Cell Phones and the bathroom

rjt1000

OK, there is NOTHING that is so important that it can't wait until AFTER you're done in the bathroom to call me. I mean, whatever it is, I'm willing to wait until you're done before talking with you. In fact, I'm at a point where if I realize you're calling me from a bathroom, I'm going to hang up on you.

Farfourah

Just listen for the echo, or splashes of....

Phoenix59

OMG! I hate when people do that! I don't want to hear your or anyone else's bathroom business...PLEASE! I also hate when someone comes into a public restroom, phone in hand and continues with their phone call regardless of other occupants. It's downright rude!

Shock_Wave

Just listen for the echo, or splashes of....

^LMAO! Wow this chick is funny! I kind of choked while drinking my water laughing after I read this.

clydethecat

i cant believe people do this! come on, get the phone surgically removed from your head.

what did we all do before cell phones... i have a cell phone i rarely use (for business only) when i leave the house, there is no way to contact me until i get back, and i like it that way...

cell phones suck

ett

LauraMacNCheese

Found this a while ago...enjoy!

All in all, it hadn't been a good day. Bad traffic, a malfunctioning computer, incompetent coworkers and a sore back all made me a seething cauldron of rage. But more importantly for this story, it had been over forty-eight hours since I'd last taken a dump. I'd tried to jumpstart the process, beginning my day with a bowl of bowel-cleansing fiber cereal, following it with six cups of coffee at work, and adding a bean-laden lunch at Taco Bell. As I was returning home from work, my insides let me know with subtle rumbles and the emission of the occasional tiny fart that Big Things would be happening soon. Alas, I had to stop at the mall to pick up an order for my wife. I completed this task, and as I was walking past the stores on my way backto the car, I noticed a large sale sign proclaiming, "Everything Must Go!" This was prophetic, for my colon informed me with a sudden violent cramp and a wet, squeaky fart that everything was indeed about to go. I hurried to the mall bathrooms. I surveyed the five stalls, which I have numbered 0 through 4 (I write a lot of software) for your convenience:

0.Occupied.

1.Clean, but Bathroom Protocol forbids its use, as it's next to the occupied one.

2.Poo on seat.

3.Poo and toilet paper in bowl, unidentifiable liquid splattered on seat.

4.No toilet paper, no stall door, unidentifiable sticky object near base of
toilet.

Clearly, it had to be Stall ..1. I trudged back, entered, dropped trou and sat down. I'm normally a fairly Shameful ******. I wasn't happy about being next to the occupied stall, but Big Things were afoot.

I was just getting ready to bear down when all of a sudden the sweet sounds of Beethoven came from next door, followed by a fumbling, and then the sound of a voice answering the ringing phone. As usual for a cell phone conversation, the voice was exactly 8 dB louder than it needed to be. Out of Shameful habit, my sphincter slammed shut. The inane conversation went on and on. Mr. ****** was blathering to Mrs. ****** about the ****ty day he had. I sat there, cramping and miserable, waiting for him to finish. As the loud conversation dragged on, I became angrier and angrier, thinking that I, too, had a crappy day, but I was too polite to yak about in public. My bowels let me know in no uncertain terms that if I didn't get crapping soon, my day would be getting even crappier.

Finally my anger reached a point that overcame Shamefulness. I no longer cared. I gripped the toilet paper holder with one hand, braced my other hand against the side of the stall, and pushed with all my might. I was rewarded with a fart of colossal magnitude -- a cross between the sound of someone ripping a very wet bed sheet in half and of plywood being torn off a wall. The sound gradually transitioned into a heavily modulated low-RPM tone, not unlike someone firing up a Harley. I managed to hit the resonance frequency of the stall, and it shook gently.

Once my *kitten* cheeks stopped flapping in the breeze, three things became apparent:

(1) The next-door conversation had ceased;

(2) my colon's continued seizing indicated that there was more to come; and
(3) the bathroom was now beset by a horrible, eldritch stench.

It was as if a gateway to Hell had been opened. The foul miasma quickly made its way underthe stall and began choking my poop-mate. This initial "herald" fart had ended his conversation in mid-sentence.

"Oh my God," I heard him utter, following it with suppressed sounds of choking, and then, "No, baby, that wasn't me (cough, gag), you could hear that (gag)??"

Now there was no stopping me. I pushed for all I was worth. I could swear that in the resulting cacophony of rips, squirts, splashes, poots, and blasts, I was actually lifted slightly off the pot. The amount of stuff in me was incredible. It sprayed against the bowl with tremendous force. Later, in surveying the damage, I'd see that liquid poop had actually managed to
ricochet out of the bowl and run down the side on to the floor. But for now, all I could do was hang on for the ride.

Next door I could hear him fumbling with the paper dispenser as he desperately tried to finish his task. Little snatches of conversation made themselves heard over my anal symphony: "Gotta go... horrible... throw up... in my mouth... not... make it... tell the kids... love them... oh God..." followed by more sounds of suppressed gagging and retching.

