Shit Stories Part XV: Ass Sweat

Generally speaking, ass sweat isn’t that bad. As far as I’m aware, it doesn’t actually smell so I consider it “clean sweat”. For the record, I’ve never actually tried to smell ass sweat up close so I don’t actually know that it doesn’t stink, but I know that it doesn’t stink from a safe distance. At worst, ass sweat is just a bit embarrassing when I sit down after a long day of sports and the sweat pools on the seat and an ass imprint of sweat is revealed when I stand up.

 

Well… that was the worst ass sweat can do outside of a shit story. The realm of shit stories is a whole other world. We all know that shit is disgusting and we all try to pretend like we’ve never touched shit before. But let’s be honest here, most of us have probably touched shit before, hopefully by accident. If you haven’t touched shit, you haven’t lived life. For me, it happens when I take an untamed shit and it seems to have splattered around my asshole quite a bit and I accidentally smear some on my hand when I wipe. It’s nasty, but it’s not a big deal because I get to clean it off right away. This happens often enough that whenever I wipe my ass and feel my hand-skin touching something wet, I expect to see shit on my hand when I un-reach it from my ass. Just prior to writing this, I was taking a shit, felt something wet as I wiped, and feared the worst. Turns out it was just ass sweat so don’t worry about any shit particle transferring from my hand to my keyboard, through the internet, and into your eyes.

That’s it for the shit story. My plan to start a podcast is still on track so keep an eye and ear out for that. Hopefully I’ll have something up in a week but I’ll definitely have something up in two weeks by the latest.

Advertisements

Shit Stories Part XIII: The Return of Black Diarrhea

I haven’t written a shit story for a while. Since I can only take so many shits a day, I have to reach the bottom of the shit barrel to find shit to write about. At long last, I present to you, a new shit story. Please excuse me if it’s more gross than funny but the sexy girls with captions should hopefully compensate for what my shits lack in humor.

B-but I don't want to be the face of a shit story...

B-but I don’t want to be the face of a shit story…

So I just had diarrhea, a blackish one I guess. If I didn’t have black diarrhea in my mind from writing the blog, I might not have called this one black. So anyway, I excreted it and flushed the toilet, just a normal black diarrhea routine.

Routine... as if it happens regularly like a shower... But what do I know about routines. I can't even remember to remove my underwear.

Routine… as if it happens regularly like a shower… But what do I know about routines. I can’t even remember to remove my underwear.

A few minutes passed and my brother entered the bathroom. I heard him yell “GROSS!”. I can only surmise that some of the black diarrhea had come back from the pipes. I should be ashamed, but instead, I laughed. I’m more ashamed for laughing than the shit itself.

Try smirking instead. You'll feel less shame.

Try smirking instead. You’ll feel less shame.

We don’t learn life lessons everyday so I should be thankful for learning one today. From now on, I shall always check to see if my shit flushes, especially if it’s (black) diarrhea. I hope you readers can learn from my shitty mistakes too.

What an education read! Next time I won't have to come to this colorful field to hide my diarrhea.

What an education read! Next time I won’t have to come to this colorful field to hide my diarrhea.

Shit Stories Part XII

There are some words that just sound funny together, like anal leakage. Unfortunately, I don’t actually have a story about that. The closest thing I can think of is still just hypothetical. In Shit Stories Part V, I mentioned that I had wiped some blood from my asshole. I haven’t wiped any more blood since, but if I did, then I would’ve needed to consider using tampons.

I'm high as a kite and have no idea wtf I just read.

I’m high as a kite and have no idea wtf I just read.

The only productive thing I’ve been doing all week is writing these shit stories and this isn’t even productive at all. It’s sad that I actually fantasized about getting laid from these shit stories. There’s 0% chance of that happening and it’s still the closest I’ve ever been to getting laid.

Ted knows as little about sex as we do about basketball.

Ted knows as little about sex as we do about basketball.

There wasn’t really much of a shit story this time. I just wanted to use some more of these pictures since I spent so much time downloading them. Anyway, it’s past midnight and my whole family’s asleep so I shall proceed to use this freedom to entertain myself, feel shitty for several minutes, then entertain myself again.

That's how Ted's going to look when he's waiting his several minutes.

That’s how Ted’s going to look when he’s waiting his several minutes.

Shit Stories Part XI: Anal Pleasures

Congratulations. My asshole hair got 10 likes so I will now be adding pictures of pretty girls to all my shit stories. I have also gone back and retroactively added them to all previous shit stories. I spent a lot of time on these so you should revisit them and appreciate all my hard work. Let me help you. https://tedgaming.wordpress.com/category/shit-stories/ And don’t forget the older ones too. https://tedgaming.wordpress.com/category/shit-stories/page/2/

Like a good book, I can read these shit stories again and again.

Like a good book, I can read these shit stories again and again.


