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Shart 2024: What's that spot on the bathroom floor?


Prepuce of Doom

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First of all, user name acknowledged. After almost having to join team shart today (2 mins from an explosion and 15 mins from the office) I'm thinking about start a new website called "Where to take a dump in Texas". It will be broken down by city and county and will list the cleanest places for an emergency stop. If you're in your hometown, you probably have emergency locations mapped out in your head. But for the traveler wanting avoid a shart, it could be a valuable and money making tool. 

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On 1/19/2024 at 2:10 PM, Crapinon said:

First of all, user name acknowledged. After almost having to join team shart today (2 mins from an explosion and 15 mins from the office) I'm thinking about start a new website called "Where to take a dump in Texas". It will be broken down by city and county and will list the cleanest places for an emergency stop. If you're in your hometown, you probably have emergency locations mapped out in your head. But for the traveler wanting avoid a shart, it could be a valuable and money making tool. 

In times of emergency I stop at a hotel, walk in like I am a guest, and look for the lobby shitter. Even better if the pool room is unlocked. Those babies are usually pristine. 

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Well, I think we can hand me the crown right now.  Just tossed another pair of underwear at work.  Again, I have colitis, so there's a reasonable explanation.   I am going to start Rinvoq likely next week, or whenever my insurance approves it.  But I go from zero to "I need to be on the shitter STAT!" in about 20-30 seconds.  And there's no holding it back.  It's the weirdest thing.  I've always been able to hold it, but I just can't.  This is the worst.  Not the haha shart post.

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Well, I think we can hand me the crown right now.  Just tossed another pair of underwear at work.  Again, I have colitis, so there's a reasonable explanation.   I am going to start Rinvoq likely next week, or whenever my insurance approves it.  But I go from zero to "I need to be on the shitter STAT!" in about 20-30 seconds.  And there's no holding it back.  It's the weirdest thing.  I've always been able to hold it, but I just can't.  This is the worst.  Not the haha shart post.

You’re exempt. Nothing funny about your condition.

Funny sharts have to be hangover or diet related.
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Welp, I'm on the board. 

Thought that I barely squeaked by, but upon immediate review, the officials in the booth found enough evidence to overturn the call on the field. 

Just barely enough to qualify on a technicality, but a shart is like being pregnant or dead - it is or it isn't. 

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6 minutes ago, Prepuce of Doom said:

Welp, I'm on the board. 

Thought that I barely squeaked by, but upon immediate review, the officials in the booth found enough evidence to overturn the call on the field. 

Just barely enough to qualify on a technicality, but a shart is like being pregnant or dead - it is or it isn't. 

Every fart releases at least microscopic fecal material. So using your definition, we have all failed. Every day. 

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2 hours ago, nnm said:

Every fart releases at least microscopic fecal material. So using your definition, we have all failed. Every day. 

Youre Wrong John C Mcginley GIF

 

Until there is visually confirmable evidence there is no shart.

 

Its in the rulebook.  Sect. 6.5  a, b and d

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Despite being a regular contributor to these threads in the past, I really did have a good run going over the last year. Apart from a truly catastrophic shart that cost me my underwear and my long johns around this time last winter, it had been smooth sailing and I had been shart-free for about a year. I had gotten a handle on things and corrected some lifestyle habits (beer and bean and cheese tacos on the same day seemed to be a major culprit). Well, that all came to an end as my slightly hungover self was walking up the stairs with my morning coffee. Pushing off on the last step at the top of the landing, I decided to let a little air out and.... splat! Full bowlegged waddle to the bathroom, disrobing after a major league home run shot that blasted through both underwear and pants alike. 

Stepping into the shower I was thinking WTF? Where in the hell did that come from?!  Then I started reconstructing yesterday's events.....

1. You f'n judged at a chili cookoff yesterday, Marfa. You judged F'N BEANS at the final table, Marfa.
2. You drank a f'n 12 pack at the contest you dumb shit and then your drunk ass ate a pint of gotdamn icecream before you passed out.

I have no one and I mean NO ONE to blame but myself. 

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On 1/21/2024 at 10:34 AM, Kennythetiger said:

In times of emergency I stop at a hotel, walk in like I am a guest, and look for the lobby shitter. Even better if the pool room is unlocked. Those babies are usually pristine. 

