The Power of Sports



I have coached baseball for a lot of years at this point and yet it still never fails to amaze me at what can happen.

I have seen countless foul balls hit parked cars and seated testicles.

I have seen face plants and ass cheeks studded with gravel from a poorly executed slide into third base.

I have seen an entire team giving each other a Gatorade shower during the second to last inning of a game and then rolling in the red clay sand creating the world’s biggest “sugar cookies”.

I have seen parents losing their minds over a single dropped ball and rejoicing when a child gets hit by a pitch to load the bases.

I didn’t think much could surprise me.

Yet, I was completely unprepared to have a six-year-old girl who wore a skirt instead of her uniform stepping up to the plate, taking a practice swing then promptly dropping the bat and bolting as fast as she could across the field towards the Portapotty yelling –

“Play without me, I gotta poop!!!”

Proving yet again, that when you think you have seen it all, a kid shits their pants.


Sometimes You Just Have To Go


poop outside

There’s pretty much one way to poop indoors. In a toilet.

No real room for creativity. Or at least functional creativity. Outdoors, though, the world is your canvas.

When you work construction, leaving the job site to poop is always a delicate balance of timing and distance. If the bathroom is too far away to get to on a break then you often end up clenched up trying to avoid launching the butt shuttle. Doing delicate work when you are baking some brownies is nearly impossible so you are often forced to find somewhere to hide and make a Minnesota hand warmer.

If you are exceptionally lucky, the home owner you are working for will have a bathroom they don’t mind strangers using. When construction workers descend on a bathroom after morning coffee and monstrous meat sandwiches for lunch it is literally like walking onto the deck of an oil rig drilling for mud bunnies.

So that leaves you the creative option of finding some place to drop your pants. I have constructed elaborate leaning towers of plywood that fool the eye when you looked at them like magician’s closet people disappear into. These usually take time and that isn’t always on option.

Desperate times call for desperate measures.

The winter had faded and Spring asserted itself with a day that saw temperatures rise to testicle slow roasting levels. The kind of day where you started out wearing a winter jacket in the morning and stripping down to your underwear to drive home. The house we were working on was in the dead centre of a subdivision whose back yards all faced each other. The home owner was an elderly couple that had just returned from the annual wintering in Florida. They were both easily as tanned as I was after an entire season soaking up rays. They must have been used to hosting people frequently as the lady of the house brought out coffee in the cold morning light and egg salad sandwiches as the sun reached its zenith.

Not long after lunch, I felt the tell-tale gurgle in my stomach that started my internal clock ticking down to the time I would need to deploy my Navy SEAL team for “Operation Tootsie Roll”. It wasn’t long. A bomb was going to go off in my colon that would destroy my ass like Godzilla destroys Tokyo. I bolted for the ladder to head down off the roof but stopped as my stomach clenched up violently. I sucked my butt cheeks in tighter than every duck face selfie ever taken and shimmied down the ladder.

There was no way I could make the nearest coffee shop and I wasn’t going to drop the kids off in this ladies pool.

I scoured the yard quickly before finding a possible spot. There was a garden shed that hid a small space beside the back deck that if I dropped my coveralls and scooted backwards I could wedge my ass into it. I was in that panicked state of not wanting to shit my pants but not wanting to do it in the middle of a subdivision. My stomach made the choice for me at that point by gurgling once and then holding its breath.

I snapped my coverall straps off faster than a big breasted girl snaps off her bra at the end of the work day and frog hopped my ass back into the hole. What happened next does not need a full descriptive narrative other than to say when I straightened up it looked like someone had painted the back of the garden shed with a shotgun full of baby food. I shook my head looking behind me but not as violently as when I saw the fact I had splashed liquid sewage down the inside leg of my coveralls.

I groaned at the idea of having to pull them back up but it was either that or try to sneak across the yard to my truck with only a t-shirt on. With a shudder that must have looked like a dog shaking off from a dip in a septic tank, I pulled my clothes back into place. I stepped in a pool of egg salad and my own tears and heard it lap up the sides of my boots.