Okay, anal pleasures. The more homophobic readers might think this is gay; but it’s not. There are sensitive nerve endings in our assholes that give us pleasure when stimulated. That is a fact. That is why taking a good healthy shit feels wonderful. It’s the way our bodies have evolved to encourage us to get rid of waste instead of keeping it in the body. The thicker and longer the shit, the better it feels. Read: Phallic objects feel good in our asses. That said, it’s only gay when you put an actual dick in there.

Wink.

Wink.

I haven’t fingered my ass yet so this isn’t a post-justification; it’s a pre-justification. I’m still waiting to get 100 likes here. Once I get 100 likes, I will do it as promised. I need these arbitrary rules in my life. Even though I still can’t blame anyone but myself if things go wrong, at least I know there will be people who gets a laugh out of it. With all my recent anal talk and my discussion with MrJohnson about fleshlights in the comment section here, I’m turning into quite a sex-freak and shit-monger. Living with my parents, I don’t have many places I can hide a fleshlight but I just thought of a brilliant place for it. Now I just need someone to send me a fleshlight so I can make some delightful pictures for the internet to see. Sponsors are welcomed. Come on, sex toy shops, are you reading this?

C'mon sponsors. Please?

C’mon sponsors. Please?

As a tech savvy person, I always joked that it would be funny if I ran a porn site because of what I have to say at family gatherings when people ask me what I do. Now it will be even funnier if I get sponsored to play with and blog about sex toys.

Your family will forever avoid eye contact like I'm doing right now.

Your family will forever avoid eye contact like I’m doing right now.

Shit Stories Part X: Where Exactly Is My Asshole?

That is a question I ask myself every time I wipe my ass. I want to know this so that I can clean my asshole more effectively. I know where the crack is, that’s obvious, and I know the 5 inch diameter from which I wipe shit. However, I do not know the exact location of my asshole. I could find out by poking around until my finger goes into me but I don’t really want to do that. But if I don’t want to stick my finger in my ass, how would pinpointing the location of my asshole help me clean it better?

You got it down to 5 inches? Lucky.

You got it down to 5 inches? Lucky.

I haven’t poked around my ass too much but if I were to do it, I think I would need to poke upwards, at around 45 degrees. I think that’s the direction that leads inside me. I would be poking upwards as opposed to poking horizontally because that would just be poking where my vagina would be if I were a girl. It’s weird to analyze and write about (and read about) the finer details of an asshole.

45 degrees. Like this.

45 degrees. Like this.

A lot of guys wouldn’t want anything to poke around their assholes because they fear that it might feel gay to have something go up their ass. I’m actually not afraid of the gay part. In fact, writing this blog is actually giving me an urge to try it out. The main thing that’s stopping me is sanitation (or sanity). I don’t want to use my finger because I don’t want to get shit on it. I don’t know how much shit is in a passive asshole and I’m not about to find out with my own naked finger. I don’t want to use disposable gloves because I’m THAT cheap, even though it’s only a couple cents. And I don’t want to use any of my household tools because it would get tainted for life.

Do you want to borrow the vines from my house?

Do you want to borrow the vines from my house?

…Umm… the more I’m writing about this, the more I’m actually curious about fingering my own ass. I shall give strangers on the internet power over my life. If this entry gets more than 100 likes, I will finger my own ass. If it turns out to be a terrible experience, I will have hilarious new material to write about. Even if I don’t get 100 likes, I would probably do it if I read a very convincing testimony. If it turns out that I like it and I don’t have anything funny to say, well, you will have made my shitty life a little better… and gayer. It’s a win-win.

You should try two fingers.

You should try two fingers.

Shit Stories Part IX: Shit Adjacent and Tangent Stories

Foreword: In this entry, I didn’t transition between my thoughts very well. All these thoughts are interesting, tangental, and related so I want to keep them all together. But at the same time, I don’t want to clog it up with more sentences just for the sake of transitioning between thoughts without adding any additional content. …Okay, that was a lie, I’m just too lazy to put in the time to turn this shit story into a masterfully written shit story. Plus, I didn’t get any sleep and wrote about shit all night while having chocolate milk diarrhea so give me a break, alright?

Am I dozing off or just staring at my boobs? Why not both? Oh shit, I stole Ted's line.

Am I dozing off or just staring at my boobs? Why not both? Oh shit, I stole Ted’s line.

Some of you might wonder what the heck “shit adjacent” even means. I don’t mean it literally because the story doesn’t involve me standing next to a piece of shit or anything. In fact, there’s no actual shit in the story. It’s like when you’re taking a shit and you’re mentally prepared for shit to appear but you can’t push anything out. That is the analogy I have chosen. I chose a shitting analogy to describe my shit story. Actually, it’s not even an analogy because that’s basically the whole story, told in the guise of an analogy.

I am also shit adjacent.

I am also shit adjacent.

