billymach4
TUG Member
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Do u flush all the time?
- Thread starter Carta
- Start date
Photo is similar to what I saw in China, except it was one large porcelain or whatever tray in the floor. I couldn't imagine.
Geekette, unfortunately, there are still a lot of restrooms that don't have seat covers. Though I know you can buy them to carry with you (if you can find them). Worse case, I guess you could line the seat with TP and make sure it's also flushed down.
Geekette, unfortunately, there are still a lot of restrooms that don't have seat covers. Though I know you can buy them to carry with you (if you can find them). Worse case, I guess you could line the seat with TP and make sure it's also flushed down.
At a highway rest area somewhere in Western Europe, DH went to the left for Men and I went to the right for Women.
I stood on two metal foot-shaped pads with a trough between and underneath.
I saw liquid dribbling across the trough from under the wall in front of me.......turns out that DH was on the other side of a very thin wall, and we were sharing the trough LOL.
I stood on two metal foot-shaped pads with a trough between and underneath.
I saw liquid dribbling across the trough from under the wall in front of me.......turns out that DH was on the other side of a very thin wall, and we were sharing the trough LOL.
google image "don't stand toilet sign" and you'll find many variations on the theme, including at least one showing men to stand and aim rather than sit 
L
laurac260
I've never bothered with seat covers (I also don't sit unless absolutely necessary ).
Correct me if I'm wrong (and I'm sure someone will), but would a microscopic bacteria or virus actually be deterred by tissue paper??
I also use my foot to flush . Who knows what is living on those handles?
Correct me if I'm wrong (and I'm sure someone will), but would a microscopic bacteria or virus actually be deterred by tissue paper??
I also use my foot to flush . Who knows what is living on those handles?
Teeny-tiny cruelty warning..... Waaay back when these first came out, they first appeared in places like restrooms in service plazas on toll highways. I stopped in one of these places, and 'doing my business', there was a young boy of 9ish looking at the little oval 'window' that triggered the automatic flushing mechanism. I told him that they hired midgets who hid in the walls to look out those little windows and flush the urinal when the user finished. The kid took off screaming!
I felt a little bad about this- and as you can see that after more than 30 years, I remembered it. Hope the kid got over it.
Jim
- Joined
- Jul 16, 2010
- Messages
- 11,425
- Reaction score
- 7,726
- Location
- The Weirs, New Hampshire
- Resorts Owned
- Innseason Pollard Brook
Ok. How about this? We have a septic. We do not throw the toilet paper used for Number 1 in the toilet. It goes in the garbage can!
In our other home, we used to tell our company not to flush Number 1, but now in this house we have a better septic and leech fields, so they know they can flush (even the toilet paper)!
In our other home, we used to tell our company not to flush Number 1, but now in this house we have a better septic and leech fields, so they know they can flush (even the toilet paper)!
In this case, I'd say 'flush #1, not the paper.' Do you use special 'septic' TP? we use it in the RV. It dissipates very quickly, whereas 'good TP' doesn't. It sticks together and doesn't break down as rapidly. Lots of liquid will help keep the drain field working well, where solids will eventually need to be pumped out.
Jim
billymach4
TUG Member
Kitty Litter...
I live in a 6 Story Condo in NYC. One of our 2 bathrooms has not yet been remodeled. This bathroom does not have a tank, and is a huge water waster. It has the old style flushometer. It has really good and powerful flush!
The Kitty litter box is next to the toilet. When I am in a hurry I just scoop and flush down the drain. Since the water bill is included in my MF's, just like our TS's I really have no incentive to conserve water.
Do I feel bad about wasting water? Yes. But I know that more than 50% of my 120 neighbors also have the same setup, and they could care less as well.
About 20 years ago NYC was giving away free toilets with installation. The new toilets were the low flow version. This silly condo that I live held a vote and the majority did not want to take the new low flow versions.
Seems I live among some people around here that have big loads to flush.
I live in a 6 Story Condo in NYC. One of our 2 bathrooms has not yet been remodeled. This bathroom does not have a tank, and is a huge water waster. It has the old style flushometer. It has really good and powerful flush!
The Kitty litter box is next to the toilet. When I am in a hurry I just scoop and flush down the drain. Since the water bill is included in my MF's, just like our TS's I really have no incentive to conserve water.
Do I feel bad about wasting water? Yes. But I know that more than 50% of my 120 neighbors also have the same setup, and they could care less as well.
About 20 years ago NYC was giving away free toilets with installation. The new toilets were the low flow version. This silly condo that I live held a vote and the majority did not want to take the new low flow versions.
Seems I live among some people around here that have big loads to flush.
- Joined
- Jul 16, 2010
- Messages
- 11,425
- Reaction score
- 7,726
- Location
- The Weirs, New Hampshire
- Resorts Owned
- Innseason Pollard Brook
We essentially use Scott toilet paper, or any other toilet paper that says "Safe for Septic Systems"
For the Smells--also, girls don't poop
http://www.bing.com/videos/search?q...&mid=F31DD31751685E24E160F31DD31751685E24E160
http://www.bing.com/videos/search?q...&mid=F31DD31751685E24E160F31DD31751685E24E160
Too funny. Seems I heard of Dr. Oz saying something about adding a few drops of some essence to the bowl, so maybe it's a real product. Not that any of us would need it.