I spent 10+ years in sales then managing national accounts.  So, lots of time on the road.  What you're describing was commonly referred to as the "Hampton Inn Pit Stop".  In the front door like you own the place, take care of business, slide out the side door.  Nobody uses the lobby restroom at a hotel.  Absolutely spotless 99% of the time.  

Another great option is high-end office buildings.  I'd head out super early, catch some coffee, and find a nice office building around 7:30 AM before any of the office folk showed up.  Almost always freshly cleaned and not a soul in sight.  

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2 minutes ago, Spaulding Smails said:

I spent 10+ years in sales then managing national accounts.  So, lots of time on the road.  What you're describing was commonly referred to as the "Hampton Inn Pit Stop".  In the front door like you own the place, take care of business, slide out the side door.  Nobody uses the lobby restroom at a hotel.  Absolutely spotless 99% of the time.  

There are few things better than waltzing into a hotel you're not staying at and obliterating the nearly-always freshly cleaned bathroom in total privacy without a soul around.... but you're missing one small thing....   and that is when you walk out, they thank you. Epic. 

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So…my apologies to anyone within 1000 yards of the Far West HEB. Did I shart? Oh, most definitely. It was a full-on blowout of gas and material. Did I manage to do so in the store’s shitter? Yes, by a miracle, which I attribute to the divine intercession of Saint Flatulus, patron saint of the intestinaly afflicted.
I ate Indian food for lunch - very veggie heavy. Then I had a dinner and gave a presentation tonight. Even while up at the podium, the gurgles were uncomfortable. Then afterwards, I had to schmooze. Then, I had to walk a colleague back to her car (I really didn’t want to say “hold on for 5-10 minutes while I befoul the shitter here”). So, I held it. Then got in the car to head to HEB. Still holding it. Because I’m a daredevil gambler at heart. And when I got to HEB, did I get behind someone going .0000005 mph through the lot? Of course I did, as beads of sweat started popping from my forehead. I park, grab my bags, toss them in a cart, go inside, immediately park said cart…doing the pinch waddle the entire time.
At least the shitter was empty. But the volume, both in gallons and decibels, of what came out violated numerous state and federal laws and regulations. It was the kind of explosive event that leaves you exhausted. But I still had a lot of shopping to do.
Which I did. With pretty low energy. And a few residual gas leaks. Which I held as I entered the aisle with the very curvy lady in her yoga pants and sports bra. Holy crap, she was amazing. I thought of trying to impress her with “so…I just totally destroyed the second stall in the men’s room. Perhaps you heard me?”…but ultimately thought better of it.
Did my underwear survive? Turns out that it did. I’m as surprised as the rest of y’all.

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Oh the irony.  I just picked up Indian food for dinner.   Fucking delicious Chicken Saag and Chicken Tikka Marsala.  Couple orders of garlic naan.  It's cold and wet here, and the food was nothing short of delicious.  About 30 minutes later, I'm sprinting for the bathroom.  Made it just in time, thankfully. 

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Kind of had the shits this morning, but nothing after 1PM, so I thought I was in the clear. Was out for a stroll this evening and after the first mile I sensed a little disruption but certainly nothing that couldn't wait another 30-40 minutes. About 5 minutes later, it was evident that my previous assessment was flawed. I head back from whence I came which takes  me past Hancock golf course. I contemplated taking a shit right there as it was dark out,  but as I was now only .5 mi from the home throne and feeling confident, I soldiered on. That home stretch up Red River got a bit dicey.

shartwalk.gif.6a1c2d296a36c4683881f22825928722.gif

Had to stop a block from my house, cease all movement, take some deep breaths and just concentrate on not shitting myself for a minute. I barely made it home and executed the classic airborne spin/shorts drop as my ass exploded immediately on contact with the seat.  If I'm being honest, I'm pretty sure there was a negligible amount of leakage betwixt my cheeks, but all fabrics were clean. As nothing can be proven at this point, I'm going to consider my record still unblemished in '24. 

 

 

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Was using the urinal this weekend and halfway through my piss a rush of warm swamp water tried to cannon blast its way out of my ass. Luckily the sphincter E stop engaged and I choked it off and finished off in the stall. I checked for any stains but I was clear 

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On 2/9/2024 at 3:19 PM, MissingInAction said:

64 days of of daylight then the darkness came.

Right during a team's meeting. A real cheek flapper mud butt episode.

Luckily my ample back side was able prevent any soiling of garments.

It's been an honor, gentlemen.

Hello darkness my old friend

I've come to talk with you again

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On 2/6/2024 at 9:49 PM, Brisketexan said:

So…my apologies to anyone within 1000 yards of the Far West HEB. Did I shart? Oh, most definitely. It was a full-on blowout of gas and material. Did I manage to do so in the store’s shitter? Yes, by a miracle, which I attribute to the divine intercession of Saint Flatulus, patron saint of the intestinaly afflicted.
I ate Indian food for lunch - very veggie heavy. Then I had a dinner and gave a presentation tonight. Even while up at the podium, the gurgles were uncomfortable. Then afterwards, I had to schmooze. Then, I had to walk a colleague back to her car (I really didn’t want to say “hold on for 5-10 minutes while I befoul the shitter here”). So, I held it. Then got in the car to head to HEB. Still holding it. Because I’m a daredevil gambler at heart. And when I got to HEB, did I get behind someone going .0000005 mph through the lot? Of course I did, as beads of sweat started popping from my forehead. I park, grab my bags, toss them in a cart, go inside, immediately park said cart…doing the pinch waddle the entire time.
At least the shitter was empty. But the volume, both in gallons and decibels, of what came out violated numerous state and federal laws and regulations. It was the kind of explosive event that leaves you exhausted. But I still had a lot of shopping to do.
Which I did. With pretty low energy. And a few residual gas leaks. Which I held as I entered the aisle with the very curvy lady in her yoga pants and sports bra. Holy crap, she was amazing. I thought of trying to impress her with “so…I just totally destroyed the second stall in the men’s room. Perhaps you heard me?”…but ultimately thought better of it.
Did my underwear survive? Turns out that it did. I’m as surprised as the rest of y’all.

This is epic. You, sir are a true Shakespeare. My only criticism is, "was it a true shart if you deposited said filth in time before ruining your loincloth?"

By the way I'm typing this just after putting my toilet into some form of therapy after eating meatloaf and hot wings for supper last night.

One more day of shart free living for me. 

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On 2/9/2024 at 5:19 PM, MissingInAction said:

64 days of of daylight then the darkness came.

Right during a team's meeting. A real cheek flapper mud butt episode.

Luckily my ample back side was able prevent any soiling of garments.

It's been an honor, gentlemen.

 

 

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On 2/11/2024 at 3:36 AM, Longhornstampede said:

This is epic. You, sir are a true Shakespeare. My only criticism is, "was it a true shart if you deposited said filth in time before ruining your loincloth?"

By the way I'm typing this just after putting my toilet into some form of therapy after eating meatloaf and hot wings for supper last night.

One more day of shart free living for me. 

This is the question.  And I don't think the answer is yet.  It's a photo finish for sure.  But a shart includes accidental deposits.

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50 minutes ago, Sbbruin said:

This is the question.  And I don't think the answer is yet.  It's a photo finish for sure.  But a shart includes accidental deposits.

I think we have to apply the “reasonable person” standard here. The word shart necessarily implies a mistake of apprehension. We expected a fart, and shit was the result. 

Would a reasonable person consider an episode of violently explosive diarrhea that occurred within a public toilet a “shart,” or the microscopic deposits of fecal dust left behind in the course of normal flatulence?  Probably not.

On the other hand, I think we would all agree that when anticipated flatulence yields semi-solid material in addition to gas with the result of soiled clothing, that’s a true “shart.” At a bare minimum I think the combination of unpleasant surprise or at least very short (I.e. at the moment of expulsion) notice with visual or tangible material evidence is required. 
The corner case is the “immaculate shart:” you felt it, and yet when you checked there was no material to be found. 

Edited by Bozo_Casanova
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Traveling abroad for the next two weeks. I haven’t had a stomach issue while traveling for at least 30 years, but this morning I woke up with the squirts and aches and pains. So far my jockeys are clear, but …

tumblr_n730psb5ks1qzgghgo1_500.gif

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  • 1 month later...
  • 2 weeks later...
Posted (edited)

OK I have a story to tell. It is time to come clean. This is a from a few years ago, but I am only now beginning to heal the emotional scars.

So I do a loop around Dallas on my bike. It's maybe 40 miles. I am on a road bike, Spandexed out, I have to take some actual surface streets in addition to bike paths, including Hillcrest north of Highway 12. I go through White Rock Lake, down to the AAC, and then up the Katy Trail and past SMU.

The last bit is the relevant part. Highland park is residential, mostly. So I am going north on Hillcrest past SMU, having a grand old time. Feeling great. And I feel and hear The Gurgle. Pressure. I know there are only private homes. Rich people who do NOT want to talk to me. My gut told me I was fighting a lost cause. Fecal urgency soon turned into a lack of fecal urgency. And that's when I discovered how lucky I was.

Now the key here is my outfit. I have boxer briefs, of the polyester variety. On top of that, spandex. Two layers. It formed a container of sorts. If you can imagine. Biker shorts are tight on the legs, so the don't slide while riding. All black, so I'm good there. After proceeding a bit, I was confident that I was watertight. Had to be at least a liter of fluid like substance back there.

This of course created a small difficulty, in that there is a seat on the bike. I could not imagine that squishy feeling of sitting on it. Worried I might lose containment, I refused to sit , I stood on the pedals the whole way home. Like the rape scene in 300, I did not enjoy it, and it was not over quickly. I had like five miles to go with a couple major intersections.

The piece de resistance of the entire glorious event was the shower scene. You really haven't lived until you enter a room with a liter of poop in your undies. After rushing past others so they would hopefully not find out what happened (I did not make eye contact), I walked fully clothed into the shower. It was fairly emotional. I do not like poop, it makes me dry heave. But there was waffle stomping that day, believe me. It was like something out of The Shining. The shower was of the straight down sort, so the pieces got all spread out and I had to really focus on getting all the stray bits. There wasn't merely a crime, there was also the coverup.

Something like that really changes your perspective on things. I have other stories that shall not be told. 

Edited by Thetexashammer
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3 hours ago, NeverMarryAStripper said:

Shart = combination of the words shit and fart.  A liter of diarrhea in your pansy ass  bIke outfit belongs in the I fucking shit myself thread.

It was a well told I fucking shit myself story though

"I shit myself" stories are always welcome here, too. In some ways, it's a distinction without a difference... 

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On 4/19/2024 at 9:25 PM, Thetexashammer said:

OK I have a story to tell. It is time to come clean. This is a from a few years ago, but I am only now beginning to heal the emotional scars.

So I do a loop around Dallas on my bike. It's maybe 40 miles. I am on a road bike, Spandexed out, I have to take some actual surface streets in addition to bike paths, including Hillcrest north of Highway 12. I go through White Rock Lake, down to the AAC, and then up the Katy Trail and past SMU.

The last bit is the relevant part. Highland park is residential, mostly. So I am going north on Hillcrest past SMU, having a grand old time. Feeling great. And I feel and hear The Gurgle. Pressure. I know there are only private homes. Rich people who do NOT want to talk to me. My gut told me I was fighting a lost cause. Fecal urgency soon turned into a lack of fecal urgency. And that's when I discovered how lucky I was.

Now the key here is my outfit. I have boxer briefs, of the polyester variety. On top of that, spandex. Two layers. It formed a container of sorts. If you can imagine. Biker shorts are tight on the legs, so the don't slide while riding. All black, so I'm good there. After proceeding a bit, I was confident that I was watertight. Had to be at least a liter of fluid like substance back there.

This of course created a small difficulty, in that there is a seat on the bike. I could not imagine that squishy feeling of sitting on it. Worried I might lose containment, I refused to sit , I stood on the pedals the whole way home. Like the rape scene in 300, I did not enjoy it, and it was not over quickly. I had like five miles to go with a couple major intersections.

The piece de resistance of the entire glorious event was the shower scene. You really haven't lived until you enter a room with a liter of poop in your undies. After rushing past others so they would hopefully not find out what happened (I did not make eye contact), I walked fully clothed into the shower. It was fairly emotional. I do not like poop, it makes me dry heave. But there was waffle stomping that day, believe me. It was like something out of The Shining. The shower was of the straight down sort, so the pieces got all spread out and I had to really focus on getting all the stray bits. There wasn't merely a crime, there was also the coverup.

Something like that really changes your perspective on things. I have other stories that shall not be told. 

 

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