Thanks Hey_Yall for letting me use your first post in this thread to edit in some info for new readers joining us from an Oregonian ad. While a majority of the topics here are fishing related, sometimes we like to have a little fun with some adult type of humor. If "potty humor" doesn't agree with you don't read any further. But many of these stories are really funny, and all benign stuff actually. If you want to read the best one first scroll down toward the bottom of page 1 and check out member Saltine's long hilariously funny story (a must read!). Thanks - RT

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........Actually use the bathrooms located at fishing places like Blue Creek and at the Barrier Dam, etc.? Personally, I just take my dumps out in the woods. RT asked for it, so here goes.

2 words: POISON IVY

Also, who's been guilty of writing in the stalls at these places? I know I am......
For a Good Time Call ***** -- (206)XXX-XXXX

As RT for the remaining digits or just visit the sh*tter on the left side by the blue creek boat launch. :p

[ 04-19-2001: Message edited by: RT ]

I prefere the woods my self,never know what you'll run across.Good luck,
STRIKE ZONE
No need to sit on the seat,Blue creek crabs jump six feet.

The two worse $hitters I have ever encountered:

1) Alaska, The crapper up on the Moose River campround right where the mouth of the river enters the Kenai. Word of warning, don't ever go into an outhouse if you start to smell it 40 feet before you open the door

2) Ft. Canby State Park, Wa, N. Jetty, at the very last parking lot before you drove into the ocean. How many years of excrement can build up on the outside of the base under the toilet seat, YUCK! Last year I was visiting the jetty and noticed that that about 200 yards of beach, parking lot, and that stinky $hitter had been eroded out to sea. I was talking to a complete stranger and we both agreed that it was good thing that the ocean gods took that crapper away!

Keep hooks sharp!

Bobber Down

Ok worst ****ter ever. Swan Island, Oregon, Northwest Marine Ironworks. #3 stall on the big dry dock. Toilet was loose (rocked when you sat on it), water on the floor all the time, holes in the wall, cold breeze in the winter.

On the inside of the door it said:::

"It does no good to stand on the seat
Shipyard crabs can jump six feet!"

OK, sensative types better check out before reading further - or read this after your dinner. ... The worst outhouse experiences:

It'll be tough to beat this one. I was with my new bride over on Montana's famous Flathead Lake, on the SW corner over beyond Poulson. We stopped at a wayside because I had 'packed the staging area' as much as it could withstand. I went into the outhouse, sat on the wiped off seat, and fired a ROCKET in there that splased the cess pool sludge all the way up onto my rump! AAAAAAGGGGGGGHHHHHHH!!!!!!!! I screamed at amy wife to bring me a couple beers QUICK. She must have started to wonder if she married the right guy, eh? I* shook those bottles up hard and opened them to 'firehose' myself off until I could get some stronger stuff down the road to finish the cleanup. I still have a bit of outhouse phobia to this day from that harrowing ordeal. ... Geez, don't tell anyone about that. K?

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Know Sh*tters or NO [Bleeeeep!]!

I'm a framer so unfortunatly I get the beauty of droppin' loads in honey buckets daily at the job site. To put it mildly it sucks. I must say its a toss up between a RT like splatter or the one you can experience after they have cleaned it a day or two ago. What happens is your "log" as will call it, free falls gaining velosity until it breaks the surface of floating crap and blue santi-stuff. BlueSantiPoo is now all over your @ss. At this point I normally light up a ciggy and take my time cleaning off my @ss. LOL. I have somewhat defeated the poo gods though..... I will use 1/4 of the roll of TP as a buffer or shock absorber if you will. You gently toss BIG wads on the desired landing zone. Works great......try it at a potty near you!
Your craper tip of the week

My baden will for ever be Mineral Lake camp grounds. If ya ever been there ya know, they are to the rim. BAD NEWS!!! J.C.B

Some guys in my frat at school actually came up with a latin-based term for the syndrome of your butt getting splashed when using one of these ... can't for the life of me remember it right now, but I'll put it up if it somehow comes to mind.

