial Day, may your day off be nice. Mine will be spent in the bathroom.


Tom Brady shops at Whole Foods

Being Tom Brady isn’t all fun and games. The Boston Herald investigates:

Being Tom Brady isn’t all fun and games.

See? Not fun.

One minute, the two-time Super Bowl MVP is golfing with Teddy Forstmann, the head of powerhouse Hollywood talent agency IMG — the next he’s buying recycled toilet paper at Whole Foods.

Brady’s shit probably smells like bakery fresh cinnamon rolls and every time he’s on the pot he pumps out a one-wipe masterpiece.

But he does it. Even Tom Brady needs to make stew from time to time. He’s like us. Yes, Tom Brady is like you and I.

(Hand-pound: Ben Maller).

Your Wednesday bestiality fix

So this dropped in our inbox from a friend yesterday. We highly suggest you read it out loud with a coworker, but definitely not your animal-loving boss.

the other day i saw part of a documentary about that guy up in the seattle area who died a few years ago of internal injuries suffered when he let a stallion fuck him up the ass. you remember that? this guy was part of a group of people who liked to fuck horses. what i couldn’t figure out was whether taking it in the ass from the horse was their standard operating procedure if it was beyond what they normally did, and thus resulted in death. it would be hard to imagine somebody getting sodomized by a horse and NOT dying of internal injuries, no? i thought the movie would be funny but as it turned out it was just weird and disturbing and not very good. also totally disgusting.

don’t get me wrong. it isn’t that “zoo” was without its charms. there were some touching scenes, such as the one where a group of people sits around watching one of the videos confiscated from the ranch, in which a man fucks a horse. you don’t see much of the video, except for a horse on its hind quarters as though to mount a man. mostly you just see the people’s faces and hear a guy groaning. sorta groaning in the way you’d expect a guy to groan if he was getting fucked up the ass by a horse. sorta like that. also there is a part where an animal rescue worker is talking about when she came to the ranch to take away the stallion and she says “then a little pony ran up under him and started giving the stallion a blow job. it was very strange.”

The time I took an hour-long shit

Being a shitter (n. A person who takes shits) is a lot like being a baseball player.

Sometimes you’re in the zone and then you get in a slump. For one reason or another, a major leaguer, paid millions for his services, cannot for the life of him hit the ball well. Same goes for a shitter. You can be in a month-long zone where every shit you take is a well-packed turd and becomes a one-wiper. But then you fall into a slump.

I, friends, am in a slump.

Saturday night I got home around 1 a.m. and had been gassy as hell the last few hours. Probably the tacos at Jack in the Box. It would’ve been in my best interest to pump out a crap like an hour before I left where I was, but it was the wrong time, wrong place.

So I waited. Bad move.

Rule No. 1 about taking a good dump: When you first feel it, go for it. If you wait, it just makes a mess and takes a chunk out of your day.

But I broke the cardinal about taking a good dump and it cost me. Severely.

I sat down around 1:05 and everything was working fine. I settled down with a three-week-old issue of SI, read about the increasingly-popular dribble-drive-motion offense being run at many high schools and colleges, the race in the NBA Western Conference and Miguel Tejada’s hero status in the DR.

That took about 25 minutes. And I still hadn’t gotten to wiping.

Now our pal Lozo says that no crap should take longer than five minutes. Au contraire, Mr. Lozo. Au contraire. After 25 minutes, I was just getting started.

I’d prefer to not be graphic, but after about a half an hour, I still felt the pressure of some excrement, but it just couldn’t work its way out.

This is where things got dicey.

My legs were asleep, my ass was asleep and I was out of reading material. I knew I wasn’t done, but I needed aid in working the shit out of my body.

I walked around.

Pants around ankles, I walked into my living room, watched some SportsCenter and waited. It worked, too, as when I sat back down, I was able to work a bit out. But I still wasn’t done.

So I walked around some more. I thought about doing some jumping jacks, but still covered in my own feces, feared a potential spray on the white carpet.

Around 2 a.m., I was fed up. I was trying to get to bed at a reasonable time and was sick of sitting around covered in my movements.

I wiped, pulled my pants up, and walked away, pretending nothing happened.

But something clearly had. I may never be the same…

If Philip Rivers died a famous movie death…

Don’t read too much in to that headline. We do not want Philip Rivers to die a tragic, gruesome movie death. Frankly you could insert any athlete/sport figure’s name who you dislike for Rivers’.

It’s just Rivers is sorta in people’s minds and he’s really a cock-fuck who can go fuck himself. But, we must reiterate for you literal readers out there: we do not want bad things to happen to Rivers beside multiple interceptions and abstinence. This is just a fun way to talk about some awful things that could fictitiously happen to him in a fictitious movie world.

