This HILARIOUS post is brought to you by Quilted Northern Soft + Strong. Thanks Quilted Northern! More on that below.
Do not even try to give me dog training advice. Seriously. It’s not worth it. Just watch my tale of woe. And laugh at my expense.
So here’s something cool: If you tell me your own funny story around bathroom behavior–any kind of funny story at all–I’m going to draw one winner at random and these things will happen:
1. I’ll post the funny story here with a link back to your blog
2. You will win a $50 Visa Gift Card to help make your bathroom a prettier place.
3. You will win a year’s supply of Quilted Northern toilet paper, who is graciously sponsoring this contest and my blog and gets a big thumbs up for that. No one ever wants to sponsor this blog! What in God’s name are they thinking? I don’t know, but who am I to look a gift toilet paper in the mouth?
Oh, here’s one other thing: If you don’t need a year’s supply of toilet paper (who knows – maybe you use these things) you could also donate your supply to a local women’s shelter, your public school, or a place that really needs it. (One of the things I like about Quilted Northern is their commitment to increasing sustainability, and to corporate responsibility with support for orgs like Susan G Komen.)
You can also join the conversation on Facebook.com/QuiltedNorthern; on Twitter @QuiltedNorthern which is giving away more free stuff; or on You Tube (where they seriously need the help of some funny bloggers) to help make the taboo talkable.
Funny bathroom behavior story? Video (I used Animoto) or comment. You’ve got until midnight Weds November 3.
Congrats to Bill of Daddy Is Tired! Random.org likes you, and so do I. The winning story:
- My daughter was having sleep issues which included too many visits to the bathroom, and we had let her know in no uncertain terms that we were tired of it (because it was waking us up too). Anyway, after weeks of this, one night she woke us up by yelling her usual “I NEED TO TELL YOU SOMETHING!” over and over.We finally went downstairs and found her in the bathroom. “I’m out of toilet paper.””Why didn’t you just say that,” we asked.”Because I didn’t want you to know I was in the bathroom.”*sigh*
34 thoughts on “A funny thing happened on the way to the bathroom…”
I feel your pain. Our dog used to leave puddles everywhere. Age-related leaking, though, not generalized Not-Getting-The-Whole-House-Training-Thing thing. We have finally found the right combination of drugs to keep her and the house from floating away in a river of urine.
This is the best I can do for video funny: http://ittybit.blogspot.com/2010/07/nickel-tour.html
My family went out to a restaurant a few years back with my aging grandfather. He excused himself to use the restroom. Not long after, I caught him standing outside the restrooms. Just standing there.
I asked him what was wrong, and he said, “I'm waiting in line.” Sure enough, not far from him was a cardboard cutout of a man.
I tried not to laugh or even alert him to his mistake. “Oh… he's not waiting,” I said, and ushered Grandpa toward the bathroom.
Then… when he returned from the bathroom, he shouted to our table at large, “Man, is that thing huge!”
Of course, he was talking about the bathroom, but you can see how it sounded like he meant something else… 🙂
No shit, as I was reading this post, my son put both hands on the table, grunted and turned red, then looked up at me and giggled, “I poop again!”
Oh, and then he patted his rear end and commented, “Stinky!”
I think I'd rather have bathroom puddles courtesy of Emily.
I would love a year's supply of TP! But, I've got nowwhere to put it.
This seems so unlike you. Then again, confounding people is a good thing.
I haven't any stories. My brother & sister once wouldn't let our mother out of a hotel bathroom that she'd accidentally locked herself in. They were too hysterical laughing to help her.
I have a good story but it is really too long for a comment. You can find it here.
If you prefer that people not provide links off site just delete my comment.
I wouldn't classify this as behaviour as it was (thankfully) a one-off-… but one time when I was skiing, the door to the cubicle wouldn't shut properly. There was a huge line of women waiting (of course!), so I couldn't really wait for another cubicle to be free, so I just pushed the door shut as best I could, peeled down my many layers of clothing and sat down. I don't know why, but about halfway through peeing, I decided I really wanted that door shut, so I leaned forward and pushed on it as hard as I could. Only it was an outward opening door. I flew off the toilet seat and half-way out the door, bulky clothes around my ankles – including purple-and-green striped long underwear – right in front of the entire queue, which was lined up directly in front of the cubicles. Lucky it was pre-kids so I had at least been able to stop peeing.