Hands down worst honey bucket ... Old Kasilof Landing in AK in mid June with the typical Kenai closures we see in that timeframe .... way too many people using it, then it seems to ferment and ooze over

this has got too be the absolute weirdest topic in the world but hell I'm game. I have two that suck equally. 1st is the plastic baggies full of cocca in the cement crapper at the boat launch on Hat Slough. 2nd is the nasty trash filled, crap sprayed walls of the crapper at the Lewis St launch in Monroe. WHATS UP WITH THAT?????? I will crap my waders before I will ever use a crapper at a WDFW access area. In defense of WDFW-for Snohomish, King, Skagit, and Whatcom counties there is only one maintenance guy to care for all those facilities

Not sure what icon goes with this topic

I will give a second vote for the Fort Canby Sh***er -

always the woods..one time my buddy made me drive up and down the logging roads until he spotted the perfect " takin care of business log" damn near ended up in his waders.

5 gallon buckets rule over Honey Buckets!!! Ever since I was eating lunch one day at a construction site.....guy goes in to the use the plastic throne, and an excavator accidently (while lifting one of those 8-ft diameter detention pipes) smacks the $^^^house! Didn't fall over, but rocked hard back and forth enough for the guy to come bustin out, pants down around his knees, and needless to say drippin wet and a little-bit irate.
I almost choked to death on my banana (I wasn't in your boat Bob!) and I've never gone into one of those things since!!

There's a reason they have a "poop deck" on sea-going vessels guys!! I for one am a poop deck veteran! The woods? NO WAY!! I wouldn't leave the water on a hot bite for nuthin' (Even #2).

I haven't had any accidents on the "poop deck" but I think RT has Maybe if we're lucky He'll tell us the open ocean, crapper story, COME ON RT-----TELL US THE STORY!!!!!!!!!!!!

Aaron

There's a reason they have a "poop deck" on sea-going vessels guys!! I for one am a poop deck veteran! The woods? NO WAY!! I wouldn't leave the water on a hot bite for nuthin' (Even #2).

I haven't had any accidents on the "poop deck" but I think RT has Maybe if we're lucky He'll tell us the open ocean, crapper story, COME ON RT-----TELL US THE STORY!!!!!!!!!!!!

Aaron

Toughen up guys. Haven't you seen Johnny Knoxville do the poo-cocktail?

Was at Washougal MX when it became time to take a gillnetter. Down the hill i went to find a row of 10 honey buckets. I waited for a shot at one in the middle of the pack, got in and went about leaving my offering. All things go when all of a sudden I hear some youngsters giggling behind the ****ters. I jump up and escape without doing the paperwork only to see the house nextdoor falling on its door. I hear a girl screem coming from the wreakage. A few onlookers got the house back up and out came someones hot date, dreanched in the blue poo. So a posse is formed to find the responsible party, there they are and he's the one! %That guy was never so glad to see the police as he was minutes from a public lynching. Went back to finish the paperwork, whoa, that was close!
If ya got this far my vote for the worst crapper is at the ceililo reservation. Couldn't even make it in the door! This was pre casinos so things might have changed.

[ 04-04-2001: Message edited by: phunybonz ]

Hey BK, your post kinda gives the BB term 'log out' a whole new meaning. ...

Ya JH, a good silver bite cost me some em'barass'ment on the poop deck of my old Whitewater Marine open V-sled. I followed the big charter boats out of Depoe Bay during the summer silver season several years ago. There had been good fishing out there and lots of other small boats followed the charters to find the schools of fish. Well it wasn't red hot but a very good overall bite on a fairly tight area on a school of these cohos. It was just me and one fishing partner - I'll call him Ted to protect the guilty. Now I hate to leave a good bite going on so I held back nature's call in staging area #2 longer than I should have. Well, I couldn't hang in there among all those boats any longer, so we picked up and I ran out to what I thought to be far enough away to do business and still be near the school for some peripheral fish. (If you've read the thread thus far I guess this won't bother you). My honey bucket consisted of a 2 gallon rubber pale placed under one of those camper crapers with the thin aluminum legs. Well, when I let it pack in real tight from holding it off for so long then it can become a little harder to get things moving, ya know. And Ted is not a patient guy when the bite is over yonder. He had our 2 lines out but we weren't getting any bites, and I'm struggling on the job on the 'poop deck'. He chides me to hurry the f... up and I'm tryin hard as I can against the log jam within. So Ted just takes a wide turn back towards the bite ... and the crowds of boats. As luck would have it 2 big charters made turns also and were coming right at us. Ted is laughing now and I'm pushing like I'm in late labor. Oh geez, here it comes; right at the golden moment as we troll thru the middle of the 2 charters. I just leaned forward and covered up as best possible. And I could have gotten by alright, albeit a bit em'barass'ed. But luck is often harder on me at times, and thus we had to hit a capped roller wave as we passed between the boats and in combo with my weight the potty chair legs just crumbled with me landing on the crunched honey bucket, and coming uncovered all in a few seconds in front of at least over 25 laughing fishermen on the charters . Ted was laughing so hard he couldn't steer the boat straight. I'll leave the rest up to your imagination.

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Lesson: Don't pack your bags just because the bite's on!

[ 04-05-2001: Message edited by: RT ]

This is some good **** I have the nicest outhouse you've ever laid eyes on or butt cheeks on up at the Sauk River Steelhead Ranch. It has a tile floor, redwood trim, a real toilet seat, a mirror, a steelhead cut into the shape of a half moon in the door, a wash basin, decorative art and an antique sign reading "rooms for rent...steam bath and heat, and a painted mural on the side of it with a king, a steelhead, and a dolly varden.

Parker will attest to the fact of it being the nicest outhouse ever!!! No ****

Im Crowning!!!!

I here ya stilly_bum. Those dudes are the king of disgust. I guess thats what makes me watch em. Then of course we should pay credit to Mr. Hanky the Xmas poo on South Park, eh

Two entries:

Worst ever. There's this ARCO station not far from Sprotco, in Fife. I don't remember why, but I stopped there once to answer the call. They had two honey buckets out back. One had an "out of service" sign on it, so I opened the door to the other. The brown matter was piled up even with the toilet seat. I about gagged. I can't immagine what was up with the last person to troll that hole. It made me wonder how bad the "out of service" one was. It was enough to blow a buzzard off a gut wagon.

Worst outhous experience. This actually happened only a couple of weeks ago. I was driving down to the Kalama in the early (dark) a.m. from Tacoma. Everything was fine until I got just about to Kelso and things down south stared to get a little loose. Things began to rumble. By the time I got to Longview, there were cramps coming in waves. I knew the first log scaling yard was a ways from the Longview exit, so I decided to try to make it to the outhouse at the beginner's hole on the K. River Road.

By the time I got to the River Road, I was standing up on the floorboard, twisting with the abdominal cramps. I made it to the beginner's hole and rolled up next to the station. It was pitch black dark. I shut off the car and hotfooted it toward the outhouse. I forgot about those big rocks they have planted around that thing and I slammed my left foot and my right knee into the same big rock. I was wearing sandals and I felt like I tore off my middle toe. I couldn't even straighten out my right leg. It's a miracle that I maintained my load under tension. I made it to the seat, but between my left foot screaming, my right knee feeling like it was being pulled apart, and the fire down below, that was the most nightmarish 20 minutes I ever spent in an outhouse.

I left and got to where I was fishing and put on my waders in the dark. At the end of the day, as I was taking off my waders, my left foot felt damp and I thought I might have developed a hole in my waders. When I got them off, I saw that my left sock was completely soaked in blood. Turns out, I tore this big patch of skin off the whole tip of my left middle toe. I still have a scab on my right knee.

As everybody says, you have to put your time in on the river to learn its secrets. I think I've figured out where the boulders are at the beginner's hole!

Here's the icon for this thread!


[ 04-05-2001: Message edited by: Bob ]

I'd have to say the two $hitters at Blue Creek. I'm 0/2 and hurled outside the door both times. That place should be closed down before someone really gets hurt

Those that fish on the Sauk River Steelhead Ranch are also fortunate enough to have access to the World Finest Outhouse.

I tell ya guy's some of those posts just about had me outta the chair and in stitches. Really makes me think of the times before I figured out that milk gives me the sh*ts. More than once I have given the guys a white knuckled death ride in the truck getting to a ramp after a breakfast. The surge brakes on the big sled trailer sure are nice when your in a rush to get the rig stopped and hual a$$ to the outhouse.

The crapper @ Modrow bridge boat launch on the Kalama,its pretty bad when the state can't even manage A $hitter ,and whats up with putting the toilet paper on a flat bar ,how are you suppose too get enough too finish the job?

[ 04-05-2001: Message edited by: Chrome Trophy ]

all I can say to this is. HAHAHAHAHAHAH! ! !