So here’s a list! Everyone loves lists. The top 10 ways to die a famous movie death…

10. Alan Rickman falls from Nakatomi Plaza in Die Hard.

There’s nothing like a long fall for Mr. Rivers. And who better to throw his ass out of a window? John McClane. Yippee-ki-yay, motherfucker. You, Philip, are the motherfucker.

9. Jon Voight gets eaten by an Anaconda in Anaconda.

Makes sense that Rivers, a giant dickbag, gets fucked up by an animal that is often used to describe a gigantic penis. Go eat a dick, Phil. Or, in this case, vice versa.

8. John Travolta gets shot while taking a shit in Pulp Fiction.

Rivers is probably like one of those rich guys in that Family Guy episode who claim his bowel movements smell like bakery fresh cinnamon rolls. Except this time, you get pumped full of led while taking your pleasant-smelling dump.

7. Elijah Wood gets his limbs cut off in Sin City.

Wood’s character in this surprisingly good movie was annoying as hell and the first thing we said when we saw it was, “it’d be cool if this guy gets his limbs sawed off.” Low and behold… But hey, it’d cut down on Rivers interception numbers.

6. Jaws explodes in Jaws.

Jaws was a badass. He probably pulled tons of fish pussy. And he went out epically. Rivers doesn’t deserve this hero’s fall, but getting your shit blown to eight million pieces is savage.

5. Dennis Hopper gets decapitated in Speed.

Yikes. This is like the one cool thing Keanu Reeves ever did. Phil’s IQ seems pretty equivalent to Keanu’s — “if this bus slows down, we are all going to die” — so a wrestling match on top of a speeding train would be pretty entertaining.

4. Steve Buscemi gets axed up and put through a wood chipper in Fargo.

This would make it hard to taunt fans…

3. Bad guy’s face melts off in Indiana Jones and Raiders of the Lost Ark.

This is one of the scariest scenes in cinema. Holy crap this freaked us out when we were 22. Man, imagine seeing this as a kid. Scary as hell. But Rivers sorta resembles our wide-mouthed friend in the photo above, so his face melting would be the obvious next step.

2. Guy gets curbed in American History X.

This is actually pretty fucked up. Yeah, this wouldn’t be funny to joke about.

1. Guy gets heart ripped out in Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom.

Rivers either doesn’t have a heart or it’s black and covered in ice. So to call upon the bad guy from Temple of Doom seems appropriate. Pull that shit out and set it on fire. Not like Rivers needs any more fire in him, though.

We’re sure we’ve left some good ones off the list. Yours please in the comments.

The Aristocrats

Seen the movie The Aristocrats? If you haven’t read this first.

Since our big plans for today fell through, we had to come up with a makeshift post. So we’re gonna have an aristocrats contest. In the comments, give us your best version of the joke. Winner gets a shoutout or link or handjob sometime next week. Bonus points if you make it sports related.

Here’s what we could come up with:

Bill Belichick walks into a talent agency. He says, “Boy, do I have the act for you.” The agent says, “OK. I’ll take a look.”

Bill is sitting in the corner and starts jerking off. Enters his ex-wife Debby and two sons, Stephen and Bryan. Bryan starts fucking his mom in the ass and Stephen starts sucking up Bill.

In comes daughter Amanda who starts tossing Stephen’s salad. Bill’s done with his hummer, and comes around Amanda and starts fucking her in the ass. Amanda, an ass virgin, loses control of her bowels and starts shitting everywhere.

In comes Grandpa who starts banging Debby, who, conveniently, is on her period. There’s still shit everywhere and Bill gets pissed at daughter Amanda and cuts off her arm with a samurai sword.

Bill then makes Stephen start fucking the hole where Amanda’s arm used to be. Everyone’s masturbating.

Bryan can’t go anymore and starts cumming everywhere. In comes Spot and he starts fucking Grandma. Grandpa gets pissed and starts fucking the dog in the ass while the pup’s giving it to Grandma.

There’s blood! There’s shit! There’s cum!

At this point, Amanda’s losing blood, everybody’s cumming and in comes Barbaro. Barbaro starts fucking Bill with his monster horse cock. Bill loses control of his bowels and he starts shitting everywhere. Debby pees on Barbaro and Barbaro releases a volcano of horse jiz all over the place.

Tom Brady, jealous of all of this, comes in and shoots everybody dead, except for Belichick. There’s more blood then both can handle and they start fucking the dead corpses. Even Barbaro gets plowed, and he’s now twice over dead.

Brady finishes his fucking and blows his load all over the shit- and blood-covered area. Belichick nuts again, all over Tom. They both hug, kiss and take a bow.

For the longest time, the agent just sits in silence. Finally, he manages, “That’s a hell of an act. What do you call it?” And Belichick says, “The Aristocrats!”