Brian in Montana
Well-known member
Wow... A thread about defecation. Must be off season.
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Yeah man, Nothing else to talk about. It's the shits.Wow... A thread about defecation. Must be off season.
Suspenders are potentially a nasty trebuchet.Remember if you are snowmobiling, to get that snow suit completely out of the way of the dump site. You could end up with toxic waste in your hood…
Exactly, been there done that. Hope nobody was glassing in my direction that day.All of this goes out the window when you have to panic poop and suddenly a nice tree or rock to lean on looks like a Ritz Carlton bathroom
Thank you for your service Cush!After pooping in ammo crates in front of the platoon in Iraq, I'll drive to the crapper....
Similar one:After doing your business and other hunters are coming into your area, this is the best recourse.View attachment 232379
No sh*t, pun intended.I have been in many gas station bathrooms that are far worse than some pit toilets.
And then they lick your face, right?Many times I've crapped alongside the road in the brush. I never bother burying it or toilet paper. Just let the dogs out of the rig to do their business and presto my business just disappeared. Throw them each a breath mint and we're ready to hit the road again.
Sorry, there isn't an emoticon for that description.One of my close hunting buds was a carpet layer. He was on a rural job and there was no operable plumbing (water) in the new house build yet. He had a sudden defecation reflex and quickly egressed the back door and made it to the barbed wire fence, where he quickly unsnapped his bib overall's shoulder straps and assumed the pose, almost leaning on the wire. Well his premonition about explosive was correct and he coated the fence strands. When he stood up he didn't realize one of his straps was caught on a barb & when it released the strand trebuchet'd his hastily metabolized breakfast all over him.
It was funnier when he told it...
Kid prolly shit his pants, man. Or some old lady?? Show some empathy!Reviving this thread as I’m out and about cleaning pit toilets today. WTF? The same person who did this will probably be the first person to call and bitch about our facilities being dirty. How the hell do people live like this? Just remember, this Labor Day weekend there will be people cleaning restrooms and picking up after you at parks, campgrounds, boat landings and other public places while you are enjoying your day off.
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This isn’t even top 10 of what I’ve had to clean up.Kid prolly shit his pants, man. Or some old lady?? Show some empathy!
I took a friend hunting and he had to $hit really bad , he ran and jumped the barbwire fence and went behind a bush and I could see him dancing around the bush and he paused. And he shouted back at me and said he didn't have any toilet paper. So, I told him to use a dollar so I could see him walking back to the truck and I could see he had $hit all over his hands and clear up to elbow. I asked him did he use a dollar he said yes ** 3 quarters 2 dimes & a nickel **Last weekend I was on annual fishing trip with some high school friends. We camped, hiked, drank, fished and survived. One evening, a raucous debate arose questioning the manhood and heartiness of those present.
We were 1.5 miles from a campground at which there were pit toilets, and some of us thought it worth it to drive the 3 minutes down the road to use them, while others thought such behavior was unbecoming. I strongly believe that pooping in a pit toilet is a finer experience than squatting in the wilds, but the question is: How much finer? At what distance is getting to the pit toilet no longer justified, and the proper thing to do is to grab the shovel and take a walk?
A little history that may influence my own assessment: When I was 11 or 12, I went to Boy Scout Camp somewhere out by Anaconda. The toilet situation was a 10 foot 2 x 12, in which 4 toilet holes were cut. There were no dividers. If ya had to go, ya had to go with possibility of someone seeing you. I was deeply bothered by this, and held it in for 3 days. On the night of the 3rd day, I was on the verge of an internal bleve, and so I waited till about 2 in the morning. Certainly, I would have that holed plank to myself. I stayed up and made my move, creeping through the night to the outhouse. I took a seat, and no sooner did I open the valve, than a friend of mine, let's call him Jake, came in. Jake sat down right next to me and began a conversation. And in my relief I was horrified.