As a guy, I follow the convention that I should pee standing up. So when I falsely think that I need to shit and I’m s(h)itting but nothing comes out, I have to try really hard to squeeze some shit out and if nothing comes out in the end, I feel a bit of shame for having peed sitting down. That is some fucked up retarded emotions. I know that intellectually but it doesn’t stop me from feeling this way. Feelings are so gay. And by gay, I mean retarded. Which one is more offensive? “Why not write both?” – me. (…Everything I write is in my word so I wonder why I bothered quoting myself…)

And I'm ashamed of peeing while standing. Wait. Why am I taking a picture of this?

And I’m ashamed of peeing while standing. Wait. Why am I taking a picture of this?

That last section is interesting to me. I’m obviously aware that I am potentially offending a lot of people but I wrote it anyway. Why? Because it’s funny to me. I only wrote it because I found it funny and I chose not to censor my comedy. But what makes it so funny? It’s funny because of how easily I can offend so many groups of people. If people didn’t get offended by this stuff, it wouldn’t have been funny to me and I wouldn’t have written it, thus, not having created anything for them to be offended by. Ironically, it’s because they DO get offended that there’s more of this stuff to offend them.

Let me put on my "nerd" glasses and smile and pretend I understood what you just read.

Let me put on my “nerd” glasses and smile and pretend I understood what you just read.

Girls living with guys often complain about them not putting the seat back down. I wonder why I never hear complaints about guys not lifting the seats up at all and peeing all over the seat. There’s no way this never happened. I guess people just generally don’t talk about shit and piss as casually as I do. Where’s our thanks for not peeing all over the seat? Even if we end up peeing all over the floor, at least you’re not sitting in our urine. I also never hear guys complaining about girls always leaving the seat down. Mathematically speaking, the guy would’ve lifted the seat up as many times as the girl had to put the seat down. She may complain about having accidentally sat in the bowl with no seat, maybe even touching some CLEAN toilet water, but that’s not the same as peeing on the seat (because our urethra is set to shower setting) and having to clean up the urine. You also never hear about a guy who sat in the bowl without the seat. It would seem that guys are conditioned to always check the seat status with every toilet visit where girls have a problem of assuming it’s down.

Stop complaining about the seat you guys. Do you want to pee in snow instead?

Stop complaining about the seat you guys. Do you want to pee in snow instead?

So many hypothetical girlfriends have left me for being thoughtless and counter nagging them. It’s thoughts like these that keep me in the single and virgin statuses. To continue counter nagging my hypothetical girlfriend, I’m actually not thoughtless at all as evidenced by the amount of thought put into this blog.

 I'm one of those hypothetical girlfriends. I'm so hypothetical that I don't even have a head.


I’m one of those hypothetical girlfriends. I’m so hypothetical that I don’t even have a head.

Shit Stories Part VIII: Asshole Hair

Finally, the asshole hair story has arrived. …Actually I take that back. I’m going to delay that story a little more… I hope I’m not inadvertently hyping up that story too much.

Delayed again?

Delayed again?

(edited) I’m often amazed at how young pretty girls (like this one http://acaffeinatedbrunette.com/about/) actually appreciates my shit humor. Too bad that the closest I ever get to these girls is over the safe distant gap of the internet. The thought of a pretty girl laughing at my shit and gaping hairy asshole is a bittersweet image. I should post pictures of gorgeous girls in my Shit Stories to create a wonderful contrast of imagery.

I'm a pretty girl too, right?

I’m a pretty girl too, right?

Hmm… That’s actually not a bad idea. I should post random pictures of pretty girls to my shit stories just for a laugh. It’s hilarious because it subliminally associates these pretty girls to my shit stories. If 10 people likes this entry, I’ll make it happen.

Because of this stupid context I got mixed up in, now it looks like I've having an accident.

Because of this stupid context I got mixed up in, now it looks like I’ve having an accident.

Finally, for real this time: Asshole Hair. I’m asian and don’t have body hair for the most part so it freaks me out to know that I have hair in a place as disgusting as my asshole. Because I can’t actually see it, I have some denial of its existence. Maybe I’m too smart for my own good because I can’t fool myself and I know it’s there. I know it’s real because I can feel it when I scrub my asshole during showers.

I'm asian and scrubbing my hair too. I'm talking about the other hand you can't see.

I’m asian and scrubbing my hair too. I’m talking about the other hand you can’t see.

I’ve been paying more attention to my shits lately to gather material for this blog. (It’s sad that this is what my life has become… a shit blogger…) I was thinking about my asshole hair one day and realized something disgusting about it. When I shit, those asshole hairs are bound to get smeared with fecal matter. And when I wipe, because I’m not wiping each strand of asshole hair individually, there’s no way they’re clean. Does this mean I spend most of my days with traces of shit in my pants? Since I’m not the only one with asshole hair, that means most people are walking around with shit in their pants. For sanitary reasons, I want to get rid of those hairs but there’s no way I can do that on my own; it’s a recipe for a comedic disaster. Maybe I need to pay someone to trim my asshole hair. I feel sorry for whoever has that job.

Does that... does that mean I have shit in my pants too? =(

Does that… does that mean I have shit in my pants too? =(