wreckmanac jumble

The Shit List

Rarely on the Wreckmanac will you find such immature humor, or, if this is popular, you will see more of this. This list was inspired by the children’s book, "Everyone Poops," but written for adults that deal with self inflicted stomach treatments such as jalapeños, black bean burritos, corn, whiskey, beer, beef jerky, fried chicken, ice cream, or any combination there within and et al. The results of these treatments are each unique, and should each be classified within certain parameters not only to honor them, but also to protect us from their wraths. More additions will inevitably pile up, because after all, shit lives forever.

The Vertigo Dump
This one is intense. It’s usually the gift morning gives after a night of eating steak or burgers; anything that backs you up a little. When you wake, you’ll still be tired, partially suffering from a beef hangover, and have to use the can. After your immense discharge, when you stand to wash your hands, you will go dizzy, and come face to face with the Vertigo Dump.

Soft Serve for One
Soft serve is most often associated with ice cream, and for some, like myself, a dairy overload can sometime breed disaster. By that I mean I make Mr. Frosty envious of my work on some days. I might ass well have a shut off lever built in. The Soft Serve gives new meaning to Rocky Road.

Why Cleft?
Some meals just don’t agree with you. It doesn’t have to do with what it is or when you eat it, but more the quality of the food itself. You may catch a bad sandwich (a political standout from the rest of the food) that sits in your stomach like a pack of Dobermans confined to a room with sausage walls, or eat a salad that ends up serving as a broom for your colon; either way, you’ve pooped so many times in the past hour that you could swear your anus is now cleft.

Irish Stout
After a night of stouts, whiskey, potatoes and corned beef, you’re Irish brown eye won’t be smiling at all. The stout wants things to thicken, and while the potatoes agree, the corned beef is muttering something under his drunken breath, and the whiskey is agitating him, egging him on to shout it out and get pissed. Your stomach doesn’t know if it’s going North or South; it just wants peace.

Giver of Life

The experience of giving birth to a child can only be felt by females, but giving birth to an infant turd can be achieved by almost anyone. This baby’s birth usually comes around Holiday time, when gluttony and glee often go hand in hand to a motel room in the bowels. 9 hours later, the contractions start. At first, it’s a stomach ache, then, the call for someone to help take you to the bathroom. It’s too late for an epidermal, but pretty soon, your anus will dilate to ten centimeters, and you will birth a baby and name him Smelly, who will come out crying, of course.

Dog Daze
Sometimes, amidst errands or the daily grind, you may be in public somewhere and be struck with a sudden, pressing need to win a Silver medal (come in #2). Your mind becomes so transfixed upon taking a shit that you become dazed and your butt cheeks clench in a last ditch effort to avoid a public embarrassment. If only you were a dog and could drop a rock on the sidewalk, only to have your owner clean it up.

Tijuana Dance

There aren’t too many other ways to describe the aftermath of eating a plethora of Mexican food (“Would you say I have a “plethora” of piñatas?”). You’ll tango to the toilet, boldly mambo to have a B.M., and do the salsa to shize. Maracas aren’t necessary; your guts will do all the rattling for you.

The Hole Forest

There’s so much poop! There isn’t that much in the toilet, but it seems you just have to keep wiping and wiping and wiping and wiping and wiping, replace the role, then wipe some more; and some more after that, too. And then some more. You just used enough toilet paper to kill a whole rain forest, all thanks to your whole, Forrest.

The Dump and Jump

On some days, toilet paper will do you no good. You were out drinking last night, ate a lot of pizza, did some shots, had some more beers, then some fried chicken, and some wine coolers, because that’s all that was left in the fridge that had alcohol in it. The shit you take the next morning can’t be cleaned by mere paper. You’ll need a scrub brush, steel wool, some pumice soap, rubber gloves, maybe some Novocain, and possibly a pair of tweezers to remove the dingle berries left on your behind from your attempted wiping. The only way to properly clean this mess is to dump and then jump in the shower.

McTurnabout is Foul Play

Mankind’s most familiar friend, fast food, infrequently fails to faithfully fulfill our lascivious longings for lustful lunches, but after all those f’in l’s, the feasts from The Big M often end in frightful, forgettable, loathsome lavatory experiences. Fast food has a tendency to give you the inverse of whatever shitsistency (a measurement taken by volume to determine the consistency of your shit) you possessed prior. If you’ve been drinking, a dose of M.D. (Mickey D’s) prescribed beef injection will set you solid again. It’s the best medicine for an alcohol overdose; an Overhol. However, if you’re feeling fine and stop for a double cheeseburger at an easy on, easy off highway stop, you’ll be pulling in to the next rest stop to pay the tax. Your worst enemy right now is “Next rest stop 47 miles.”

Forget it, it’s Chinatown

MSG is a force with which not to be reckoned for several reasons. Often times, different types of Asian cuisine can ruin one’s day, whether they contain MSG or not. After consuming said cuisine, you may find yourself in the middle of a meeting, explaining market shares and growth, or MSGs, and suddenly feel as though your lunch were Kodō

Drummers banging the walls of your bowels like massive gongs. Then, a Zen like calm engulfs you, and all is well. WAIT! NO! Have to go now! O.K., wait, all is well… Oh God no! Forget it, it’s Chinatown!