PooPourri

Came across this little gem earlier, found it hilarious. She makes pooing look sex. 

I wonder if I can get them to sponsor this blog? 

33) Address to the haggis

I've touched briefly on the Scottish and the effects of their cuisine on my bowels (I shat myself) but this entire post is dedicated to the subject and is inspired by burns night.

I've only had haggis once and that was over a decade ago, in fact burns night passes me by most years without me even realising. This year however I was treated to a nice haggis meal at my girlfriends house, it was very nice and I feel like I should have eaten haggis more often. As a side issue I don't understand  why liver, lungs and heart wrapped in stomach is an accepted dish but people turn their noses up when I order a tray of donner meat.

As I was saying the haggis was very nice, until it reached the other end that is. I developed bad wind which was worsened by the bike ride I'd been on earlier that afternoon. I spent most of the night deflating and when I awoke the next morning, the portion of my body which had been under the duvet had fermented.

I arrived at work and it soon became apparent that my 10:30 appointment was going to be moved forwards by 30-40 minutes. I touched down shortly before 10, at first it trickled and then it rained. I produced something between a type 5 and a type 6 on the Bristol stool chart. As I caught up on all things social media on my phone whilst delivering this package, I noticed a very kind gentleman had recommended my blog on his blog it's not about poo so I can't vouch for it's quality but the guy clearly has taste if he's recommending me. This evacuation was not the end of the story

I was based downstairs on this day so I was not at my usual desk however I returned frequently to get stuff from my desk and to banter hard with my usual co-workers. In fact, one such visit was intended solely for the purpose of farting in that office. I entered the room and let out a silent one before wafting a clipboard to indicate my flatulence. One lady remarked "careful you don't do what you did in that confession you made in your blog" (I knew that would come back to bite me, I just didn't expect it at work). I was however, safe, for now. As the day went on the moisture levels increased, whilst I was 99% sure I was safe there was a lingering doubt in my head that I wouldn't be. Perhaps making my confession last week has unsurfaced some suppressed anxieties?

As home time came closer the gale force winds eased off, the stomach cramps decreased and I felt like my stomach was getting back to normal. Upon arriving home shortly before 5pm I enquired about what was for tea, "haggis leftovers" came the reply. Mixed feelings. Whilst I like haggis and I like the wind, I don't like the cramps that accompany it. When tea time arrived I felt fine, the effects of the previous haggis had worn off but one hour later I was at it like a trooper again. Forget fracking just plug me in I'll power the town.

The effects of the second haggis had worn off by the time I went to bed. Much like when I go abroad it seems that my body takes a day to get used to foreign cuisine. 

31) The missing movement

I've been busy at work recently, my workload has increased and in the last two weeks I've been covering parts of two other peoples jobs so work has been quite full on. However, I have always made time for what I consider to be a god given right - my mid morning toilet break, until yesterday that is.

I started work and was powering through my to do list, a simple two minute job on the bottom floor at 9:30 was followed by me getting collared to do various different jobs and before I knew it, it was half 11 before I returned to my desk. Still yet to have a cup of tea I powered on with my work. Lunch time came and went and at 2pm it struck me "I haven't been today" and what's worse is that I didn't need too. Straight to the kitchen  for a cup of tea, it didn't work so I had two more. Nothing, I still didn't need to go and I was a little devastated that I'd missed my ritual.

Later that evening a friend suggested going for a takeaway, I was hungry so was keen to go but in the back of my mind the idea of a dodgy kebab sitting on top of an unevacuated bowel filled me with excitement. I was surely going to have an epic session come Saturday morning. I returned home about 11pm and felt a slight movement, I wasn't ready to go but it certainly felt like the factory was powering up again. This was baking nicely for the following morning.

I awoke on Saturday morning and had a leisurely breakfast, a nice strong cup of tea and I knew that in 20 minutes everything would be ready. Like clockwork I was ready to go, I let it bake for 5 more minutes before moving to the bathroom. It felt like it was going to be large so it's only natural that I recorded my pre-fight weight.

I sat down to begin to what was going to be a difficult birth. The baby must have turned at the last minute because it felt like it was coming out sideways. It was a tricky one but I soldiered on. About half way through, for the first time in my life, I became extremely jealous of anyone who had been sodomised by a black gentleman. Upon finishing I was disappointed with the result, it was a one log dump of poor length however it had a lot of girth and was extremely dense judging by the splashback when it entered the water. I did my obligatory post-faecal weighing and  was underwhelmed with the results, a measly 500g (1.1 lb). The effort put in should have yielded a much larger return.

The disappointment was quickly replaced with a sense of relief that the zero placed on my chart was a one off and that normal service was resumed.

