It happens every once in a while. I'm in a hurry. Gotta get out of the house and go! But my bag looks pretty large. I take a peek. Damn, it must weigh 3 pounds. Must empty the sucker. Into the bathroom I fly. Unlock, unroll, and hustle it empty. In my haste, the bag bottom flops about. Coating my tallywacker with... output. "Damn it," I exclaim. My wife comes to the door. "Everything OK, honey?" "Oh, I'm fine," I say reassuringly.
To be continued...
Part 2 of: A Different Poop Problem.
"You sure?" she says. "You sound stressed." "I got some shit on my dick," I reply. This revelation is met with stony silence. I hear her mutter as she walks away, "I'll never get near that thing again." No matter, I think. Looking around, I realize in my rush, I forgot to move the paper towels near the toilet. So I grab some toilet paper and succeed in smearing the poop even more. I get up and waddle over to grab the paper towels. And discover, horrors... I have poop all over my hands too. I'm thinking dark thoughts as I return to the throne. Another day in the life. "Gotta be tough to be an ostomate."
Why Join MeetAnOstoMate?
First off, this is a pretty cool site with 33,605 members. Get inside and you will see.
It's not all about ostomy. Everything is being discussed.
Many come here for advice or to give advice 🗣, others have found good friends 🤗, and there are also those who have found love 💓. Most of all, people are honest and truly care.
Privacy is very important - the website has many features that are only visible to members.
Create an account and you will be amazed.
Laughed out loud at this one... It has only happened to me once in the middle of the night while I was still half asleep - since I don't have a "tallywhacker," it ended up on the bathroom floor, requiring me to do a "clean-up on aisle 4."