Alas, it is evidently difficult to hold one's phone and wipe one's bum at the same time. Just as my high-pressure abuse of the toilet was winding down, I heard a plop and splash from next door, followed by string of swear words and gags. My poop-mate had dropped his phone into the toilet.

There was a lull in my production, and the restroom became deathly quiet. I could envision him standing there, wondering what to do. A final anal announcement came trumpeting from my behind, small chunks plopping noisily into the water. That must have been the last straw. I heard a flush, a fumbling with the lock, and then the stall door was thrown open. I heard him running out of the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

After a considerable amount of paperwork, I got up and surveyed the damage. I felt bad for the janitor who'd be forced to deal with this, but I knew that flushing was not an option. No toilet in the world could handle that unholy mess. Flushing would only lead to a floor flooded with filth.

As I left, I glanced into the next-door stall. Nothing remained in the bowl. Had he flushed his phone, or had he plucked it out and left the bathroom with nasty unwashed hands? The world will never know.

I exited the bathroom, momentarily proud and Shameless, looking around for a face glaring at me. But I saw no one. I suspect that somehow my supernatural elimination has managed to transfer my Shamefulness to my anonymous poop-mate. I think it'll be a long time before he can bring himself to poop in public -- and I doubt he'll ever again answer his cell phone in the loo. And this, my friends, is why you should never talk on your phone in the bathroom.

k8blujay2

OMG! I could not get through ^^^^ this without gagging.... :sick:

LauraMacNCheese

OMG! I could not get through ^^^^ this without gagging.... :sick:

sorry...growing up around 6 older brothers has pretty much desensitized me to bathroom humor...

clydethecat

OMG!! that was freaking brilliant! thank you for blessing us with that wonderful story lol

Thriceshy

My mother does the "phone on the toilet" gig, and it horrifies me. Every time I realize she's doing it, I say, "Whoa, okay, gotta go, talk to you later, loveyoubye."

Ew.

k8blujay2

OMG! I could not get through ^^^^ this without gagging.... :sick:

sorry...growing up around 6 older brothers has pretty much desensitized me to bathroom humor...

No worries... I have two brothers myself... and a dad that was just as sick... oh and my grandfathers... and my uncles... oh you get the point... so I thought that story was funny as hell (I was surpressing my need to laugh hysterically(... I just couldn't help it when I was imagining digging a phone out of a toilet... with crap in it..

cabaray

That was great!!!

kekl

One time I was in a public bathroom and the lady in the stall next to me was sitting on the toilet, EATING POTATO CHIPS. I heard her open the bag and start crunching on them and then it was confirmed when she started talking on her cell phone - "Hey what are you up to? Yeah, I'm just sitting on the toilet and eating some chips"

My face: :frown:

AmberFaith90

My boyfriend and I do it to each other all the time. I guess we're a bit "too" comfortable with each other.

LauraMacNCheese

One time I was in a public bathroom and the lady in the stall next to me was sitting on the toilet, EATING CHIPS. I heard her open the bag and start crunching on them and then it was confirmed when she started talking on her cell phone - "Hey what are you up to? Yeah, I'm just sitting on the toilet and eating some chips"

My face: :frown:

PinkiePie07

I'll text in the bathroom if it's absolutely important, but actually talking, yeah no. Then again, texting might not be much better. I realized this yesterday when one of my facebook friend's decided to post a conversation she had via texts with her boyfriend while he was occupying someone's facilities. First I was like "gross" and then second I was like "why the h*** would you post this to Facebook?".

EliseVanca

Found this a while ago...enjoy!

All in all, it hadn't been a good day. Bad traffic, a malfunctioning computer, incompetent coworkers and a sore back all made me a seething cauldron of rage. But more importantly for this story, it had been over forty-eight hours since I'd last taken a dump. I'd tried to jumpstart the process, beginning my day with a bowl of bowel-cleansing fiber cereal, following it with six cups of coffee at work, and adding a bean-laden lunch at Taco Bell. As I was returning home from work, my insides let me know with subtle rumbles and the emission of the occasional tiny fart that Big Things would be happening soon. Alas, I had to stop at the mall to pick up an order for my wife. I completed this task, and as I was walking past the stores on my way backto the car, I noticed a large sale sign proclaiming, "Everything Must Go!" This was prophetic, for my colon informed me with a sudden violent cramp and a wet, squeaky fart that everything was indeed about to go. I hurried to the mall bathrooms. I surveyed the five stalls, which I have numbered 0 through 4 (I write a lot of software) for your convenience:

0.Occupied.

1.Clean, but Bathroom Protocol forbids its use, as it's next to the occupied one.

2.Poo on seat.

3.Poo and toilet paper in bowl, unidentifiable liquid splattered on seat.

4.No toilet paper, no stall door, unidentifiable sticky object near base of
toilet.

Clearly, it had to be Stall ..1. I trudged back, entered, dropped trou and sat down. I'm normally a fairly Shameful ******. I wasn't happy about being next to the occupied stall, but Big Things were afoot.