Ya Know, with all the peopleon this site from the Seattle area, I was very surprized to see that no one had metioned the Sani-can that is stationed just below Pike's Place. If you've ever been by it you'll know the one I'm talking about. It's constantly overflowing and there's this river of urine and feces that just sort of meanders down the sidewalk. On hot days the smell is absolutely stiffling. God, the fishing must really suck if the very best thing we have to talk about is the worst $hitters we've ever seen! Oh well, pissing and moaning about the indians netting the Chehalis was starting to get old.

How would you like to be the one that has to pump those out!!!!! Wonder what you would smell like at the end of the day. HaHaHaHaHa!

WHOA, THEY ACTUALLY PUMP THOSE OUT???

I figured as long as the $hit sits there, it just evaporates, or turns into some kind of rubber cement.

I knew this board had a lot of $hit-talkers, but this is ridiculous

I could go on forever about bad outhouses, but I remember one good outhouse. My family has always had a cabin in the mountains of Idaho. It was used for hunting, snowmobiling, wood cutting, etc... The seat in the out house was attached with a small bent nail, and could be removed. There was also a small bent nail on the wall above the wood stove where the seat hung untill needed. There was nothing better than wading through 3' of snow in 9 degree wether only to sit on the damn near hot toilet seat.

O.K., I've got a bad one...
How about an outhouse on the beach in Tulum, Mexico... no seat, it's 97 degrees out every day, and the five gringos you're with all have Montezuma's revenge... hence it's pretty ripe.

Then there's the one where a bunch of us were staying at a cabin in the backwoods of Maine, warmest it got was -14 F, first one out to the outhouse was my friend Pete, whose d!ck froze to the seat from the extra little drop of liquid... we quickly learned the R-value of Cottonelle.

-N.

This is one of the funniest (and vulgar) stories I've heard. Copied/pasted from an email thread. If you don't like potty humor, I'd skip it. Its called "Macaroni and Beef" for those that haven't heard it.