Tales from the rim logo

Thanks to a very slow and unproductive evening, tales from the rim now has a logo courtesy of MS Paint.

It's now a brand so expect some big 6-figure merchandising deals to be announced soon.

Confessions from the tennis ball story.

I want to make a confession in today's post. This is something I have never told anyone, partly due to the embarrassment of the situation I found myself in. However, everything always comes out eventually and what better platform to do it on than this. Enjoy.

It was a pleasant spring day at the tender age of 15 and the usual Saturday routine of hanging about in town with a big group of friends was on the cards, alas only two friends showed up on this particular day. Into the local Sainsburys I went  for the usual post-lunch snack, on offer was a large packet of shortbread which I promptly bought and stuffed my face with to the point that I felt sick.

Stuck for an activity to keep us entertained for the afternoon we decided, for some unknown reason, to film a tennis ball floating along the river starting at one end of the town all the way to the other end of town. Although surprisingly fun, this activity involved a lot of running around which, on top of the vast amount of shortbread and soft drinks I had consumed, caused quite an upset in my bowels. Throughout the day my two friends complained excessively about  the foul stenches erupting from my trousers, I was in a bad state.

Towards the end of the day about 40 minutes left until our bus home, the tennis ball was rounding it's last corner before it left our wonderful town. Being a top film company we decided to get two angles of it entering the home straight so my two co-workers took up position on one side of the river and I nestled into a nice little spot on the opposite side. After a day of running around this last film position was very relaxing. Too relaxing.

Another rumble of the stomach and I let out a rancid fart. "A little moist" I thought to myself "better be careful". Still waiting for the tennis ball, I adjusted my position slightly and as I did so I had a horrible realisation that I hadn't just farted, I had fired my torpedoes in a catastrophic friendly fire incident. This was a disaster. I had followed through for the first time in my life and didn't know what to do.

I didn't let on, I got the footage I needed and shouted to my friends that there was something I'd forgotten to do and that I'd meet them at the bus stop. I squelched my way to the nearest public toilets. First and foremost I emptied myself out, banishing the rest of the demons to the porcelain prison. I cleaned my rear and my boxers up as best I could but there's only so much that dry toilet paper can do. A fierce smell still surrounded me which needed to be covered up. I had spent all my money apart from my bus fare so I couldn't go buy anything to help ease the situation. Time was ticking, my bus would leave in 5 minutes. I debated ringing my parents instead of getting on the bus but that would have opened up  a difficult conversation I was not prepared to have. My phone buzzed with a text from my friend saying that the bus would leave soon, I had to think under pressure.

I decided to make a run for the bus, en route I had a brainwave, ducked down a side street and smeared some grime from a gutter down the backside of my jeans. I made it to the bus just in time and sat down next to my friend "Christ you stink" he said, "yeah that last place I was sitting in... I sat in dog crap, I've been up at the toilets trying to wash it off." I stood up and showed him my jeans assuming that he didn't want to inspect my arse too closely. He'd bought it, a convincing cover story. I arrived home and sprinted through the living room and straight to my bedroom where the offending pants were put straight into a bin bag. The only uncharacteristic action my parents noticed was me emptying my bin. I was in the clear. All washed up, I lay down on my bed physically and emotionally exhausted. The shortbread I had consumed that day was made in Scotland and I have loathed the Scottish ever since. 

17) Rush hour

In another case of people not checking my outlook calendar, I was scheduled to be in a meeting with the CEO from 10:00 - 11:00. Despite this annoying me somewhat, I felt that I couldn't decline the meeting due to me liking to take a dump 10:30-10:45 as this could impact negatively on my already very shaky job security. Selflessly I decided that I would poo another time.

At 10am everything was feeling steady in the lower regions of my digestive system so off to the meeting I went. First things first, a cup of tea. It soon became apparent that this was a major error. By 10:15 I had finished my cup of tea and shortly after 10:20 the caffeine had started working it's magic on my bowels. Organisational quality audits aren't the most riveting meeting topics at the best of times let alone when I'm having contractions every 2 minutes and I'm severely dilated.

The meeting seemed to be drawing to a close so a toilet break was out of the question. My stomach churned once more, an air bubble appeared to drop down ' I could relieve some pressure here' I thought to myself. I immediately decided this would be a bad idea but my bowels thought otherwise and was trying to force it out, I clenched at the last moment forcing it back up but the tiniest of farts slipped out 'it's ok' I thought 'it was just a pinch, it will be unnoticeable'

Ten seconds later it was very noticeable, not particularly foul but it was obvious someone had farted. In a meeting consisting of just 2 people (one of which is me) this was awkward, I glanced desperately around hoping there was a dog I could blame it on but there wasn't and the meeting continued awkwardly. "You'll need the investors in people report as evidence for this section" she said. Investors in people?!? I don't see how any organisation which schedules meetings across my toilet break is deserving of an investors in people award, perhaps if I contact them and tell them I had to push my bowel movement back to 11:00 they might revoke the award.

