confessions and revelations

Originally Posted by anonymous

I was posting about Dov.

We are saving a seat for you, even all the coffee you can drink, but dammit no smoking anymore. (Smoke breaks)

Evan a couple of babes who may take advantage of a naive newbie like you.

[anonymous]

Okay, you asked for it: the poo story in all its glory... and astonishingly (not to mention embarassingly) there was no alcohol (or other mind altering substance) involved.

I was backpacking in Vietnam in 1995. At one point I was on a mini bus tour of the DMZ, and at lunchtime we stopped at a new roadside cafe. I was told the toilets were out the back, and headed out there along with a German guy who had been sick all morning. The two "toilets" turned out to be two concrete slabs, each with concrete walls about a yard high, on three sides only (no door). Each slab had a single teensy hole in it, about the diameter of a golfball. We both checked with the staff - they got cranky and kept pointing at the (almost) cubicles. I felt sorry for the poor German guy; the way he was clutching at his belly, I knew what he was there for. At least I only needed a piss. I should add that this was the only time I had seen an alleged toilet of this sort - the others had all been a variety of western or squat toilet.

Okay, so a few days later I'm in another town, another cafe. This time I needed to take a humungous dump. I asked the lady who ran the cafe where the toilet was, and she said it was down the back, in the yard. I walked through the house, which was long, with doors open to several tiny homes, and with several courtyards along the way (but none with an outhouse of any sort). Finally, it ended in a fenced yard, where there were two doors. Two of the waitresses from the cafe were there washing dishes in a bowl on the ground.

(I know this sounds like some sort of Jungian dream, but unfortunately it was all too real. I still have witnesses to the awfulness!)

I tried the first door, which wouldn't open for me, and I told the girls I was after the toilet. They both pointed at the door on the right. I opened the door and - yep - another concrete slab with a tiny hole. I turned around and said "no no no, toilet, TOILET!" but they just frowned and jabbed their fingers at the same door. I didn't want to seem condescending by harping on about their toilet being sub-standard, so I bit the bullet and ensconced myself in there. I then noticed there was a roll of toilet paper on the dividing wall, so this seemed to confirm things.

I just KNEW there was no way my poo was going to fit into that hole - not even if I managed to hit it straight on. My poo is just way too muscular looking. So rather than block up the only drainage hole, I made a heap beside the hole. It was en ENORMOUS heap. Roughly the size of half a basketball.

There was no water supply in there that I could see (who would think of looking at the ceiling? which was dark, by the way), not a tap or a bucket - nothing. The other one in the DMZ was the same. To make it a bit more acceptable (to me at least) I covered it modestly with a few sheets of toilet paper. A white puffy covered poo pile.

I emerged, the girls smiled serenely as they scrubbed, I washed my hands at the tap in the far corner of the yard (no bucket or shovel in sight), and went back tot he front of the cafe. As I came in, an Irish guy at my table headed out back. I mumbled an apology about the smell as he went, but his girlfriend assured me that he was about to make a big smell himself. When he got back, I apologised again about my pile and the smell, but he said he hadn't seen a pile. (I thought: wow! they must whip straight in there and shovel it out somehow!) So then I asked him if he had made a pile beside the hole too and he said "what?" I asked again, and he just looked slightly bewildered and said no, most of it went straight down the hole and what remained, he flushed down.

"Flushed?" I said.
"Yeah, you know, flushed. I flushed it down the toilet."
"FLUSHED?! TOILET?! Which door did you use?"
"The left one."

I had only had a few seconds of reeling from this revelation when one of the waitresses from the yard came scampering past our table, her hand clamped over her mouth and bright pink in the face. She raced over to the cafe owner, who was sitting at a table at the front with another few local ladies, and whispered to them. They all turned, as one, and stared straight at me, then all started screaming with laughter.

See? Simple mistake, anyone could have done it.

P.S. Reveal my true identity? You've got to be joking!

[Crimson Ghost]

OH SHIT!!!!

Sorry. I saw a target of opportunity.

As you were squating there, did a little voice in your head go "Pilot to bombadier"?
At least the payload was on time and on target.