I shuffled towards the truck when I heard the front door open and the lady of the house emerge with a tray of coffee and cookies. My stomach rebelled again and I clenched up even tighter. If I was going to make it through the rest of the day I had to somehow get cleaned up.

“How’s everything going?” she asked with a smile as plastered on her face as the garish make up that must have been fashionable in her trailer park in Florida.

“Pretty good.” I lied as I felt something cold slide down my calf.

“Well, I thought you might like some cookies,” she said as she set the tray on a chair she clearly at on while chain-smoking “They should be okay but might be a bit stale. They were what we had before we went south.”

The realization that the eggs she had made the sandwiches with were likely as old as the cookies sent my stomach rolling in new-found panic.

“Ma’am, I believe I may have stepped in dog poop somewhere in your yard and was wondering if you had a hose I could rinse my boots off with.” I continued to lie.

“It’s right around the corner by the deck stairs.” She replied to my implied question and I shuffled in a bow-legged walk towards it. I ripped down my pants and hosed off the horror that was trapped inside. In my shit addled brain I assumed it would be easier to sit in wet pants the rest of the day as opposed to poopy ones.

I heard a lighter flick and a chair creak as the home owner sat in the opposing chair to the one with the coffee. She took a long drag off her cigarette before I heard her voice across the yard.

“If you wouldn’t mind hosing off the back of the shed when you are done I would really appreciate it.”

The Last Square Story


Anyone who has ever worked construction or had a door to door sales job or been on a long road trip knows, finding someplace half decent to poop is a nightmare. Not every customer is happy to let you into their home to drop a Big Crunch in their only toilet after filling up on Gatorade and Red Bull all day. That unfortunately leaves most of us with public bathrooms. Shudder.

The spring had been dragging on and the cool days gave way to a massive heat wave. The temperature had been steadily rising and culminated in a skin blistering day of sun that stung any exposed flesh in seconds of exposure. We were working on a large roof and the black surface only seemed to amplify the waves of shimmering heat rippling off its surface. I was sucking down fluids as fast as my esophagus would allow to stave of dehydration when my stomach inevitably revolted. In the wrong direction.

With a groaning blurble, I felt my insides drop and settle directly in my lower intestines. My ass cheeks clamped shut like a reverse chastity belt and I stood straight up with my legs locked together. With a groan, I shuffle stepped like a speed walker with a met addiction towards the ladder. It’s next to impossible to climb down a ladder with your legs welded together and your ass threatening to prolapse your intestines like the world’s smelliest jump rope but by simply using your hands and sliding your feet off each rung of the ladder, gravity does most of the work.

I drove my truck as fast as it would possibly go towards the only place I could think of that might have a bathroom, a convenience store that doubled as the areas tourism office. Yes, you read that right. Mercifully, its one of the few places I know of that has a portapotty outside that is at least mildly clean. As I pulled into the parking lot, my stomach let out a rumble that sounded like the space shuttle launch. As I lurked from the truck vainly holding my cupped hand over my clenched ass I noticed in horror a family racing me and beating me to the turquoise blue shed that was the only salvation for my underwear.  A young father raced ahead of me holding a young boy away from him like the world’s shittiest pinata and slammed the door shut literally in my face.

I hopped from foot to foot as I listened to the boy unleash a stream of urine that would have put out a forest fire. Had I not been fighting to keep my guts from exploding down my legs I would have been impressed. The door opened shortly there after and I shoved my way inside only to see urine dripping off every surface imaginable in there. My brain caught up with me for a second and I found myself wondering what magic trick the dad had pulled as both he and the kid had not a drop on them when they exited.

I have put my ass on a lot of bad spots but there was no way I was sitting in some kids pee so I bolted for the door like Usain Bolt if he was about to shit his pants. I crashed through the door and frantically looked around for any door that might be the bathroom. Not seeing it, I dashed for the counter and asked the clerk.

