"I've been taking a shit on the floor, lately. A beautiful broadloom rug. It's not so bad, and it sure leaves a stain, but it comes out with a little elbow grease, piss, and vinegar. It's very freeing to be able to roll my buttocks off the couch and dispense a turd without having to wait for a commercial break."
"Why am I releasing my bowels onto the living room rug? I'll tell you, my friend."
"A week and a half ago I took a big ass dump in my toilet, and it fucking clogged, and clogged good. I tried to plunge the mother fucker with no success, so I let it sit a while to soften in its own juices. Big mistake. Now it's been clogged for a week and the pot is full to the brim with a pungent brown stew whose foul rank is so thick it's almost visible. I could barely walk into the bathroom without retching. I took a deep breath and tried to plunge that shit outta there, but some of that vile colonic brew spilled out and soaked my shoes. Fuck! Toilet one, Charlie zero."
"A day or two after that, I tried to use some Drano. I figured it'd burn that obstructive feces clean through. Unfortunately, the putrifying shit reacted with the chemicals and formed a half-solid lump of diarrhetic hydroxide. I had to open all the windows to be able to fucking breathe! The paint in the bathroom is peeling, and I fear for the structural integrity of the toilet - my only hope is that it will contain this filth."
"I'm not proud of my plight, but I am, in a sense, my own damn victim."