The Log Blog

We all do it. Let's start talking about it.

Category: Originals

Fluctuation in E Flat

Saxophone
“Beans, Beans the Musical Fruit, the more you eat the more you toot!”

Every good saxophonist knows how important it is to use the diaphragm. The amazing sounds that Kenny G or Joe Henderson are able to produce are all supported by a muscle much lower than the mouth and lungs. My band directors all instructed me to breathe low and deep in the gut, then push the sound out gradually in a controlled manner. As my skill on the saxophone increased, so did my ability to control my diaphragm to help me produce the sounds and tone that I wanted.

After a long day at school, I had several items that I had to take care of on my agenda. I had to practice my saxophone and I had to poop. I decided to practice first and poop second, naturally leaving the best for last. However, as I began to practice using my diaphragm the movement in my bowels made the urge to poop greater. I fought the urge for a bit, but soon it was too strong. As I began to remove my saxophone from my neck strap to go use the bathroom, my jr. high mind began connecting some dots. Muscles that I used to play the saxophone and muscles that I used to push the poop out were in the same general area. Could the practice of one be used to assist the other?

I immediately sprang into action to try my experiment. Thinking back, it is a strange thing indeed to picture myself walking into a bathroom carrying a stand, some music, and a saxophone. Getting situated took some extra effort. I had to juggle the pant removal and saxophone and stand adjusting, but I soon settled in. I proceeded to attempt practicing both instruments. I’m sure that I sounded like a crazy person as sounds of a saxophone, a person pooping, and laughter at the ridiculousness of the situation floated through the bathroom door. Unfortunately, however, the musical partnership of saxophone and poop was not meant to be. It was much too hard to coordinate the two similar, but opposing bodily functions. Eventually, I gave up and finished my bathroom business with my saxophone dejectedly placed on the floor. The experiment had failed, but I was still proud of my attempt. I knew that in the musical world I could hold my head up high because I knew that I had taken my instrument to a level few saxophonists have dared to go.

-Jane Pooptrane

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The Not-So-Squatty

No Seat
On a recent trip to Central America, I had the unfortunate opportunity to try out a sort of bathroom which I had previously never experienced. It began on a sweltering, humid day in a small village which only had running water in two buildings. Regrettably, the call of nature is not one which can be ignored for an extended period of time, and Montezuma’s revenge had hit me hard. I made my way to the small outhouse at the top of the hill. I was instructed that toilet paper was to be thrown in the trash can, and when I was finished I was to scoop water out of a nearby trough with a bucket and use it to flush. Upon venturing inside, I discovered that this was not your average squatty. It was not a hole in the ground, nor was it a functional western toilet. Instead, it was merely the toilet bowl, entirely void of a seat or reservoir. Needless to say, this made for a very uncomfortable process. Sitting on the lip was out of the question; the sanitation around food preparation was in doubt, let alone a toilet bowl. Left with no other options, I was forced to perform a wall sit over the toilet, but without a wall to lean on. I suffered as long as I could and finally completed the deed. My thighs trembled from exhaustion. I could hardly walk, but I needed to leave that foul stench behind to air out. On the plus side, this building (if it could be called a building) was anything but fully enclosed. This allowed a breeze to blow through, clearing the air. I quickly scooped a bucket of water, paused just long enough to make sure the toilet was completely flushed, and exited as quickly as possible, praying I wouldn’t have to return. I survived the rest of my time without a repeat experience, but the fear created stayed with me until we got off the plane in the states and I knew I had a solid toilet, in which I could flush my toilet paper with the press of a button, and on which I could relax while I did my business.

