The term ‘toilet’ comes from the French ‘toilette’, which meant ‘dressing room’ back in the day. And while some women still get dressed in there (usually because they’ve just had dirty, raunchy sex with a stranger in a nite club crapper), it’s now widely accepted that the word refers to that little porcelain god that we do our wees and poos in and sometimes pray to when we’ve drank too much.
Yet it occurred to me recently that most people don’t even know how to properly go about their business when it comes to la toilette. Neither gender is innocent when it comes to abusing this modern marvel of human ingenuity. I have seen both men and women do exceedingly disgusting and mindless things when it comes to the basic motion of human waste disposal. So this week I will plumb new depths by examining these rituals and by educating you guys with some futuristic toilet practices that are sure to get your bowels rumbling.
Morning Glory Manoeuvres
Morning wood, morning glory, early riser, breakfast boner, morning tent, whatever you wanna call it, waking up with an erection after a refreshing night’s sleep is one of the more invigorating aspects of being a man. The fancy medical jargon for a spontaneous erection during sleep is nocturnal penile tumescence or NPT. Now we all know that morning wood isn’t just fun and games. It has its pros and cons – its ups and downs, you might say. The most taxing problem of course, is the age-old challenge of urinating with an erection.
If you haven’t yet managed to conquer this conundrum than it’s a certainty that someone is probably experiencing the displeasing sensation of trundling through a puddle of your warm urine when using the bathroom in the morning. Of all the morning glory manoeuvres that can be pulled to alleviate this problem, my personal favourite is ‘The Lunge’
Grasp your stiffy firmly while standing a foot or two away from the toilet and lean forward while pushing your backside into the air slightly so your spitting cobra is now pointing downwards. Take aim and hold your body rigid. This position also strengthens your abs and core muscles so not only are you guaranteeing your girlfriend won’t slip over and throw a disc on her way to the shower, but you’re getting fit while you pee. It’s win-win.
The Dry, Dry, Dry, Wet, Dry Method.
Why this isn’t common practice is beyond me. Most people just use toilet paper when it comes to rectifying their rectum after a satisfying plop or three. This is fine, if you’re living in the dark ages. However being the meta bathroom deity that I am, I’m on a whole (hole) other level when it comes to the art of butt wiping.
Is toilet paper on its own really sanitising your pucker as much as it could be? Of course not! You need some moisture on there to properly clean your exhaust port! Now you could spit on the last bit of toilet paper you use, but that’s kinda rank. We live in a society people, we’re not fucking animals.
So ideally, you should have a packet of wet wipes sitting near your WC at all times. You use the toilet paper until it seems like all the yucky butt sludge has gone. For most people this is enough. But as a proponent of futuristic toilet practices you’re gonna go deeper. This is when you use the wet wipe. You’ll notice at this point there is a slightly off coloured brown stain on the wet wipe when you’re done. You guessed it; this is the remaining poo stain that 99.5% of people are happy to leave remaining after they’ve shat.
To finish the ritual off, you use one final bit of toilet paper to dry the wetness the wet wipe has left on your balloon knot so you aren’t walking around with that squoodgy feeling for an hour afterwards.
I’d personally recommend the soap and fragrance free wet wipes just to avoid any possible irritations.
Batten the Hatches
For awhile there it was a fairly common joke and source of tension between the sexes that men always left the seat up so they could urinate with the least amount of difficulty. Oh how times are changing. Of the many women that have inhabited the hallowed halls of my apartment, the majority have left the seat down but the lid up. Even my ex-girlfriend used to do it all the time. It drove me fucking nuts! I’m a guy and I put both the seat and the lid down, why is my hospitality being repaid with nothing but shit smells and inconvenience?
After having this conversation with several women, a girl I slept with recently finally told me the honest truth. They are doing it to us men on purpose to get revenge for us leaving the seat up. Wily fucking bitches. After decades of men having an easy piss, women are now doing the same thing and it’s bang out of order I tell you.
I mean I don’t mind psychological warfare with a woman, it gives me wood. What I do mind is biological butt germs settling on my fucking toothbrush or coating my basin in a nice glossy Staphylococcus. The lid is there for a reason people! It traps not only the vilest of stench that has emanated from your mud whistle, but also nasty germs that escape – especially from the mist of the toilet flushing.
But if you don’t believe me, here’s some further reading on the subject:
If the Cubicle’s Rockin’, Don’t Come a Knockin’
One time I was at a nite club and shortly after eating something dodgy (reads drugs) my stomach began to churn. It swirled and contracted, bubbling ominously. I felt that all too familiar sensation of a man who was about to crap his pants if he didn’t reach a commode and quickly. I tore off from the dance floor, praying that the one cubicle in the toilets on this level would be unoccupied. Thankfully due to the unhygienic conditions this shitter was normally kept in by the less than vigilant floor staff on a typical Friday or Saturday nite, it was empty.
I dashed into the stall and slammed the door shut, frantically clutching at my belt to get my jeans off. No sooner did I pull down my strides and sit down did I emit an explosive blast of putrefaction. But the initial detonation was just the beginning. This heinous bowel movement had stamina and I bore down and braced myself for the toilet bowl destruction that was about to ensue.
Next thing you know, some cunt starts banging on the cubicle door. “I’m in here” I manage to wheeze, as below me a tempest erupts. Old mate waits for a little while longer before banging on the door again. “Still here!” I gasp as I hang on for dear life. It’s obvious that this fellow presumes that like the majority of people who typically inhabit this cubicle, I am inside consuming illicit substances and he is impatiently waiting outside to do the same.
Finally, this cheeky prick grabs the frame of the cubicle and pulls himself up to see what I’m doing in there. As I look up at his face I see his mouth gape open in horror, as the unholy stench hits him square in the kisser. He literally reels and falls backwards, unable to escape the evil that has now embraced his soul.
Triumphantly I scream “SEE! I FUCKING TOLD YOU I WAS IN HERE!” and start to cackle. What a hide to look over the door, that young man sure got his just desserts. I finish my business and leave the bathroom highly satisfied…and slightly wasted.
The moral of the story being, never interrupt someone’s potty time.
It is sacred.