This is a good little story from a friend (Infantry type) - -> those who have spent time at Ft Benning will recognize the locatin as Ryan's Steak House in Columbus, GA. Please enjoy Now, I know that there is a lot of embellishment that occurs when people share an experience and I am aware that a small number of things are perhaps sheer fabrication, but I have a story to tell that is the absolute truth. Funniest damn thing that has ever happened to me. A couple of weeks ago we decided to cruise out to Ryan's Steak House for dinner. It was a Wednesday night which means that macaroni and beef was on the hot bar, indeed the only night of the week that it is served. Wednesday night is also kid's night at Ryan's, complete with Dizzy the Clown wandering from table to table entertaining the little *******s. It may seem that the events about to be told have little connection to those two circumstances, but all will be clear in a moment. We went through the line and placed our orders for the all-you-can-eat hot bar then sat down as far away from the front of the restaurant as possible in order to keep the density of kids down a bit. Then I started my move to the hot bar.
Plate after plate of macaroni and beef were consumed that evening, I tell you-in all, four heaping plates of the pseudo-Italian ambrosia were shoved into my belly. I was sated. Perhaps a bit too much, however. I had not really been feeling well all day, what with a bit of gas and such. By the time I had eaten four overwhelmed plates of food, I was in real trouble. There was so much pressure on my diaphragm that I was having trouble breathing. At the same time, the downward pressure was building.
At first, I thought it was only gas which could have been passed in batches right at the table without to much concern. Unfortunately, that was not to be. After a minute or so it was clear that I was dealing with explosive diarrhea. It's amazing how grease can make its way through your intestines far faster than the food which spawned the grease to begin with, but I digress... I got up from the table and made my way to the bathroom. Upon entering, I saw two sinks immediately inside the door, two
urinals just to the right of the sinks, and two toilet stalls against the back wall. One of them was a handicapped bathroom. Now, normally I would have gone to the handicapped stall since I like to stretch out a bit when I take a good ****, but in this case, the door lock was broken and the only thing I hate worse than my wife telling me to stop cutting my toenails with a pair of diagonal wirecutters is having someone walk in on me while I am taking a ****. I went to the normal stall. In retrospect, I probably should have gone to the large, handicapped stall even though the door would not lock because that bit of time lost in making the stall switch proved to be a bit too long under the circumstances. By the time I had walked into the regular stall, the pressure on my ass was reaching Biblical proportions. I began "The Move." For those women who may be reading this, let me take a moment to explain "The Move." Men know exactly what their bowels are up to at any given second. And when the time comes to empty the cache, a sequence of physiological events occur that can not be stopped under any circumstances. There is a move men make that involves simultaneously approaching the toilet, beginning with the body turn to position ones ass toward said toilet, hooking ones fingers into ones waistline, and pulling down the pants while beginning the squat at the same time. It is a very fluid motion that, when performed properly, results in the flawless expulsion of **** at the exact same second that ones ass is properly placed on the toilet seat. Done properly, it even assures that the choad is properly inserted into the front rim of the toilet in the event that the piss stream lets loose at the same time; it is truly a picture of coordination rivaling that of a skilled ballet dancer. I was about half-way into "The Move" when I looked down at the floor and saw a pile of vomit that had been previously expelled by one of those little *******s attending kids night; it was mounded up in the corner so I did not notice it when I had first walked into the stall. Normally, I would not have been bothered by such a thing, but I had eaten so much and the pressure upward was so intense, that I hit a rarely experienced gag reflex. And once that reflex started, combined with the intense pressure upward caused by the bloated stomach, four plates of macaroni and beef started coming up for a rematch. What happened next was so quick that the exact sequence of events are a bit fuzzy, but I will try to reconstruct them as best I can. In that moment of impending projectile vomiting, my attention was diverted from the goings-on at the other end. To put a freeze frame on the situation, I was half crouched down to the toilet, pants pulled down to my knees, with a load of vomit coming up my esophagus. Now, most of you know that vomiting takes precedence over **** no matter what is about to come slamming out of your ass. It is apparently an evolutionary thing since ****ting will not kill you, but vomiting takes a presence of mind to accomplish so that you do not aspirate any food into the bronchial tubes and perhaps choke to death. My attention was thus diverted. At that very split second, my ass exploded in what can only be described as a wake...you know, as in a newspaper headline along the lines of "30,000 Killed In Wake of Typhoon Fifi" or something similar. In what seemed to be most suitably measured in cubic feet, an enormous plug of **** the consistency of thick mud with embedded pockets of greasy liquid came flying out of my ass. But remember, I was only half-way down on the toilet at that moment. The **** wave was of such force and of just such an angle in relation to the back curve of the toilet seat that it ricocheted off the back of the seat and slammed into the wall at an angle of incidence equal to the angle at which it initially hit the toilet seat. Then I sat down. Recall that when that event occurred, I was already half-way to sitting anyway and had actually reached the