-Lucky Logger

Death of an Inspiration

Recently, I discovered that a hero of mine had died. While we had only met briefly a few times, this hero had a huge impact on me. Not only is the Log Blog a result of this inspiration, but my pursuit of better toilets and a better experience is thanks to just a few of these meetings. I remember one lesson in particular. This was the time I learned about the ideal partier’s restroom. After a long night of partying or sickness, one may need access to both the toilet and the sink at the same time. It just so happened that this particular, quaint bathroom was so tiny that, while sitting on the toilet, one’s face was practically forced into the sink whether one was sick or not. The implications of this statement didn’t immediately sink in, but over time I have realized several things from the experience. First, I now know that there are many hidden features, both positive and negative, which we many not recognize. We have to dig deeper and explore each place thoroughly from a variety of angles before we can truly discount a restroom. The next lesson I learned was that discussion is infinitely beneficial. If I had not been told of this alternate use, I never would have been inspired to explore the ins-and-outs of toilets to such a depth. The final lesson I learned from this acquaintance is that we have to take advantage of opportunities while we have them. I never became personal friends, but only had brief contact. As you may have guessed, this incredible impact, this inspiration, this influence on my life is a toilet. Now it no longer works. The water has been shut off, and I never had the pleasure of using it. If I could go back I would fight to keep this bathroom working. But since I can’t, let it be a lesson to us all. The bathroom is a place to experience. Let us not waste our time there, but take advantage of every opportunity to better ourselves and delve into the discarded aspects of life.

—Daffy Dung

You Belong

“That is part of the beauty of all literature. You discover that your longings are universal longings, that you’re not lonely and isolated from anyone. You belong.”

― F. Scott Fitzgerald

When we poop, we experience this true sense of belonging described by Fitzgerald. Every poop is a little piece of literature. Each time you sit down on the toilet to excrete fecal matter, you are telling a story. Some poops are poems, brief and beautiful. Some poops are novels, a series of events coming together in one glorious finished project. Some poops are chronicles that can last for days, telling a story of adventure and excitement. In pooping and discussing poop with others, we discover that our longings are truly universal. Our experiences on the toilet can bring us together and remind us that we are not alone. Next time you sit down to down to poop, take a moment to reflect on how intrinsically connected you are with humanity in that moment.

-R.J. Crapper

Uninvited Guest

This story is not about the actual poop. Though it was glorious, this story is about the experience. After a long day at a swim meet, I decided I would “claim my throne”. It was time to poop. I walk into the Men’s restroom and there is a father and his 7 year old son washing their hands for what seemed an eternity. As they did that, I tried to get into one of the stalls; however, both of them were locked. I look underneath the stalls to check if they were actually occupied. They were both empty. I thought to myself, “This is a bunch of crap”. (pun intended). Then the little kid looks at me and says that he crawled underneath them and locked them. The little weirdo decides to go unlock the stall for me. Now I can finally release my excretes.

As I sit on the pot all of the sudden that little mother trucker peeks his head under the stall. I’m yelling at him to get the freak outta there. He leaves for a second and crawls underneath the stall and stands in front of me as I’m pooping. I yell at this kid, “Dude, what are you doing, get outta here!!!!”

Finally after about 15 long awkward seconds, his dad is finally saying that he needs to get out of my stall and they leave.

They finally left and I could defecate in private. And it was glorious.

-John Johnz

A Good Restroom

Pooping is inspiring. It is one of the few actions that drive men to better themselves, achieve the impossible, and create solutions for the world’s problems. When one considers all the positive elements of pooping, (with no negatives, mind you) it makes me wonder why restrooms are so bland and thrown together. Since the fall of man, life on earth has been a continual struggle to deny the sinful desires of the depraved mind and train ourselves to make decisions that improve society. Some cultures have done a better job of this than others. One of the most difficult impulses man needs to fight is the impulse to neglect the construction of peaceful and enjoyable crappers. If men have good restrooms, they will spend more time pooping. When men (and women) spend more time pooping, all of society benefits.

I will try to summarize what constitutes a good restroom in my opinion:

1. Natural light. Pooping is organic, and I believe the lighting should also be organic. Dark, musty bathrooms are a crime against humanity and should be done away with. Recently my grandma tiled over the window in her bathroom to put in a shower. I nearly cried. The only thing that rivals a poop taken under the light of the sun is a shower taken under the light of the sun. What a shame.

2. Cleanliness. Yes I know this goes against most male’s tendencies, but it’s true. Clean bathrooms are simply more peaceful.