As I pulled out my phone to put the date of the next meeting in my calendar I noticed my brother had text me a rather amusing description of his bowel movements. This was intended to be a humours text but was instead just a cruel reminder that I wasn't on my throne. I was reasonably certain that he was still seated and taking part in his morning ritual and this hurt me emotionally. It's not enough that he has a better job and a better car than me but he also has a much more relaxed sphincter.

Thankfully the meeting finished 15 minutes early. I entered defcon 5 and headed to the toilet at speed. I passed a colleague on the stairs who stopped to talk, thankfully I knew them well enough to be able to shout "can't stop, I'm crowning". Luck was on my side as I arrived at the toilet, the phantom seat warmer was no where to be seen. Usual procedures were bypassed, the door wasn't locked (that could wait), pants removed at speed instead of the usual leisurely fashion and my phone remained in my pocket. Within a fraction of a second of touching down I had opened fire, giving it everything I could, I had gone through an entire box of ammo in 10 seconds, it looked like there had been a massacre. With that over I sat back in what felt like a post-orgasmic state, flicked the lock on the door fought the urge to drift off to sleep. My work here was done.

  

13) Give it 5.

I was a victim of  a horrible incident in the work place today. As per any other day, I was two cups of tea down and it was 10:30, which can only mean one thing: toilet time. This is a time of day I have come to enjoy very much, a break from work to read a book, do a Sudoku or just catch up with the news on my phone.

Where I work there is a single gents cubicle and today it was occupied... at 10:30! That's my time! Do people not check my outlook calendar? This, however, is not an unusual event. The felon in question seems to be on the same cycle as me, our periods have synced. Even when I've pre-empted him and gone earlier he is there, always 5 minutes before me. However, today was a particularly urgent day. I simply couldn't afford to do some more work and check back in 20 minutes. I took cover in a meeting room, making a half arsed attempt to look busy by setting up a laptop, whilst constantly maintaining visual contact with the toilet door.

Many minutes later, with the meeting room full with a thick layer of odorous gas, the toilet was empty. I pounced. One of the greatest things about my toilet break is removing my pants and freeing my derrière from the confines of clothing into the comparatively cool, fresh air. As I place myself onto the cold, refreshing toilet seat, it ceases to exist as a toilet: it becomes a throne fit for any king. The stresses of the days work vanish, there is no world beyond the four walls of the cubicle, for a few minutes everyday the cooling sensation of the toilet seat gives me a glimpse into what heaven is like and makes me want to be a better person. Today, this simple pleasure was ruined, today the seat was warm. I was uneasy, I couldn't focus, I couldn't enjoy my daily ritual knowing that I was essentially rubbing butts with my co-worker. The toilet is my one true love and today it had been with another man, I was devastated.

Today was a get in, get out, job done, back to work day, a day where no Sudoku was solved, no news checked, no pages turned. If you, like me, have a ritual, remember to leave it 5, let the seat cool down.

5- Curing two itches - The story behind the safety shot

New years day had already seen a flurry of activity with 4 impressively violent toilet breaks before midday. The day, however, was not over yet.

Whilst walking round Bristol city centre shaking off the previous nights hangover we stopped at a Weatherspoons for afternoon tea. I faced a tricky dilemma: I quite fancied a nice real ale but was also gasping for a cup of tea. Why not have both? This idea was lauded as 'genius' and 'brilliant' by some whilst others called me a 'fucking idiot'.

The plan was a great success: two cravings had been satisfied and I felt like a cat rubbing against it's favourite scratching post. I then tried an even more genius plan of mixing the last of my beer with the last of my tea. This was delicious.  However, as I stared at the remains of the cocktail, I suddenly thought "this is curdling in my stomach", down the hatch it went.

Waiting at the bus stop with mild stomach cramps, I let out a large bum sneeze which could be smelled, even outdoors. I maintained a positive, fun, jokey exterior whilst on the inside I was battling with a horrible feeling that there was a good chance I'd shat myself. The moistness of the fart was severe. To add insult to injury I was wearing white boxers which would not cover up any blemishes or residue.

We returned to the house and I was desperate to pee, as I stood at the toilet on the verge of relieving another stomach cramp, I had flashbacks to the near miss experienced at the bus stop. Sensibly I sat down just in time. To use a snooker analogy: I played a magnificent safety shot with the white narrowly clearing the brown.  

A promising first day and a good start to the faecal year