point of no return. I have always considered myself as relatively stable gravitationally, but when you get beyond a certain point, you're going down no matter how limber you may be. Needless to say, the **** wave, though of considerable force, was not so sufficient so as to completely glance off the toilet seat and deposit itself on the walls, unlike what you would see when hitting a puddle with a high-pressure water hose; even though you throw water at the puddle, the puddle gets moved and no water is left to re-form a puddle. There was a significant amount of **** remaining on about one-third of the seat rim which I had now just collapsed upon. Now, back to the vomit... While all the ****ting was going on, the vomit was still on its way up. By the time I had actually collapsed on the toilet, my mouth had filled up with a goodly portion of the macaroni and beef I had just consumed. OK, so what does the human body instinctively do when vomiting? One bends over. So I bent over. I was still sitting on the toilet, though. Therefore, bending over resulted in me placing my head above my now slightly-opened legs, positioned in between my knees and waist. Also directly above my pants which were now pulled down to a point just midway between my knees and my ankles. Oh, did I mention that I was wearing not just pants, but sweat pants with elastic on the ankles. In one mighty push, some three pounds of macaroni and beef, two or three Cokes, and a couple of Big, Fat Yeast Rolls were deposited in my pants...on the inside...with no ready exit at the bottom down by my feet. In the next several seconds, there were a handful of farts, a couple of turds, and the event ended, yet I was now sitting there with my pants full of vomit, my back covered in **** that had bounced of the toilet, spattered on three ceramic-tiled walls to a height of about five feet, and still had enough force to come back at me, covering the back of my shirt with droplets of liquid ****. All while thick **** was spread all over my ass in a ring curiously in the shape of a toilet seat. And there was no ****ing toilet paper. What could I do but laugh. I must have sounded like a complete maniac to the guy who then wandered into the bathroom. He actually asked if I was OK since I was laughing so hard I must have sounded like I was crying hysterically. I calmed down just enough to ask him if he would get the manager. And told him to have the manager bring some toilet paper. When the manager walked in, he brought the toilet paper with him, but in no way was prepared for what happened next. I simply told him that there was no way I was going to explain what was happening in the stall, but that I needed several wet towels and I needed him to go ask my wife to> come help me. I told him where we were sitting and he left. At that point, I think he was probably assuming that I had pissed just a bit in my pants or something similarly benign. About two minutes later, my wife came into the bathroom not knowing what was wrong and with a certain amount of worry in her voice. I explained to her (still laughing and having trouble getting out words) that I had a slight accident and needed her help. Knowing that I had experienced some close calls in the past, she probably assumed that I had laid down a small turd or something and just needed to bring the car around so we could bolt immediately. Until I asked her, I'm sure she had no idea that she was about to go across the street and purchase me new underwear, new socks, new pants, a new shirt, and (by that time due to considerable leakage around the elastic ankles thingies) new sneakers. And she then started to laugh herself since I was still laughing. She began to ask for an explanation as to what had happened when I promised her that I would tell her later, but that I just needed to handle damage control for the time being. She left. The manager then came back in with a half-dozen wet towels and a few dry ones. I asked him to also bring a mop and bucket upon which he assured me that they would clean up anything that needed to be cleaned. Without giving him specific details, I explained that what was going on in that stall that night was far in excess of what I would expect anyone to deal with what with most of the folks working at Ryan's making minimum wage of just slightly above. At that moment, I think it dawned on him exactly the gravity of the situation. Then that manager went so far above the call
> > > of
> > > duty that I will be eternally grateful for his actions. He hooked> up a
> > > hose. Fortunately, commercial bathrooms are constructed with tile walls and tile floors and have a drain in the middle of the room in order to make clean up easy. Fortunately, I was in a commercial bathroom. He hooked up the hose to the spigot located under the sink as I began cleaning myself up with the wet towels. Just as I was finishing, my wife got back with the new clothes and passed them into the stall, whereupon I stuffed the previously worn clothing into the plastic bag that came from the store, handing the bag to my wife. I finished cleaning myself off and carefully put on my new clothes, still stuck in the stall since I figured that it would be in bad taste to go out of the stall to get redressed in the event I happened to be standing there naked and some little ******* kid walked in. At that point, I had only made a mess; I had not yet committed a felony and intended to keep it that way. When I finished getting dressed, I picked up the hose and cleaned up the entire stall, washing down the remains toward the drain in the center of the room. I put down the hose and walked out of the bathroom. I had intended to go to the manager and thank him for all he had done, but when I walked out, three of the management staff were there to greet me with a standing ovation. I started laughing so hard that I thought I was going to throw up again, but managed to scurry out to the car where my wife was now waiting to pick me up by the front door. The upshot of all this is that I strongly recommend eating dinner at Ryan's Steak House. They have, by far, the nicest management staff of any restaurant in which I have eaten.

