Posts Tagged ‘Kids’

Brotip #1735 – Answering a Toy Phone

April 23, 2012 1 comment

Let me give you a tip from a brand new parent of two little boys (coming direct from 

That is about as true as a statement as you’ll ever read – here on He Shat She Shat or anywhere else.  If you are the kind of male that won’t play pretend with your kid when he/she hands you a toy phone, you can go ahead and consider yourself a sucky parent.  Period.  If you are that person, there is still hope for you – but it is going to require that you don’t be such a piece of crap and learn to actually care about something other than yourself.  You up for the challenge?

Please Adopt the Mercy Flush

February 15, 2012 4 comments

You remember wrestling with your older brother or muscularly blessed friend and getting pinned in some sort of unruly headlock?  I do..  Weighing in at a whopping 125 pounds when I graduated from high school (6′ 2″ tall), I was used to getting worked in any physical contact activity.  There would come a point when the discomfort would turn to pain and eventually I would have to cry uncle, moments before crying or passing out.  Despite any desire to avoid any loss of boyish pride, the pain was too much and you had to call for mercy.
Well…I wish there was an equivalent in the men’s bathroom.  Just the other day I experienced something that has been all too common in my public bathroom experiences.  I had just sat down for a morning dig when another coworker walked in, and annoyingly, took the stall right next to mine, despite there being a free stall two down.  Fine, whatever.  But then he began what can only be compared to the scene in Dumb and Dumber when Harry falls victim to Lloyd’s shot of Ex-lax.  I could literally hear the splattering of fecal matter as it caked the entire bowl with shards of diarrhea.  This continued for several minutes, followed by a stench of death that covered the entire bathroom with a black (green?) shroud.  I plugged my nose and breathed through my mouth, but then I started to taste it so that had to stop.
The smell wouldn’t die.  I still had one more log to push out, but I had to give up, wipe and leave.  If ONLY I could have cried uncle or mercy (anything!) so that the person would know to lean forward and let the automatic flush carry away the stench bomb.  Yes, I’m talking about the mercy flush! But alas, uncle doesn’t work in the bathroom – especially the work bathroom.  So I held my breath and ran for my life, returning an hour later to finish the job.

Adventures in Baby Sh*tting!

October 20, 2011 2 comments

Having a baby is no joke, no joke at all. It literally is the ultimate game changer in the course of human life. College, employment, puberty…nothing will alter the course of your life and daily activities like having children. This is not said in any negative tone, rather it is merely factual. One of the greatest examples of how it changes you is the level of which you are willing to smell, clean, and touch fecal matter.

It is no secret that babies poop, and poop a lot. They poop with such frequency and vigor that it truly can blow your mind. It always amazes me the quantity of crap something so small can produce with such minimal intake. But they DO! Babies are miracle workers! But with that miracle comes one of the greatest game changers of them all…the Blow Out (Brown Out).

Scenario A: we were visiting a high-end fashion store – just for kicks and giggles. No real intent to purchase, just a natural curiosity as we trolled the mall one afternoon. As my wife examined some jewelry that was way out of our price range, my parenting bell went off in my head. Something wasn’t right. I looked down to examine our son, only to observe SH*T dripping down my arm, leg and all over the designer carpet in the store. Not only that, but I found clumps of it in different areas of the store as apparently the act had occurred near the bracelets.

Like any white trash parent, we charged towards the bathroom and I stripped down to nudity and washed my and my sons clothes in the sink. My wife and I stayed in there as long as we could…trying to determine how to save any dignity we had left. We decided to screw it and run for it. We ran out the bathroom, son in diaper and me soaking wet and screamed our apologies as we charged out the store. We had just enough time to observe the manager on hands and knees scrubbing crap out of the fibers beneath him.

So if you are going to have kids, I recommend you prepare to get your hands dirty!