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Tuesday, September 11, 2007

Crappers' Quarterly

Someone out there with even more time on his/her hands than I have (a chronic constipation sufferer, I'm guessing, with bathroom-friendly wifi access) maintains a site called Crapper's Quarterly.

This features rest station reviews such as the following pair:

The Big Race

I was at the Nascar race at Texas Motor Speedway...unfortunately we had to wake up early in the morning to get there and I had no time to "release" before the long day. So we got there and I suddenly felt a rumble. Oh no! I have easily another 5 hours before I will be home...please don't turn into goo! Well sure enough an hour later I was dying. I knew I had to release this demon...but where? this is a nascar event everyone is drinking so everyone is peeing. The lines even for the mens room were OUT THE DOOR. after 30 minutes of searching I saw it...a handicapped bathroom that fully locked shut with a sliding bar!!!!!!! It had a light shining on it like an angel! I ran towards it.. it was perfect it was clean..had toilet seat covers and plenty of paper. it was a mircale and a disaster was successfully diverted!!!

Attention WalMart Shoppers
by Ogie from Plano

I became rather ill after eating goat cheese salad with a great big banana flavored metamucil milkshake, with added fiber. As if that were not bad enough, my sister had laced my milkshake with Ex-Lax (getting me back for the ex-lax brownies I served her boyfriend).

Well, I was in toys at Walmart when I felt anal slippage. I ran as fast as I could and would have made it in time, but a friendly Walmart shopper was in the only non out-of-order stall. So much for my desired privacy when taking a crapper. I used the sink, and the customers that came after me will find that the cleanliness of my neighborhood Walmart has been seriously compromised!

{Quotations ends}

There's also a section for photos, such as this one of an anti-sewage outflow campaigner called Mr Floatie who was prevented from addressing a local council meeting by some killjoy or other.

And this one, which doesn't seem all that turd-related to me, but has to go somewhere I suppose.

'All cisterns go'. That's what I'd say at an editorial meeting if I was in a particularly can-do mood. Flush your own scatological suggestions straight to the comments box, please.

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