I was just getting ready to bear down when all of a sudden the sweet sounds of Beethoven came from next door, followed by a fumbling, and then the sound of a voice answering the ringing phone. As usual for a cell phone conversation, the voice was exactly 8 dB louder than it needed to be. Out of Shameful habit, my sphincter slammed shut. The inane conversation went on and on. Mr. ****** was blathering to Mrs. ****** about the ****ty day he had. I sat there, cramping and miserable, waiting for him to finish. As the loud conversation dragged on, I became angrier and angrier, thinking that I, too, had a crappy day, but I was too polite to yak about in public. My bowels let me know in no uncertain terms that if I didn't get crapping soon, my day would be getting even crappier.

Finally my anger reached a point that overcame Shamefulness. I no longer cared. I gripped the toilet paper holder with one hand, braced my other hand against the side of the stall, and pushed with all my might. I was rewarded with a fart of colossal magnitude -- a cross between the sound of someone ripping a very wet bed sheet in half and of plywood being torn off a wall. The sound gradually transitioned into a heavily modulated low-RPM tone, not unlike someone firing up a Harley. I managed to hit the resonance frequency of the stall, and it shook gently.

Once my *kitten* cheeks stopped flapping in the breeze, three things became apparent:

(1) The next-door conversation had ceased;

(2) my colon's continued seizing indicated that there was more to come; and
(3) the bathroom was now beset by a horrible, eldritch stench.

It was as if a gateway to Hell had been opened. The foul miasma quickly made its way underthe stall and began choking my poop-mate. This initial "herald" fart had ended his conversation in mid-sentence.

"Oh my God," I heard him utter, following it with suppressed sounds of choking, and then, "No, baby, that wasn't me (cough, gag), you could hear that (gag)??"

Now there was no stopping me. I pushed for all I was worth. I could swear that in the resulting cacophony of rips, squirts, splashes, poots, and blasts, I was actually lifted slightly off the pot. The amount of stuff in me was incredible. It sprayed against the bowl with tremendous force. Later, in surveying the damage, I'd see that liquid poop had actually managed to
ricochet out of the bowl and run down the side on to the floor. But for now, all I could do was hang on for the ride.

Next door I could hear him fumbling with the paper dispenser as he desperately tried to finish his task. Little snatches of conversation made themselves heard over my anal symphony: "Gotta go... horrible... throw up... in my mouth... not... make it... tell the kids... love them... oh God..." followed by more sounds of suppressed gagging and retching.

Alas, it is evidently difficult to hold one's phone and wipe one's bum at the same time. Just as my high-pressure abuse of the toilet was winding down, I heard a plop and splash from next door, followed by string of swear words and gags. My poop-mate had dropped his phone into the toilet.

There was a lull in my production, and the restroom became deathly quiet. I could envision him standing there, wondering what to do. A final anal announcement came trumpeting from my behind, small chunks plopping noisily into the water. That must have been the last straw. I heard a flush, a fumbling with the lock, and then the stall door was thrown open. I heard him running out of the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

After a considerable amount of paperwork, I got up and surveyed the damage. I felt bad for the janitor who'd be forced to deal with this, but I knew that flushing was not an option. No toilet in the world could handle that unholy mess. Flushing would only lead to a floor flooded with filth.

As I left, I glanced into the next-door stall. Nothing remained in the bowl. Had he flushed his phone, or had he plucked it out and left the bathroom with nasty unwashed hands? The world will never know.

I exited the bathroom, momentarily proud and Shameless, looking around for a face glaring at me. But I saw no one. I suspect that somehow my supernatural elimination has managed to transfer my Shamefulness to my anonymous poop-mate. I think it'll be a long time before he can bring himself to poop in public -- and I doubt he'll ever again answer his cell phone in the loo. And this, my friends, is why you should never talk on your phone in the bathroom.

hahahahahaha XD

kittzle

I'm glad I'm the only one upstairs in my office area right now, I couldn't get through that story without laughing insanely, and I couldn't stop reading either, LOL.

I used to have two male friends that always called me while going to the bathroom. And I hung up on both bozos all the time!

mwilke

So, I was reading that and laughing uncontrollably and sitting next to my husband, who asked what I was reading... I couldn't explain. But that was one of the funniest things I think I have read.

SONIA820

MOST EPIC THREAD EVERY!!!


And ewwwwwwww....

sissypunks

Loved the story couldnt help but laugh made my day brighter!:laugh:

WickedGarden

I used to work for one of the big name cell phone companies. On the business side, (so I just talked to business customers), I would get at least 2 calls a day to replace a phone that had been dropped in the toilet. TWO CALLS...EVERY DAY!

hazev74

One time I was in a public bathroom and the lady in the stall next to me was sitting on the toilet, EATING CHIPS. I heard her open the bag and start crunching on them and then it was confirmed when she started talking on her cell phone - "Hey what are you up to? Yeah, I'm just sitting on the toilet and eating some chips"

My face: :frown:

LauraMacNCheese

Bump for my homegirl to read :bigsmile:

lgbeiza

i also hate the people who think its normal to continue their conversation while they are taking care of business. but we must admit that it is an awesome thread starter..

:laugh: