For some reason I’m pondering outhouses tonight. Don’t ask
me why. This is the type of shit that pops into my head at any given moment and
screams “You will now spend the next 15 minutes obsessing about pooping in a pit
and only once you have fully explored this topic, you may move on to something
slightly less disturbing. Enjoy!”
Stupid brain.
Anyhoo, back in the marriage days, we used to do a lot of camping. My ex loves to camp and is one of those people that used to spend his weekends as a teen out in the bush with only a small tarp, a knife and a can of pork and beans. Personally I think this was less camping and more an exercise in pretending to be homeless and I never did understand how sleeping on the ground with only a rock for a pillow was supposed to be anyone’s idea of fun. I had never camped in my life until I met him because my parents idea of camping was staying at a hotel that didn’t offer room service, so you can see why this sounded more like self-subjected torture than a hella good time.
I did start camping and was shocked to discover I liked it. Ok, not all of it…I really hate sleeping in a tent but thankfully that’s why campers and RVs were invented. My ex and I came to a compromise and started borrowing his parents camper to go camping after we had our son and even he grudgingly admitted that changing diapers or trying to get a 3 year old to have a nap was FAR easier in a camper. Not to mention the fridge was handy in that it kept all the beer cold instead of having to make a daily trip to the store for more ice.
When we camped with the camper we had a rule that the toilet was for #1 only…this ensured the sewage tank would not get full after 4 days and save us from living with that subtle but lingering Eau De Poo smell, which was inevitable no matter how many chemicals got dumped down the toilet. Which left us three options for dropping a log: use the campground-provided outhouses, squat behind a tree and fervently hope you are not hunkered down in a patch of poison oak or hold it until you get home.
Paranoia dictated I go with option #3.
I don’t care how well maintained an outhouse is (and the majority at the campgrounds we went to were), the fact is you are squatting over an open pit full of fuck knows how many other people’s bodily waste, in a tiny airless shack and you are breathing in microscopic particles OF OTHER PEOPLE’S SHIT. Not to mention those outhouse pits are deep…my imagination goes into overdrive thinking about what could potentially be living in that shit pit…mutant rats, giant snakes, machete-wielding serial killers…YOU JUST DON’T KNOW AND NO FUCKING WAY AM I FINDING OUT. So needless to say there were many camping trips that ended with me arriving home and practically weeping in appreciation over my clean and non-smelly flush-toilet followed by a bowel evacuation so epic I could almost hear my toilet whimpering in fear and awe.
There may be no record of anyone getting stabbed in the ass by some shit-covered psycho lurking in an outhouse pit, but I am NOT going to be the first reported victim.
Stupid brain.
Anyhoo, back in the marriage days, we used to do a lot of camping. My ex loves to camp and is one of those people that used to spend his weekends as a teen out in the bush with only a small tarp, a knife and a can of pork and beans. Personally I think this was less camping and more an exercise in pretending to be homeless and I never did understand how sleeping on the ground with only a rock for a pillow was supposed to be anyone’s idea of fun. I had never camped in my life until I met him because my parents idea of camping was staying at a hotel that didn’t offer room service, so you can see why this sounded more like self-subjected torture than a hella good time.
I did start camping and was shocked to discover I liked it. Ok, not all of it…I really hate sleeping in a tent but thankfully that’s why campers and RVs were invented. My ex and I came to a compromise and started borrowing his parents camper to go camping after we had our son and even he grudgingly admitted that changing diapers or trying to get a 3 year old to have a nap was FAR easier in a camper. Not to mention the fridge was handy in that it kept all the beer cold instead of having to make a daily trip to the store for more ice.
When we camped with the camper we had a rule that the toilet was for #1 only…this ensured the sewage tank would not get full after 4 days and save us from living with that subtle but lingering Eau De Poo smell, which was inevitable no matter how many chemicals got dumped down the toilet. Which left us three options for dropping a log: use the campground-provided outhouses, squat behind a tree and fervently hope you are not hunkered down in a patch of poison oak or hold it until you get home.
