The Mind of Spaz

There are times when you win. There are times when you gamble and win. I have had those times (read that link if you haven’t, it’s my all time most popular post for some reason).

But there comes a time in every man’s life where the gambling does NOT pay off. If any of you are up on statistics, then the more you gamble, the more likely you are to lose as time goes on.

Boy, did I EVER lose.

You see, I was at my computer doing something or other and I felt a fart coming on. Like any man (or woman when she’s alone), I lifted a cheek to vent pressure.

What followed the vent was not just gas.

Now that I’m in my 30′s, I guess I’m getting old. This has NEVER happened before. If it was gas, it was gas. That’s all. My body told me if I could vent or if I needed a toilet. This time, my body lied to me, or maybe it was confused by its age addled state.

When my sphincter opened, there was poop. Now, I guess I’m not that old because within the first 0.000001 second of the sphinchter opening, I knew what was happening and I slammed that damned thing shut faster than a star wars automatic door. But it was too late, the damage was done.

And so, one shower and one load of laundry later, I decided I need to do something about my little mishap.

I went out and I bought this awesome little thing to help.

Yea, it has nothing to do with anything, but it’s frigging hilarious, right???

dumb things I do to myself, poo, talking out of my ass incontinence, poo, poo flinging game, pooped myself, shart

Not too long ago, my parents downsized their house. It was about time too – that 3000 square foot monstrosity of a McMansion was too big for them, me and my sister, let alone them for the past 12 or so years. So now, instead of a house four times the size of mine, they have a house only 2 1/2 the size of mine.

‘Downsizing’.

Anyways, as part of their move my old man spent upwards of my yearly salary redoing the house.   Part of that was the kitchen, and guess what?  I got the cabinets. Not that I’m complaining. These cabinets are only 5 years older than I am, instead of the ones I have which are 35 years older than I am. In other words, a significant improvement.

So, with hope in my heart, a gleam in my eye, myself and my hired contractor set off to redo the kitchen using the old/new cabinets.

As an aside, good quality floors are a flipping FORTUNE nowadays. What the hells with that? I asked the guy if for that price it would blow me.  He said he’d blow me. I said ew no thanks. He said it’ll still be $711.21 for the floor.  Bastard.

The contractor I have is good.  Really good. He knows what he’s doing I tell you. He’s the retired fire chief, works for my parents, has a lot of years of experience, and is damned spry for a 65 year old. There’s only one problem.

He farts.

Now, ordinarily that would be no issue whatsoever. I like farting myself. But you know, it’s ALL THE TIME. When he bends over. When he gets up. when he leans to one side or the other. When he uses a drill, or a saw, or a screwdriver, or sighs, or goes up the stairs, or goes down, or goes inside, or goes outside, he farts.

And they are long. And they stink. And they are wet.

It got so bad the other day that even when he wasn’t farting, he smelled like fart. I believe that’s because he sharted himself.

Regardless, I can suck it up. Because he’s a great contractor and he’s cheap. And lets face it, when he’s gone I can air out the house. Might take a week or two, but I’ll have a new kitchen AND a house that doesn’t smell like fart.

Win.

good things, poo fart, house, shart

I know I haven’t been around much lately.  And I’ve told that is a good thing. Let me explain.

To anyone who has been around this blog since the beginning (thank you, I can’t believe it, you are amazing), anyways, you’ve noticed my full attention hasn’t been paid to it lately. By lately I mean the last, say, 60 horrible posts.

I’ve gotten worse and worse.

Now, for some reason my father found my blog. Since I don’t put anything personal on it (like taking the poop yourself before a colonoscopy drink for no good reason) I haven’t minded.

I was having lunch with my old man last week. I’m his spawn, so we both dabble in mental retardation. Last weeks retardation was ordering hot and sour soup with a big bowl of extra hot sauce. We took turns adding more hot sauce, with the winner being the guy that didn’t make a hot spicy shart before getting home.

In between nose blows and tears of pure Jalapeno oil, he asked me if I was still going to write in that Spaz blog.

I told him no, I was doing other things, I didn’t have time.