” Bathrooms for customers only,” was the reply from a snide older woman with dark tinted glasses and a voice that sounded like she had gargled semen while chain-smoking cigars. I grabbed the first chocolate bar I found in front of the counter and threw  a five dollar bill at her as she directed me to a door between the coolers and porn movies. I flew across the store faster than I would have thought possible and jumped out of my pants in mid-flight towards the toilet. I exploded in a fashion that would have done Jeff Daniels from Dumb and Dumber proud. I couldn’t believe it when I looked to my right and saw a roll of toilet paper with one measly square of toilet paper left on it.

” You gotta be kidding me,” I groaned as I looked around in fright. I hitched up my pants and pulled the seat of my pants away from my ass before hobble walking bow-legged out of the bathroom to ask the store clerk if they had anymore toilet paper. With a cackle she said there was lots on the shelf in front of me. I grabbed a package and headed back towards the bathroom when she yelled –

” You gotta pay for that!!!”

Turning bruskly, I stomped over to the cash register and laid another five dollar bill on the counter before heading back to the bathroom. I took my pants completely off and proceeded to clean myself up. I ended up with a leg up on the sink inspecting my ass in a yoga position that could likely be called the ” loose meat leafblower”. Satisfied, I headed back out to scream at the clerk when I stopped. There was no reason that anyone else should suffer in the store the way I did. I grabbed every package of toilet paper they had and walked to the counter. With a laugh, I paid for every roll of toilet paper in the store and walked outside. Now, I could cover the entire potapotty in an inch thick layer of paper before ever even touching the seat and the clerk would have to wipe her ass with old chip bags or rainbow licorice.

I laughed the whole way back to my truck when I stopped and turned to look back at the store. I doubled over in laughter when I realized what I had done.

I forgot to flush.

Interlude – Squat


People often commit to way too much. Too much time at work, too many activities on their schedule and trying desperately to squeeze out as many kids as that “961 Kids and Counting” woman. I can’t help it. She gives me the shudders. Having sex with her must be like throwing a hot dog down a hallway. You could likely throw a dildo at her the size of a basketball and get nothing but net.

There are however commitments people make and after last week I will never look at my commitment to the gym the same way.

I had been working out pretty heavy and loaded up the squat rack with two hundred and eighty-five pounds and ground out an agonizing final set. Its been a while since I could squat that much and was quite proud that surgically reconstructed bionic leg held up for the duration. I had just started to take the weights off when a very unassuming guy walks up and asked if I was done. When I nodded, barely able to get the words out, I asked if he wanted anything left on for him.

He said to leave the big plates on and he began to stack more and more weight on. I think my eyes bulged as I watched him load four hundred and fifty pounds on to the bar and settle underneath it. I casually but concerned asked if he wanted a spot and he waved me off as he stepped back with the massive load on his back.

Yes. I said massive load on his back. Get your mind out of the gutter. Pervert.

I moved away to the racks of dumbbells and grabbed a set of to do lunges with but kept an eye on the guy to see if he collapsed under the weight. You have to understand, this guy was holding over double his body weight and looked like he would buckle. He slowly dropped down and just as he reached the point he would press back up, I heard it.

A fart rippled out of the guys shorts followed closely behind by a squishing noise that truly couldn’t have been good. I didn’t want to ask but you could clearly tell he had just shit his pants. His eyes went wild as he dropped the weight to the lower tier of the rack and ran for the door clutching a poop against his ass. I busted out laughing and sat down on a bench to catch my breath as I replayed the image over in my head.

A few minutes later I stood slack-jawed as the guy came back in and started taking weights off the bar. He didn’t say much as he was doing it and I was too afraid to ask if he needed help as I think I would have laughed all over again. To my total disbelief, the guy started loading up weights again but stopped around four hundred. He once again settled under the bar and stepped back with the weight on his shoulders.

Cringingly, I watched as he lowered himself and then blasted out a set of eight reps. It was painfully evidenced by the bulge of his sack protruding from the bottom of his shorts that he had simply tossed his undies in the trash, wiped himself off and decided to lower the weight a little. I figured at any point he was either going to blow a nut out the bottom of his nut sack or shit himself again. As he finished, he looked proudly at bar.