That has to be the funniest and best-written stories I have ever heard!

Brings back memories of eating at Ryan's Steak House and Quincy Steak Houses along the South. Personally, I always dodged the beefy mac nights for that same reason just to keep from soaking my ass in a cold bathtub afterwards.

Your story is what this critic calls, "A MUST READ".

Tears in my eye's "My god thats funny" if there's a wall of all time greats , I nominate that for a high mark

Wasn't sure if I should post that story, almost didn't. Didn't want to get banned, then I remembered RT's over here and thought, what the hell. I almost pee'd myself the first time I read it. Enjoy!

Saltine,

formerly 'Steve J'

Dude saltine
That by far take the cake
I could not stop laughing for like five minutes

ROTFLMMFAO!!!!

Reminds me of a book I read titled 50 Yards to the Outhouse by Willie Makeit

And we have a winner....ALL HAIL THE KING!!!!!!

Tight lines

Kevin

SRBC

Hey Sauk, I read that book, it was edited by Betty wont, who edited the book "Brown spots in the Outhouse" by the great Chinese writer Who Flung Doo.

Saltine, ya make me hungry. Nice story. Gotta try that place sometime...

Now, my food story.

Just got off the Kasilof and had one of them urges that wouldn't go away so made a mad dash to the worst sani-can in the world. Flew open the door and found someone had beaten me there, but he was holding his fishing rod inside the hole trying to snag something. I said "whats with this fishing in the crapper." He says " I was just finishing up and doing the paperwork and my coat fell off the coathook and fell down in the hole." I said "must be a good coat.huh?" He says "Naw, I'm pretty hungry after fishing with Bob all morning and my peanutbutter sandwich is in the pocket." fp

Holy Crap....that was funny.....That poor fellow in the other stall....hope he didn't get hit by"friendly fire" .....Os

to much beer

FYJ, was asking about this funny thread. I brought it back up for new readers coming in that haven't had a chance to read some mighty entertaining stories. It's now been proven by the medical community that laughing is good for people's health. And it has been proven by Saltine that eating 4 plates of mac n beef just AIN'T a good idea .

RT

Short version, guys camping at green river campground, trib to the sandy, they ate at the Sizzler in Gresham, the campground was quarentined for 2 weeks, unfortunatley I was in the tent, OUCH!!!! Literally you couldn't take 2 steps without walking in puke or [Bleeeeep!]. Site to behold. I wish that i could give a further description but it would take too long.

we headed to westport early one morning, stopped at the rest area near the orv park outside of olympia, we all did our bussines and got back in the truck, we looked at each other and couldnt figure out what stunk, we got out and noticed that some idiot had dumped the holding tank of there rv rite where i parked and we tracked it back in the truck, what a shi$$y trip that turned into.

Oh man what a ****ty topic. I think I signed up just so I could say that. No just joshing but I wanted to say this has been a super funny topic to read. Ive been lurking this one over ha ha. Old Salt's story is better than any of the jokes in the joke topics! You gota have some good ones for the joke topics Salt.

Funny stories! The fishing outhouse that comes to mind for me is the floating one they put out in Tillamook Bay during the big fall chinook season. No real funny story about it but it ranks as one of the worst as you can smell it within about 4 fathoms away. Closer than I want to get to it. I guess it is funny when a bigger boat runs a large wake nearby when some poor guy is inside dealing with business and has to fight to keep from falling off the seat in there.

Check this site out. Talk about some horror stories from third world countries.
Bathroom Diaries
My bro-in-law was in the middle east(Jordan I think). He said all they have over there is a hole in the floor and a sink. No toilet paper. So I asked him what in the hell did you wipe your a$$ with? He said the locals use their hand then wash it off in the sink.
He said TP was a hot commodity when they were running around town and not training.
Speaking of I used to work at a place that had a lot of Asian immigrants. You'd go in the stall and sure enough there are shoe prints on the seat of the toilet. They were squattin on the toilet like they did over the hole in the floor back in the mother land.

Bringing this back toward the top of BB page 1 for the enjoyment of new readers that think good outhouse humor is funny.

6 months later bringing back up again, to go along with Rich G.'s thread about not pooping in riverside parking lots.

Saltines story made me cry. That was very funny.

Lots of good stories. RT, thanks for bringing this one to the top again! The people in my office asked me if anything was wrong, because I had tears in my eyes.

This will rank no where near the quality of Saltines story, but here is the story of my coldest crap ever.

I was elk hunting outside of Ellensburg during the late muzzleloader season during the first week of December about 6 years ago. Before I had left the truck I had heard that the temperature was 4 degrees down in E-burg. I was at about 4500 feet, so it was even colder up there. To make things a little colder, there was a slight breeze, of say 30 to 40 mph. Beautiful weather to hunt in!

About an hour into my hunt, I had that burnin' feelin' creep up from behind me. I knew that there was an old campsite nearby, complete with an outhouse. When I got to the camp, I found that the wind had blown away the tarps surrounding the kamode, and all that was left was the plywood sheet with two holes over the trench. I got out the TP, aka mountain money, and pulled down the layers of pants (jeans, goose down pants, and rainpants). I did a check of the landing area as I was headed down, only to see that there was a layer of ice and snow about an inch thick covering the two holer. I was committed, so I just sat down.

The basic cold, plus the windchill, plus the ice seat caused some immediate shrinkage and I found it hard to pee, butt it all came out, in the end.

My buddy showed up later on that day, and he didn't believe my story, until I showed him the seat. There, melted into the bench, was a snow angel impression of my butt.

Andy