He said “That’s good son, because your blog was getting lame. REALLY lame.”

I got called lame by a 60 year old accountant.

For that, I apologize everybody.

Also, I don’t want to abandon a PR3 website just cuz I’m lame. So I’m going to be taking this thing into a new direction. Whatever that direction might be. When I figure it out.

Cya’ll on the flipside of trying not to be so lame.

shameless promotion father, lame, shart

I thought I was the best.  Mind you, I’m still good, I’m just not the best.

You see, this weekend, someone out poo’d me.

That’s right.  Someone outdid old Captain Colon himself.

It was Saturday.  My friend Big Eddie (name changed to protect the guilty) was over helping me with my basement renovations.

When I say big Eddie, I mean BIG.   The man says he’s 6’4″. Yea right, maybe because he slouches.  He’s an easy 350 lbs.  This guy is a shaved bear.

We were working away with some insulation. He stood up, sniffed, and asked what the hell that smell was.

I told him it was the dog.  She farts when she gets nervous or excited.

Eddie took that as competition to his overactive anal gland. He hoisted a meaty hoof in the air, his face wrinkled in concentration, trying to push one out.

Push one out he did.

You see, I’d fed him some lunch.  We were at home depot buying several thousand drywall screws.

Hey, don’t look at me like that. Everybody likes a good screw. Why not several thousand?

Anyways, he was hungry so I bought him some lunch from the Harvey’s located right inside the home depot.

No side salad and a chicken burger for this man. No, no way. Large pop, poutine (with extra gravy and cheese), and a huge sirloin bacon cheeseburger.

Back up an hour to when we got to my house.  As I was cutting insulation, I heard his large round belly give a resounding gurgle, followed by a second and third, longer gurgle.

“Eddie, are you ok?”

“Yea Spaz.  It’s just lately, fast food has really been affecting my digestion.  An hour or two later and I’m not doing so good, usually.”

Uh, is that so.  I have a moose in my house with an upset anal gland, with only one toilet.

Fast forward now to when Eddie decided to compete with my dog in an impromptu farting competition, and come hell or high water he was going to win.

Like my dog gives a shit and I want a monster of a man crapping his pants to “beat” her.

With a look of determination in his now red and strained face, and his leg in the air, beat my dog he did.

Pfffffffffffffftb! bbbtttbbbtthhh!  Bthhttbhhhthpphht SPLOOCH!

Yes, the last one was a splooch.  A sound that only happens when you let out a wet fart, possibly with a little shart mixed in.

“Dood, I think you might want to check your pants”.

“Spaz, I need your toilet. NOW!”

So I kept working away, but forgetting something important, something very important.  It was bugging me in the back of my head, and I couldn’t’ remember what it was, until I heard Eddies booming voice from upstairs telling me he’d just painted the back of my toilet.

Fuck.  I remember now.  I had a leaky flapper valve in the shitter and I hadn’t yet replaced it.  Instead, I’d turned the water off until I could do it later.

He only had one flush.

He needed at least five.

I ran upstairs, only to be confronted with the worst ass explosion I’d ever seen, all over the back of my toilet.  Two hour old poutine and burger, passed through the gut of a 350lb man, slopped all over the shitter.

Do you know how bad it was?

Twenty four full hours later, I had a visitor ask me why my house smelled like poo.

Great. Not only did I lose my title of poo king, but his ass gas is probably permanent.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go open all the windows and go buy a drum of fabreeze.

poo, rant farting competition, fast food, Harvey's, poo, shart, shit covered toilet, TMI

A certain somebody left this rather surprising comment on my blog the other day:

On another note, damn do you talk about shitting a lot.

Well yea. Poo is funny. Bodily functions in general is funny.  Anybody who is cool understands that.

You also understand that if you’re a mommy blogger.  We all know how much mommy bloggers suck, because it’s only funny if it’s coming out of their little ugly babies orifices.

ALL bodily functions are funny.

So to commemorate poo, and to commemorate my poo commentor, I give you some poo de motivational posters.

Enjoy.

poo, talking out of my ass big huge labs, bowel, de-motivational posters, fart, poo, shart, shit