Post Your Most Famous 'Sharts' Here...
I won't reveal mine until at least 5 others post first...then I won't be so insecure about it.
shareFor the next five days, I will reveal my top five memorable sharts.
Clocking in at #5..."I Just Painted the Bathroom a New Color".
I'll set the mood. I'm a 19 year old student bachelor at the time. I've met this delightful girl a few nights prior. We've exchanged numbers and after conversing on the phone, we've agreed to go out for dinner and "see where the night goes". She's also a university student living at some off campus housing with some other brauds.
Anyways, the day of the shart. I wake up at the crack of noon. I roll a joint, hit up my back patio, and let the afternoon melt away. Fast forward to 2:30pm...I'm comfortably high right now, and 7 o'clock dinner reservations seem like an eternity away. I cave and decide I'll have a late lunch. At this time, I lived off campus as well, and money wasn't something I had plenty of. I did a quick overview of my funds and realized I have just enough to cover dinner for both of us, a pack of condoms, and gas for my car to get us there and back. I had a few options to play out here.
1.) Call up Pizza Hut. Order two large pizzas...eat one and a half, bring over the leftovers to her house and say "Here's dinner". The problem is Pizza Hut is *beep* expensive. I could bypass the condoms, hope she's on the pill or make a quickfire jimmyhat out of plastic wrap and orthodontist elastics. As for the gas situation, I could just pull the "Half Baked" and suggest an evening walk.
2.) I don't pick her up, order 2 pizzas entirely for myself, order some PPV porn and have a threesome with both of my hands. Perhaps I would even break out the fleshlight if I was in the mood.
3.) Follow the original gameplan and find something in my bare cupboard. Continue with date later that night.
To my dismay, I went with option #3. I raided my cupboard and found some massive can of Stagg Extra Spicy Chili. Now, before I go any further, let me tell you something...I love my food spicy. I'm not talking "Oh, that has some kick" kind of spicy. I'm talking about keeling over the toilet bowl in excruciating pain as you feel like you're crapping out every one of your organs kind of spicy, praying to God to either kill you now or stop this blinding pain. It feels like someone is inside your body lighting each piece of *beep* on fire and sending it out your a-hole. That's me. I'm THAT kind of spicy.
So, as one can assume, I don't find Stagg Extra Spicy Chili all that spicy. In fact, it's rather tame. I have to kick it up. I break out my habanero and chipotle hot sauces and start laying it in huge. Halfway through, the cap to my chipotle sauce pops off and out pours half a bottle into this chili. I was once again faced with two options...suck it up and eat some spicy ass chipotle chili, or be an A-1 pussy and throw it out, effectively starving myself to death.
Of course, I went with option #1. I wolfed this bowl of chili back so fast and to my surprise, it didn't feel all that spicy. This was, as I've come to find out from doctors, a result of years of smoking marijuana and cigarettes on a daily basis. But as they say in Mexico, you may get it past your mouth, but the a-hole never lies, esse.
I showered, shaved, cleaned myself up and headed out for my date. I pick her up, she looks dazzling. I'm getting some tail end hornyness coming from the weed I smoked several hours earlier. I just want to eat a meal, take her home and ravage the *beep* out of her box. Unfortunately, that wasn't in the cards that night, as my bowels had other plans. I think it should be mentioned that when it came to dinner service, I opted for Spicy Pad Thai...a favorite of mine. This was mistake #2. The Thais do two things well...spicy food and underage hookers.
We finished dinner. She had to be a greedy bitch and get a slice of cake. I opted for coffee (a little known main contributor to excessive sharting). We flirted a bit, and we decide to head back to her place. I'm running this thing now. I'm porn kissing her right up to her door. She's getting into it, and I ask "are your roommates home?". A valid question, as I expect to moan very loudly in complete ecstasy. She tells me no and goes on to further say that they'll be gone the entire weekend. Phew. I can throw down some serious "O" faces and not have to worry about her roommates thinking I'm murdering her in there.
We get in, I throw her on the bed like a pro. And this, my friends, is where it begins. I'm starting to kiss her when I feel the first "bubble". You know, that warning sign before every great shart. It's like your bowels are sending a last minute "we're going down" S.O.S call to your stomach. Like a true maverick, I thought I could fight through it. I've never had sexual intercourse that had lasted more than 6 minutes at this point, so I think "What's the worst that could happen?"....oh, boy. Someone is about to get introduced to the worst possible thing that could happen.
You get to a point when you have diarrhea where your ass basically takes control. It tells the body "Alright, enough, I'm taking it from here". That was exactly the stage I was at as I took off my shirt and began to start laying the licks down. All of a sudden, the first quake. A fart so wet that she herself initially thought it was fake. I tried to pass it off as her queefing but she wouldn't have any of it. A moment of awkwardness ensued as I scrambled to cover it up. "Damn Thai food", I say. She lets out a forced giggle and buries her face with a pillow. At this point, I'm worrying. I don't want to feel down there, but I know that I've reached the leakage stage...Oh my...I've just sharted. I still have my pants on and I decide that I'm going to b-line it for the bathroom. I tell her that I need to take a leak, but I think she has a clue what's going on now. I clench my ass cheeks tighter than a 12 year old asian girl and head straight for the toilet. Once I'm in there, it was like my ass just knew it was in the presence of a toilet and immediately let go. Another massive shart, this time with my pants around my ankles, effectively stink spraying the entire bathroom. I kid you not...the sink...the toilet...the tub...the towel rack...nothing was spared in my shart's wake. It was like watching "Scanners" where the heads would explode and send pieces of brain everywhere. It was a sight for scat-o-maniacs to behold.