Writing this reminds me though that I did used to have a toilet door behaviour … where after a few too many drinks, I'd forget to lock the door, then when it was time to leave, I'd “unlock” the door, only really I was locking it, and then I'd have a moment of panic at not being able to open the door.
Hmmm, my best bathroom story, has nothing to do with pee. It's still okay right?
When Bailey was about 22 months old, I got this great new camera. A digital Canon, 5 whole mega pixels. I was in camera heaven. I kept calling it my new toy. I should have been more careful about where I put my new toy. One day, I was making dinner and it was quiet. I figure it was because my (then) husband and older kid weren't home. Man one kid is easy and quiet. How nice!
After awhile it got too quite. I realized it had been awhile since I'd heard my precious little girl make a sound. I went looking for her.
Found her in the bathroom. She had my new toy. I am pretty sure I yelled something that should only be yelled in a car. My Warshing it, mama. Yep, that's what she told me. As she washed my brand new camera with soap in the sink. Helpful little thing.
I don't really have a bathroom story but wanted to say the video was SO cute, and I can totally relate – I'm really bad at training dogs!
My daughter was having sleep issues which included too many visits to the bathroom, and we had let her know in no uncertain terms that we were tired of it (because it was waking us up too).
Anyway, after weeks of this, one night she woke us up by yelling her usual “I NEED TO TELL YOU SOMETHING!” over and over.
We finally went downstairs and found her in the bathroom.
“I'm out of toilet paper.”
“Why didn't you just say that,” we asked.
“Because I didn't want you to know I was in the bathroom.”
The Case of the Red Stool*.
*By reading further, you acknowledge that there may be Too Much Information included herein:
Tuesday was my husband's birthday and I offered to make him a meal of his request for dinner. He asked for steak and potatoes. We had a few potatoes on hand, but we also had turnips, beets, yams, and some funky orange and purple carrots, thanks to our weekly Organic Veggie Delivery. I decided to make a Roasted Root Vegetable Melange. It turned out yummy. The whole dinner was yummy! A fantastic time was had by all. Happy Birthday, Honey!
But the next morning I was slightly perturbed to find that my Daily Constitutional was…abnormal. By abnormal I mean RED. By RED I mean the color you do not want to see in your toilet.
But I did not panic. I did not freak out. I grew up with parents in medicine after all, and am by now quite used to being told “You're fine!” (even when I had meningitis in the 6th grade–I haven't forgotten that, folks!). I told myself I would investigate the matter further. By, you know, watching and waiting. And, ummm, googling.
Googling? I couldn't very well Google about “Red bowel movements” on my work computer, now could I? These are the things CSIs discover post mortem! And for all I know, maybe even Tech Guys can see me searching “Red stool” while I live and breathe.
No, I decided, I would have to be more clever than that. And anyway, I had a sneaking suspicion about my condition…
Furtively, hopefully, I typed “eating beets” into my Google search bar. I did not even push the “Search” button when the Google Gods read my mind helpfully and offered the following list of options on a drop-down menu:
eating beets stool
eating beets red urine
eating beets urine
eating beets raw
eating beets during pregnancy
eating beets red poop
eating beets turns urine red
eating beets and red stool
eating beets while pregnant
It doesn't take a genius in reading between the lines to discern that it was the beets causing the crimson in my crap.
More relief: I don't think that typing “eating beets” without pushing “search” actually counted AS A SEARCH. I am not sure of this.
But here's what I do know: I am going to eat the leftover beets and potatoes for lunch tomorrow. And when the inevitable happens, I won't have to Google shit.
Because I already know.
When I was in college, friends and I had went out and I had gotten, shall we say…very very drunk. Afterwards, we went to Denny's for a super late night meal (cliche, right?)
As we were sitting there, waiting for our food, I started feeling sick. I quietly excused myself and went to the ladies room. It was empty, much to my relief, and so I threw up, washed my face and went to leave the bathroom to rejoin my friends.
The door was locked. And I was inside the Denny's bathroom.
I thought to myself, well, it was open when I came in, it must only be locked from the inside, so I just have to wait for someone else to come in and then I can get out.
I filled the time with pacing, I washed my hands a couple more times and hummed some songs to myself.
No one had come into the bathroom.
Finally, after about 15 minutes, I went to try the door again, in case it had miraculously been unlocked.
That was when I noticed there were two doors. The one I'd previously been trying to get OUT of was really just the supply closet, that was, of course, locked.
I left the bathroom and rejoined my friends and never told anyone what had happened until many years later.
Potty training of my 3.5 year old has been, um, let's just say non-linear.