3. Discover what sound is most stimulating to your mind. Everyone is different, but heightening the enjoyment of a poop can be done by discovering what audio companion you need. For some it’s silence, others white noise, like a fan, and many it’s music. In that case, it is your duty as a human to discover what music is most stimulating to your mind.

4. Toilet. Don’t ever think the toilet doesn’t matter when pooping. Ever. The body is made to poop most effectively while squatting (without any aid) So I like to meet it in the middle. I like to have to squat down pretty low to hit the porcelain rim. And it can’t be too small of a circumference. If I feel any risk of my fluids not reaching their targeted destination, there’s not enough room. I even like a small gap in the front in case I need to hock a loogie and spit.

And that folks is my primary four elements to a successful poop. I’m sure I will expand on this later but until then, take it sleazy.

-Harold “Stinky” Dickinson

Half Defecation

Because I trust the Log Blog and all that it stands for, I feel that I can freely share my poop stories with the general public. I’ll admit that I am not new to pooping. I have been pooping for nearly 22 years now. When I was younger, I often depended on my family to help me cleanse my rectal facility following secretions. Usually after I finished my business, a would simply send out a call consisting of the simple phrase “I am done” from the porcelain throne. However, on occasion, my parents would be out and about doing their own things, sometimes even outside of the house. On these occurrences, I would find myself uncomfortably stranded in the bathroom. After I had exhausted my efforts, it was all I could do to let out a blood curdling scream, “I. AM. DOOOOOOOOOOONE!!!” I am not proud of this, but what is a little boy to do? I can only wonder, since my windows were open, what my neighbors thought I had finished doing and why it required such profound effort to share my success with the entire community.

Sadly, this is not the story I was requested to share with the Log Blog. I am an athlete. With good diet and exercise, I am a very regular customer of the stalls. Recently, I have become injured due to sports. I herniated a vertebral disk between by L5 and S1 vertebrae. You may wonder what this has to do with pooping, but I can assure you that it is quite relevant. Due to this injury, I had a pooping experience that was quite surreal, and perhaps Biblical. Upon seeing a medical doctor, we found it in my best interest to receive a steroid shot to the lower back to relieve inflammation upon my sciatic nerve. It is a very simple procedure where they take a single needle into my back, inject a local anesthetic, and follow it with the steroid. It is really quite a minor operation, but they take precautions and gurney you around in a bed and wheelchair. A few hours after the procedure, I still had numbness in my buttock when nature requested my attendance in the bathroom. I accepted the invitation and promptly sat down on the toilet and began relieving myself. After a few moments, I realized something was terribly wrong. I couldn’t tell if I was pooping. The anesthetic I received was only for one side of my back and I could only feel my right cheek. Due to this, only the right side of my anal sphincter could tell what was going on and my brain was having a terrible time interpreting data from my anal nerves. This was somewhat of a Biblical revelation and the verse Matthew 6:3 came to mind: “But when you give to the needy, do not let your left hand know what your rang hand is doing.” I thought to myself, “This must be what Jesus feels like when he poops.” The right side of my anal sphincter had no idea what the left side was doing. I’ve never felt so sneaky pooping in my life. It was exhilarating. Sadly, all good things must come to an end, and with a ghost wipe, skip, and a jump, I was on my merry little way. I cannot wait for my next injection.