Paranoia dictated I go with option #3.
I don’t care how well maintained an outhouse is (and the majority at the campgrounds we went to were), the fact is you are squatting over an open pit full of fuck knows how many other people’s bodily waste, in a tiny airless shack and you are breathing in microscopic particles OF OTHER PEOPLE’S SHIT. Not to mention those outhouse pits are deep…my imagination goes into overdrive thinking about what could potentially be living in that shit pit…mutant rats, giant snakes, machete-wielding serial killers…YOU JUST DON’T KNOW AND NO FUCKING WAY AM I FINDING OUT. So needless to say there were many camping trips that ended with me arriving home and practically weeping in appreciation over my clean and non-smelly flush-toilet followed by a bowel evacuation so epic I could almost hear my toilet whimpering in fear and awe.
There may be no record of anyone getting stabbed in the ass by some shit-covered psycho lurking in an outhouse pit, but I am NOT going to be the first reported victim.
This made me LOL and I am not the biggest fan of poop and potty posts. I've never understood the concept of camping, and I'm the first to tell you it is not a statistical improbability that a killer lurks in those pits. Which is why I do all my roughing it at Embassy Suites in questionable parts of town.
ReplyDeleteWelcome to yeah write.
The odds may be low regarding shit-pit serial killers, but I'm not willing to play those odds. Give me a hotel with the end of the toilet paper folded into a nice point any day!
DeleteThis was great, and really funny. I do love to camp and rough it, but I would agree that outhouses are not a pleasant place to pass the time. But since I lived through using a toilet in Honduras where a rat was literally coming out if the drain while I was going, I figure I can handle whatever little surprises the outhouse might have in store. Well, unless it's a serial killer, I guess.
ReplyDeleteThank you!
DeleteOMFG, the rat coming out of the toilet thing is one of my phobias...I always check before I sit down, just in case
We used to go camping a lot when I was a kid. Thankfully we always stayed at campgrounds with washrooms. Worrying about getting athlete's foot from a moldy shower stall was scary enough without having to deal with an outhouse too!
ReplyDeleteEwww, those showers are so gross! You feel like you need another shower right after, just to get the yuck-shower bacteria off
DeleteThis comment has been removed by the author.
DeleteMy parents loved camping. I hated it. One time, I held it for a whole week. As an adult, I'm not a big fan of public toilets, either, and actually keep a mental list of which places have "good" restrooms.
ReplyDeleteMy son is like that too...I don't know how many times we've had to leave a store so we could rush home where he can poop in good conscience
DeleteHahahahaah... very few bloggers talk about poop. I do but not in the same context as you. I have a health blog and.... well anyway....
ReplyDeleteI don't like outhouses either... but when you gotta go, you gotta go.
I see you are going to to the A-Z Challenge. I decided not to because we are planning a vacation in April and I won't be able to keep up.
Yeah, poop posts are one of those things where you take the risk of grossing out your readers lol
DeleteThis will be my first A-Z Challenge and I'm looking forward to it!
Totally reasonable! I feel the same way!
ReplyDeleteWhile I have never met anyone who actually enjoys the outhouse experience, I'll bet it's an obscure fetish of some kind...which is REALLY disturbing lol
Deleteoh man...i was a girl scout. i had to "clean" those things. i know, what does that mean, right? they're glorified holes in the ground. but we did. "clean" them. and then i did civil war reenacting. trying to do the outhouse with a hoop skirt on. finally we just resorted to dropping the hoop outside and goin' in. nightmare.
ReplyDeletei hope you'll come join my monday hop again this week. loved having you! :)
OMFG, they make you clean outhouses in Girls Scouts?? What the hell kind of organization forces kids to clean out shit pits?? Although, being forced to do civil war reenactments in hoopskirts is almost as bad as outhouse-cleaning
DeleteYep, I joined in today's hop this morning and am just on my way to read everyone elses offerings!