Dianekamikaze Craps In Her Pants

So I just got an email commenting on something I mentioned on the latest edition of DKFM. The Melvins have a new CD out - (A) Senile Animal on Ipecac, & in my backannouncing frenzy I waxed poetic about how great they were live - the last time I saw them was at Maxwell's this past October, and they really were massive, perfect and heavy all at once. A kind listener emailed me to tell me that when he saw the Melvins live he "literally" crapped his pants. This email brought back memories of when I once "literally" crapped in my pants, so here goes...

We are rewinding a bunch of years here. I am walking home from my friend Janet's house after school  on a weekday. It's late fall; not super cold, but I remember wearing a scarf and gloves. The two of us partied like maniacs most of high school (please do NOT forward this blog post to my mom) and were amazed to actually graduate. So this day in the late 70's (there, I said it!) is no different. I'm walking home, skipping home, buzzing home, observing the world around me. Today, I am unusually high and find everything funny. I find myself stopping & staring at the bark of trees, piles of leaves, cool cars & numbers painted on the curb. Yep. I know you remember those days; the days previous to burn out, previous to the bad pot, previous to the really expensive pot. High as a kite, not a care in the world. So I knew I was really stoned, but playing with it; I wasn't hurting anyone & I still remembered how to get home, which was probably a nice 45-minute walk, so everything was peachy.

Oh no! Something is amiss! Terror and dread set in. I am so stoned I have completely lost control of my bowels and have pooped in my pants. At first I am denying the possibility, but the inevitable sets in. I start to walk funny. I am disgusted with myself. There is nothing else for me to do but keep heading home and hope, PRAY that none of it rolls down the leg of my pants or gets squished to something else to make an even bigger mess. Shit, shit, shit! I am an idiot! How could I get SO stoned that I didn't even notice that I crapped in my own pants, argh! The rest of the way home is not so fun. I do not gag, but being in my own presence makes me want to puke. How irresponsible! I start thinking about what a bitch it's going to be to do the laundry. First, my mom is going to end up seeing me and ask me a million questions - that's what I REALLY want to hear. First, I usually avoid her when I'm stoned altogether, and NOW she is going to just go on and on while I am paranoid as hell. Then I'm going to have to scrape the turd out of my underwear and immediately wash my pants. Crikey! I cannot believe what a dope I can be. That's it; I'm never smoking pot again. THIS IS IT! Who the hell do I think I am? What if I had to go to work? I can't just walk into work with a big load in my pants! Jeez. I am changing my lifestyle today. This is too much to bear, the last straw, I am drawing the line right here, right now!

So I arrive home and get past my mother. I go up to my bedroom to grab clean jeans to change into & take off my coat. This is when I realize that the scarf I had been wearing had reconfigured itself into a lumpy mass between my ass cheeks. I had not shat in my pants at all! I was so horrified that I had soiled myself that I was afraid to investigate while walking, so I walked uncomfortably for a good couple of miles. What a dope, how stupid could I be??? But now I have a good story & no dirty pants. I am happy & giggle uncontrollably, and do not stop smoking pot for years. No moral, no lesson, no poop! Looking for the perfect poop gift for someone for the holidays? Search no more! Check out the Pooping Moose here!

Comments

[JT]

I loves you DK.

No worries: I'd already pegged your age. But this story is AWESOME. Can I tell it to my suburban neighbors and pretend it was me?

I once was so stoned I saw a cockroach circling on the edge of a 13th floor elevators record I was listening to (okay, maybe BHS) (I definitely just outed my identity to 5 people who don't give a shit) and on closer inspection, I saw that it *was* a roach - the stub of a marijuana cigarette. You can use that story if you like.

Kisses (hehe - I'm sure you LUV that).

P.S. The Melvins doth rock. I'll be buying their new rec. based on the two tracks you played yesterday. I'm a long-time fan and I'm happy you continue to flog their greatness.

[Max Winston]

WOW!
Man, that is such a damn funny story!
How amazing! I'm suprised you're even willing to share that with the world.
Freaking hilarious!

If I had eaten before I saw the Melvins for the first time, I think I would have crapped meself too. Especially when the played "Brain Center at Whipples", I always remembered what that song sounded like. THankfully without the added poop.

[ResidentClinton]

I actully DID poop my pants once thanks to The Pot. I was in my room by myself, high as a kite, and flipping through a bunch of random blank tapes I found in the thrift store.

One of them had Air Supply's "The One That I Love" on it and I started really getting into the song - singing it out loud and emoting. And then, at a pivotal moment in the chorus, I did a little crouch, "Here I am...". And there it was.

But cut me some slack, I was only...um...30. I have since sworn of drugs and Air Supply. Okay, not really.

[tonesfrommars]

For years now, whenever I go into a record store, particularly used record stores, and spend more than 5 minutes browsing, I suddenly have a strong urge to crap. Moments after leaving the store, it's gone!! Anyone else have this experience? Is it just me? I want to do a study on this. Is it because I make my living as a musician? Is there a subliminal crap-inducing beam they've installed in the store to make people buy more cds? Someone please help me figure this out.

[eBay Wendy]

Diane,

Awesome story. Poop stories are great.

I have one not so fantastic, but bodily-functon-riffic just the same.

Many winters ago, when I was still living in New England, I was down in Jersey visiting my Dad and Step-Mom. I was sitting in the back of their luxury Cadillac, on our way to somewhere or other, when I got the horrifying feeling that I'd peed my pants. I felt this intense warmth beneath me, and I had this sensation of the warmth emanating from my center, pooling and spreading to the edges of my butt, going down my thighs. I panicked. I was so embarrassed. How could this be? I wasn't even stoned. Not even drunk. If anything, a little bored. I was in my mid-20s. Far too young (and old) to have no control over my bladder. How would I tell them? My Dad likes to tease people. Would I have to suffer this moment for years? Did I even bring an extra pair of pants with me for my weekend visit? Sigh... maybe I should have stayed in Vermont...
Then I looked over to the console on the door and realized I'd hit the "seat warmer" button - something my little car didn't have. I'm still laughing about this years later.
True story!
-Wendy

[Business for sale]

I always remembered what that song sounded like!!!!!

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[Elisabeth]

Hilarious story!! Thanks for sharing! I laughed out loud.
Tonesfrommars- my ex and I had that same phenomenon in thrift stores usually based on how good they were (the better ones rating an almost immediate need to go #2). We would rate them as such and decided it was because they made us so excited it affected our stomachs. It seems to happen to my 4 year old now with toy related places.