-Edgar Allen Poop

The Teacup Toilet

This logging took place at the beginning of my summer vacation last year. I was back home, large and in charge. Since it was still my first week back, I was in the habit of getting up early in the mornings and as a result, my mom would leave me some kind of breakfast. This particular morning, I woke to the aroma of eggs and bacon with a side of pancakes next to good ol’ Aunt Jemima and a fresh pot of coffee. I eagerly got out of bed with a grin on my face and made my way downstairs to the tile floored kitchen. This hearty breakfast tasted as good as it looked and I was in heaven for about four and a half minutes. Soon after, my youngest sister came downstairs. Apparently, she was in the shower while I was downstairs and she asked if I could drive her to school. I shrugged my shoulders and said “why not”? I drank what was left of my warm cup of coffee, mixed with rich, vanilla creamer to wash down the sweet, buttered pancakes and went to my old room to throw on some pants and shoes. I ended up taking a quick nap, just a lil’ catnap, and my sister woke me up saying that she only had 10 minutes to get to class. We ran out to my car and as I put the key in the ignition, something felt a little peculiar. The engine roared awake and I stepped on the gas petal, making our way down the street on this warm, sunny morning. With the windows down and a cool breeze running through our hair, we jammed to the musical stylings of Britney Spears’s “Toxic”. Not long after, we arrived at my sister’s elementary school, but I knew there was something in me that needed to come out and it needed to come out now. I tried to hold it in, but it was no use. “BUUUUURP”. Relief. My stomach settled and I waved at my sister as she went in through the double doors. I made my way out of the parking lot, but before coming to the stop sign, I realized that the coffee was not the only thing brewing that morning. I immediately pulled a U-ey and parked as quickly as possible before power-walking into my sister’s school. Casually, I walked up to the front office and asked where my sister’s Homeroom was. They pointed me in her direction and I pulled away as soon as I turned the corner. Bathroom, bathroom, bathroom. I was getting desperate and began to penguin-sprint, looking for any sign of a bathroom nearby. Finally, the light at the end of the tunnel shone bright and I waddled to my destiny. I walked in unbuttoning my pants, and kicked open a stall before coming to a dead-stop. “What is this?”, I thought to myself. “Oh god… They’re tiny. It’s going to be like pooping in teacups…” I chortled at the thought and again shrugged my shoulders and said “Why not”? I squatted lower than I ever had in my whole life, in perfect form too, thanks to my high school lifting class. I unleashed the beast and within minutes I had done something horrible. The miniature ceramic throne was almost filled to the top, and despite my best efforts, it would not flush. My creation stared at me, and I proudly stared back. A sense of accomplishment overfilled me and such pride ran through my heart. I created this. I nodded in appreciation and walked away, the most satisfied a man could leave the bathroom. My only remorse lied in the thought of the poor janitor who would have to deal with this. Truly a force to be reckoned with was the dump in the teacup toilet, but I am sure even the janitor would take his hat off in honor to this monster crap. I waved to the woman at the front office and walked out to double doors, knowing that that day would be a truly glorious day.

-Leonardo DeCraprio

Really Crappy Flash Fiction

6 Word Story:
Spicy burrito. Long car ride. Crap.

100 Word Story:
“Bathroom’s occupied?” I asked hurriedly. Dirty looks from the long line outside answered me. Four cups of coffee and gas station sushi rumbling in my belly didn’t like that answer. Trudging to the back of the line, I could see the future before it unfolded. I wouldn’t make it. The line was moving too slowly; my bowels were moving too quickly. As crowded as it was inside, it looked desolate outside. The row of trees behind the parking lot was looking more and more tempting… Before my rectum surrendered to my poop, I surrendered to my shame. Hey, crap happens.

Flash Fiction

Log Blog App

Not too long ago, we at the Log Blog were contacted by someone who admired our work and wanted to introduce himself. We do not get much fan mail at the Log Blog, so this was exciting. As it turns out, the person who contacted us was on an app team working for Chicago-based app developer, Janitor Ltd. When we found out that they had just released a new app titled “LogBlog”, we felt it would be wrong for us not to do a story on them.

“LogBlog” is the first app released by Janitor Ltd. It is an app that links together a community of people to tell their best #2 stories. Recognizing that such an idea could quickly disintegrate into a crass, pointless source of trash, we were happy to discover that this app retains classy feel while still allowing one to relieve stories and experiences about pooping. As for the app itself, navigation is simple between the Roll, Public Log, Me, and News tabs. . Users can push logs to each other and share experiences with the entire community.

One of my favorite things about this app is the mission statement of the team that developed it. Their mission is “to generate donations through bringing awareness to colon cancer and the lack of global sanitation throughout the world.” We thought that it was great to hear about people who took an off-the-wall idea like blogging about pooping and turning it into a way to better society. Portions of the proceeds are donated to helping those afflicted with colon cancer through Janitor, Ltd.

All-in-all, LogBlog is a classy app with a solid purpose. There’s a free version and a version for $0.99, so check it out.

http://logblog.com/