Since jibir told his shitty story, I’ll tell mine.
Mom, Pop, hubby, and I go to the Georgia coast one day to enjoy some fresh seafood. It was a great day out. When we were near back home we stopped in a Walmart to pick up a few things.
There was a huge rumble in my stomach accompanied by a bend-over cramp. Off I go to the back of the store to the restrooms. On the way I meet Mom who has her car keys clenched in her hand and running for the front door. I asked where she was going. She says home, I ate a bad oyster. I said me too, we would never make it home. We both run for the restrooms. When we get in the stalls, we both made some serious bad oyster shit with plenty of sounds and splashing. Then we started laughing. Side splitting laughing along with all the disgusting diarrhea noises. We could hear women walking in and groaning then leaving. Some poor woman exclaims “My God!” That made us laugh even more.
Took us a while to gain our composure and clean up our mascara. We slunk out of the store via the auto section so we wouldn’t run into any women.
Good Grief. Its called a courtesy flush. Timing is everything. Covers the noise and the smell.
If its a regular event you probably need to change your diet but good luck with that eating Filipino food. . You know the saying. Slop in....Slop out.
Not according to my shipboard time. A courtesy flush is generally requested when the stench of the person in the stall next to you has become overwhelming.
For example:
A: banging on the stall wall... Courtesy flush please, you're gagging me.
B: Sorry, no problem, I get the shits everytime I eat Chico's slop.
The Filipino food I generally eat is home cooked.
"I was a good student. I comprehend very well, OK, better than I think almost anybody," - President Trump comparing his legal knowledge to a Federal judge.
Perhaps you're just a slob.
Your filipino co spacers never need to fart or take a dump?
Well, I got the film developed so I can post up the pictures from my tablet that show the severity of my "shituation".
Here's my place of work....first a shot from the receptionist's desk to the throne room.
The throne room is the closed wooden door facing us on the left. Note the proximity of the cubicles and the meeting area on the right at the end of the hall.
A little further down the hall...the cubicle on the left is my "office". It's the closest one to the "CR" (comfort room as the room is called here) for obvious reasons.
Then a shot of "The Room Where It All Happens" with the grand entrance to my cubicle on the left.
I rather like the idea of a fart sound cancelling device. I would imagine Muzak would gladly invest in the technology so their music could be heard in public toilets.
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