One day, when I was trying to get her to sit on the potty before she peed her pants AGAIN, she looked at me and said:
“The pee doesn't want to come out now. He's having his dinner.”
Where do you with that as a parent? I tried to convince her that he was done with his dinner and wanted to come out for some dessert…..
My mom was putting my five year old to bed and they were in the bathroom. After my son finished on the toilet, he stands up and bends over and starts talking to my mom, upside down and through his legs. He asks her “Is my butt clean?” My mom was a bit taken aback.
My husband read that if you ate a lot of black licorice you would have green poop…we had to try. He ate enough- I didn't.
One day, my little boy, Wyatt, told me he had to go “poo-poo.” As we all do, I rushed the little guy to the potty and let him sit there. I waited, and waited, and waited. Then I waited some more. Out of patience, I said, “Wyatt, you told me had to go poo-poo. Were you mistaken?” He adamantly insisted, “I'm not mistaken! I'm PRECIOUS!”
Since I just finished potty training my 2 year old, I'm spending more time blocking bathroom stories from my memory than trying to recall funny ones. However, I could definitely use a year's supply of TP…This isn't that funny, but those of you with toddlers can relate- Yesterday, as I was walking home from lunch with my toddler, he announced he had to poop. So I rushed him to the nearest restaurant, ran in, and set him on the pot. Once there, he said he no longer needed to go. So I tried to force him (now THAT's funny, right?) to no avail. We lest, got halfway down the block, and once again, he announced his need to go. We rushed to the next restaurant, and had a repeat of the last one. I had to hide my frustration, pulled up his pants, and left. Guess what happened 2 more times before we went home? I had to take every time seriously, for fear of the possible outcome…and he waited until we got home to actually poop.
My nephews used to call their penises “doolies”. Don't know why, I think it was from a babysitter. So, Beans was very thin and when he sat on the toilet, he had to hold himself on so he didn't fall in. Once, I was there when he was trying to poop and he realized he had to pee too. If he held his penis, he would fall in so he yelled “Aunt Sheya, hold my doolie!”
Liz, first – Thalia, priceless.
Ok, bathroom story, I can't possibly regenerate it now as well as I did an hour after it happened and I'm attempting my first shot at an html link in a comment, so hope it works, or you will probably see another comment from me with the link.
Do the words tub pooper sound familiar to anyone?
It didn't happen in the bathroom, but I think it still counts….
So today my 15-month-old daughter is crying in the kitchen. I go to pick her up and notice that she has removed her diaper. The first bad omen…
I pick her up, and she had pooped on the floor! After a moment of omg, what do I do!?!? Is this going to stick to me!?!? I proceed to her bedroom change table and clean her up.
How could things get worse, you ask?
Well, I go back to the kitchen to clean the poop off the floor, and it is gone!
THE DOG ATE IT!
And, yup, this is the pooch I have called Poopy Puppy for the last 6 years. He really earned that nickname today.
Ew. Ew. Ew.
This happened over 30 (!!) years ago but when I was a young and innocent cheerleader, I ran out onto the gym floor after a bathroom break. Yep, you guessed it-cheerleader skirt tucked into my kickpants-which were really just black brief underwear. Good times!
We're in the process of toilet-training our 2-year-old, and he wasn't wearing a diaper. My (older, childless) boss came over one day for a meeting, and as things were winding down my toddler came and sat on my lap. And when I picked him up and shifted him, I saw some poo on my pants.
The kid had just pooped on the carpet and then come over to say hi. Once my boss realized what had happened, she said, “Well, I think that's my cue to leave then!” and hightailed it out of there.
I have since learned that my child must absolutely wear pants when we have guests. Yay for being a work at home mom?
It just occurred to me that I actually have a relevant photo post up RIGHT NOW. By pure coincidence, since I posted it before I saw this. But I give you… the doggy W.C., as seen in Macau.
I think the dog totally makes the photo. (Photo credit to my husband.)
Love your dog's protruding bottom tooth! I'd also love me some Quilted Northern. I'm a total t.p. hoarder–I mean stock piler–I mean, I just like to be prepared.
When my son was learning to use the potty, he had a thing about not wanting to stand up to go. (maybe it had something to do with the fact that his boy parts didn't even reach the toilet) So when we went out, I'd carry my fab new folding kiddie toilet seat that was adorned with all his favorite friends from Sesame Street.