Panic set in and I raced to clean up this mess. There was no doubt that she heard it and the cliched "Is everything okay in there" came from her room. I played it off as just a joke and said "Damn Thai food" once again. This time, she wasn't forcing any laughter. I tried to clean, but I just smeared. I tried to spray some air freshener, but it just mixed in with the shart stench and created this terrible pot-pourri/shart hybrid smell that is kind of like when a guy with really bad B.O. tries to cover it up with Old Spice. I thought of escaping through the window, but my keys were in my jacket...my jacket was on her floor. At this point, I hear a scream come from her room. I was so desperately hoping that someone had broken in and murdered her, as it was becoming clear that it was my only way out of this embarrassing situation. Unfortunately, this was not the case. Instead, to my surprise, I had left an Easter trail of shart leakage from the room to the bathroom. She started off concerned, asking me if I need any help, and then changed her tune to "get the *beep* out".
Now this is the funniest part. As I cleaned it off the white sink and the white toilet and the off-white wall, I realized something. With the giant can of chili I had eaten previously, it had left my fecal matter with an orange hue. I swear to god this stuff stained worse than bleach. I scrubbed and scrubbed but was only left with big orange splotches everywhere. I planned my exit from the bathroom, telling her I'm not feeling well and asking for my jacket and shirt. She met me outside the door with said clothing and I ran out of the house with just my jacket on. I booked out of there fast like I had just pulled a jewel heist. I'm panicking, wondering what kind of impact this will have on my social life if it does indeed get out. The story ends with a whimper as it's never brought up again. Mostly because I texted her and told her that if she tells anyone I'll spread a rumor about her loving anal sex.
That is story #5. #4 TOMORROW. OR SUNDAY BECAUSE I HAVE A WEDDING TOMORROW. Perhaps tomorrow could BE story #4 if I play my sharts right.
/Shart
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FOR YOUR HEALTH
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That was a tremendous way to kick off the list, my friend, and I certainly feel your "bubbly" pain! Also, great point about the coffee - another reason why I shy away from the black stuff more often than not. I may be more tired and slightly less productive at work, but in the end it is a wash when you consider that the alternative is replacing every coworker's productivity with dry-heaves (we have pretty close cubicles).
I am astonished that this only ranks number 5, however, being a spicy food lover in a similar "rectal ravaging" manner, I know that your last shart is only as good as the last meal.
Keep up the good work!
Recently, I entered an eating contest at the finest wing eating establishment in the area, Quaker Steak and Lube. In the preliminary round, where I only had to beat a time to enter the final round, I decimated all previous entrants attempts by finishing the plate in a mere 3.1 seconds. Not satisfied by 8 chicken wings with a side of fries, I continued on that night to eat another 30 or so wings all in a period of less than an hour. The finals for the competition were the following week, and I arrived after devouring what I like to call "2nd dinner" at 7pm, sat down for the competition at the end of the long table set up for the purpose of this contest. There were 5 other contestants, one happened to be an actual pig, and another a 3/4 horsepower garbage disposer. The wings were all coated with what can only be described as a mix of the suns corona and hydrochloric acid. The fries were made from potatoes left over from the famine of 1845, and had been slightly overdone. Furthermore the ketchup was runny. The following events transpired in under 3 seconds, but after reviewing them in super-slow-motion, the account was verified. The manager of the Quaker Steak and Lube gave the commencement signal, and the competition began with a flurry of wing sauce being slung about the room from wings being brought from plate to mouth so rapidly. All except for myself, who initially belched so loud the cars in the parking lot had their alarms go off, and an elderly woman fainted because she swore the devil himself had spoken. After this belch, which registered a 4.1 on the Richter scale, the garbage disposer was halfway done with the wings, and the pig had eaten half of one of the other contestants, and I was about to get started. With one movement I picked up all of the wings stripped them to the bone, swallowed and threw down the bare bones. Next I used my other hand and attempted to pick up the fries, but as I had just used my dominant left hand for the wings, I moved so fast with my right hand that I missed the fries and picked up the whole tray. Undeterred, I finished the tray a mere half second before the garbage disposer finished the the rest of it's fries. Although I had won the competition I continued on and wrestled the pig, cooked it and ate it, including it's contents of the other contestant.
A few days later, I had to switch apartment complexes after I sharted. 10 people were killed and 31 were injured.
I give that story a 21-shart salute. An absolute gem. Shart and sweet. It was shart-breaking. I laugh, I cried, but more importantly, I sharted.
Amazing stuff. It's inspired me to follow up on my promise to rock the sharts and continue what I sharted. Tomorrow...my story that, I promise, will make the world look at sharting in a completely different light.
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