The skirt crapper

I haven't laughed like I did this weekend in a very long time. Not only that, but I was all alone when the laughing occurred. And the source of my amusement is something that will be available for months to come, all I need to do is think about the line.

What line? I'm glad you asked. The line is, "I had crapped on my skirt!" which can be read over on Jane's blog.

Poor Jane! And while on a date too! Oh how I was doubled over with such guffawing, my body quaking but no noise coming out. Drop after drop streamed down my face and dripped onto my robe (first) and shirt (later when I went back and read it again.)

I really don't have a scat fetish, I just never lost my adolescent humorous fascination with it.

After reading Jane's poop stories, I tried to remember some of my own. Doesn't everyone have an embarassing poop story? ( They must, if they say no, they're lying.)

I can certainly remember a couple "crap in my pants" stories, mostly from early childhood of course. As an adult, crapping my pants was more the result of fart mistakes (you know, the one you thought was air.) Once, while standing in the kitchen in my robe, spouse came up beside me and I "farted", and a smart stream of liquipoo jettison straight at the floor creating quite a splat. Spouse, without skipping a beat said, "You're cleaning that up. And you're disgusting."

I have more, but one poo story at a time (I'm sure you'll agree) is sufficient.