One night we were out at a restaurant and he announced he had to pee. So we dashed in there, folding toilet topper in hand, and got to work assembling his throne. I finally set his buns down on the magical folding seat, and it proceeded to fold itself up and plunge into the bowl. Good thing I was holding on to my son.
Then came the part when I had to retrieve it. Fortunately, I had a couple things in my favor. 1.) One corner of it remained dry and reachable and 2.) We were in a large stall that contained a garbage can. No running through the restroom carting a dripping Elmo and Big Bird accoutrement.
Needless to say, he began standing up to pee after that. He just stood on my feet to close the gap between his parts and the bowl!
I have an almost 2-year-old that is OBSESSED with pulling out all the toilet paper on a roll. If she ever finds herself in a bathroom for a few seconds, she maniacally starts pulling the toilet paper, because she knows we are going to stop her. She kinda scares me.
My 3 year old and I were in the bathroom at the gym getting ready to go swimming. She stared in awe as a woman took off her pants. Embarrassed, I said, 'Come on Olivia, let's go swimming.' In her loudest voice, she replied, 'Wait mommy, I want to look at this woman's vagina.'
Ah, 3 year olds…So much for teaching anatomically correct names for body parts.
One day last winter my husband looked outside and noticed our dog was holding and chewing on an ice covered stick – not that abnormal, he does it all the time.
When said dog came in the house, carrying the stick, he left muddy footprints all over – again, not that abnormal, he has hairy feet.
So my husband got out the cleaning supplies and started cleaning the carpets and noticed that these footprints didn't quite smell or look like mud. Husband went over to inspect the stick and noticed that it was frozen dog poo! Guess our dog felt like a poopsicle.
My first pregnancy happened to coincide with the adoption of a puppy which might explain why I was using the term elimination here??
With three boys, I have a plethora of potty stories, let me tell you…
But, to keep things short and sweet, let me just mention that my 5 year old son?
Has to completely disrobe in order to go #2. Even his socks come off.
Every. Single. Time.
(I haven't dared to ask his kindergarten teacher if he does this in school.)
don't really have a funny bathroom story. i almost killed myself decapitating a GIGANTIC “water bug” in the shower the other night. I hate the south…
but, when you win and you have scads and scads of toilet paper rolls, you can work on perfecting your paper sculture skills!
This so sooo ancient history and yet it still haunts me:
In the summer after 8th grade I got to go on a whirlwind trip of the DC area-we saw so much stuff I can barely remember. Anyway-it was so damn humid in June that you pretty much sweated through your shirt within 15 minutes of putting it on (I'm from Oregon-I don't do humid. Especially in June where it's generally still in the 60s here-summer doesn't start until after the 4th of July).
So-the last day of the trip we went to the zoo and the ONLY clean top I had was a lightweight sweater. I nearly passed out from the heat. After the zoo-we went straight to the airport. I couldn't stand it any longer and right before i checked my bag I grabbed the least offensive smelling t-shirt and was going to change except they kept herding us through the airport and right onto the plane.
As soon as we were all settled into our seats I headed to the restroom to change. While I was in there-an alarm sounded and the lights went off. I was mid change and dropped both shirts. I finished changing but couldn't open the bathroom door. I kept pounding on it until finally an attendant opened it. Apparently they had evacuated the plane and the doors opened and blocked the bathroom doors.
The plane is empty and there was evidently a panic as to where I was. When I find my group and get yelled at (like this was MY fault?) someone points at my shirt and asks “what's that blue stuff all over your shirt?”
Apparently my shirt had fallen in the toilet. I was so embarrassed and everyone figured out what had happened and laughed while i insisted the shirt was already like that (yeah, right!) I hadn't learned how to laugh at myself yet . . .
There are a lot of good bathroom stories!
My story has nothing to do with excrement and is all about excitement.
Before we were married, my fiance (now husband) decided that it would be a good idea to propose to me. I was in the bathroom getting ready for Christmas Eve dinner with his family. So now, when people ask how he proposed, I get to tell them he did it while I was on the crapper. 🙂
My sister in law caught this moment on video. The voice you hear is my brother in law, Tracy, singing while on the toilet on a Sunday morning before church. Clearly he was “in the spirit.”
My daughter is in the midst of potty training. She is two and a half and knows what to do but just chooses not to. In general, I'm not pushing it (since all the “experts” tell me not to) . But lately I have been pushing just a little, because c'mon already! So today, I went to the potty and came out and said, “You know what I just did, honey? I did poo poo on the potty.” She looked at me and smiled and said, “Yay! You did it! Good job!”
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