I realized I had never been that committed to a set of any lift that I would go right back at it after shitting myself. That and they make guys gym shorts way to absorbent of odor cause as he walked by me he smelled like he had pooped out a basket of onion rings covered in chicken gravy.

The Two For One Burger Story

One of the hardest things about working on the road is finding a decent place to eat.  I pretty much hate the burger chain places and as much as I love the place there is only so much Subway a guy can eat.

We had been working over an hour away from home on a building that would ironically end up being a restaurant and it was our last day on the job.  We had eaten at every little place we could find trying to find a decent but cheap burger shack.  We hadn’t noticed before but a small place had a huge sign offering two for one burgers.

We had been working our asses off trying to finish the job so we wouldn’t have to make the over hour-long drive yet again tomorrow.  We had skipped our morning break and by now my stomach was growling like a bear cub.  It was literally eating itself telling me to get some food in now.

It didn’t help that the smell of grilling burgers from this place was wafting towards us like a stripper wearing too much perfume.  I swear if they ever came out with a womans perfume that smelled like grilled steak it would replace Chanel number 5 as the most purchased scent ever.  My brother Dart and I looked at each other and basically raced for the ladder to see who would get there first.

The closer we got to the restaurant the more intense the smell became.  I was practically drooling by the time we entered the door. We both placed our orders for the two for one burger specials and waited impatiently.  I took a second to look around the place and noticed that with the exception of the staff we were the only people in there.  I was too hungry to notice this obvious red flag and it seemed like seconds later our orders were ready.

I tore open the wax paper wrapper and dove into the first bite.  I think the first burger was gone within five bites.  I smashed into the second one and noticed the meat was a little under done but for a guy that’s eaten steak that I think was still quivering when I cut it, it wasnt too bad.

Dart looked over at me as he was just getting into his second burger and he had a puzzled look on his face.

” Dude, are you done already?” he asked incredulously.

” Fuck to the yeah I am,” I laughed back ” I was starving.”

” I don’t think they were any good,” Dart said as he shook his head.

” They were better than good,” I said.

” No, I don’t think the meat was any good,” he countered.

” Youre just too fuckin picky,” I said as I headed back to work.

Now normally, I don’t eat much at lunch, especially when its hot and for good reason.  Food has a tendency to hit bottom hard and drag me down with it.  I noticed not long after that my stomach was slightly knotted and I burped and the stench was horrible. I looked over at Dart who had turned a colour that seemed like a mix between lime green and snot yellow.

Dart stood up and walked over towards me, one hand rubbing his stomach. I stood up and noticed my stomach was rolling hard.

” I told ….,” was all Dart managed to get out before he puked all down my right arm.  The smell hit me like a fist and while I have a very strong stomach the fact that I was covered in burger slime was all it took. I tried to keep it down as long as I could, hoping to at least make it to the edge of the building but there was no chance. I let fly with a shotgun blast of puke that covered a fairly large area of our job site. My team looked at us both like we had puked on them instead.

” I will clean that up when I get back,” I managed to get out as I headed for the ladder. I was pissed off and in severe intestinal pain. I headed back across the street to the burger place and I noticed the building locked up. I ran around the back of the building to see if any one was there only to find the parking lot empty. My stomach clenched and I literally exploded. No, it did not come out my mouth.

I stripped of my pants and underwear and cleaned myself up as best I could with my t-shirt. I was not about to subject anyone of my team to the stench of me so I balled up my utterly destroyed underwear and pulled my pants back on. Astonishingly, they had come up pretty much unscathed. I say pretty much, lets leave it at that.

I walked back to the front of the building now even more pissed off and I hung my underwear on the door handle of the building. I am one of those people who believe that we eat with all our senses. The smell of food is usually the first thing anyone notices before they eat a meal. I figure that if the food these people were gonna serve was shit then people should be able to smell it before they tried it.