A store near us has several poo pourri scents available in its very lovely ladies' room. Of course I never needed it.
Found this in Best of Craigslist. Circa 2007.
Originally Posted: Fri, 18 May 07:44 EDT
Yesterday was hell
All in all, it hadn't been a good day. Bad traffic, a malfunctioning computer, incompetent coworkers and a sore back all made me a seething cauldron of rage. But more importantly for this story, it had been over forty-eight hours since I'd last taken a dump. I'd tried to jumpstart the process, beginning my day with a bowl of bowel-cleansing fiber cereal, following it with six cups of coffee at work, and adding a bean-laden lunch at Taco Bell. As I was returning home from work, my insides let me know with subtle rumbles and the emission of the occasional tiny fart that Big Things would be happening soon. Alas, I had to stop at the mall to pick up an order. I completed this task, and as I was walking past the stores on my way back to the car, I noticed a large sale sign proclaiming, "Everything Must Go!" This was prophetic, for my colon informed me with a sudden violent cramp and a wet, squeaky fart that everything was indeed about to go. I hurried to the mall bathroom. I surveyed the five stalls, which I have numbered 0 through 4 (I write a lot of software) for your convenience:
0.Occupied
1.Clean, but Bathroom Protocol forbids its use, as it's next to the occupied one.
2.Poo on seat.
3.Poo and toilet paper in bowl, unidentifiable liquid splattered on seat.
4.No toilet paper, no stall door, unidentifiable sticky object near base of toilet.
Clearly, it had to be Stall #1. I trudged back, entered, dropped trou and sat down. I'm normally a fairly Shameful Shitter. I wasn't happy about being next to the occupied stall, but Big Things were afoot.
I was just getting ready to bear down when all of a sudden the sweet sounds of Beethoven came from next door, followed by a fumbling, and then the sound of a voice answering the ringing phone. As usual for a cell phone conversation, the voice was exactly 8 dB louder than it needed to be. Out of Shameful habit, my sphincter slammed shut. The inane conversation went on and on. Mr. Shitter was blathering to Mrs. Shitter about the shitty day he had. I sat there, cramping and miserable, waiting for him to finish. As the loud conversation dragged on, I became angrier and angrier, thinking that I, too, had a crappy day, but I was too polite to yak about in public. My bowels let me know in no uncertain terms that if I didn't get crapping soon, my day would be getting even crappier.
Finally my anger reached a point that overcame Shamefulness. I no longer cared. I gripped the toilet paper holder in one hand, braced my other hand against the side of the stall, and pushed with all my might. I was rewarded with a fart of colossal magnitude -- a cross between the sound of someone ripping a very wet bed sheet in half and of plywood being torn off a wall. The sound gradually transitioned into a heavily modulated low-RPM tone, not unlike someone firing up a Harley. I managed to hit resonance frequency of the stall, and it shook gently.
-
Once my ass cheeks stopped flapping in the breeze, three things became apparent: (1) The next-door conversation had ceased; (2) my colon's continued seizing indicated that there was more to come; and (3) the bathroom was now beset by a horrible, eldritch stench.
It was as if a gateway to Hell had been opened. The foul miasma quickly made its way under the stall and began choking my poop-mate. This initial "herald" fart had ended his conversation in mid-sentence.
"Oh my God," I heard him utter, following it with the suppressed sounds of choking, and then, "No, baby, that wasn't me (cough, gag), you could hear that (gag)??"
Next door I could hear fumbling with the paper dispenser as he desperately tried to finish his task. Little snatches of conversation made themselves heard over my anal symphony: "Gotta go... horrible... throw up... in my mouth.... not... make it... tell the kids... love them... oh God..." followed by more sounds of suppressed gagging and retching.
-
Alas, it is evidently difficulty to hold one's phone and wipe one's bum at the same time. Just as my high-pressure abuse of the toilet was winding down, I heard a plop and splash from next door, followed by a string of swear words and gags. My poop-mate had dropped his phone into the toilet.
After a considerable amount of paperwork, I got up and surveyed the damage. I felt bad for the janitor who'd be forced to deal with this, but I knew that flushing was not an option. No toilet in the world could handle that unholy mess. Flushing would only lead to a floor flooded with filth.
As I left, I glanced to the next-door stall. Nothing remained in the bowl. Had he flushed his phone, or had he plucked it out and left the bathroom with nasty unwashed hands? The world will never know.
I exited the bathroom, momentarily proud and Shameless, looking around for a face glaring at me. But I saw no one. I suspect that somehow my supernatural elimination has manged to transfer my Shamefulness to my anonymous poop-mate. I think it'll be a long time before he can bring himself to poop in public -- and I doubt he'll ever again answer his cell phone in the loo. And this, my friends, is why you should never talk on your phone in the bathroom.
post id: 333345372
Sent from my iPhone using Tapatalk
Originally Posted: Fri, 18 May 07:44 EDT
Yesterday was hell
All in all, it hadn't been a good day. Bad traffic, a malfunctioning computer, incompetent coworkers and a sore back all made me a seething cauldron of rage. But more importantly for this story, it had been over forty-eight hours since I'd last taken a dump. I'd tried to jumpstart the process, beginning my day with a bowl of bowel-cleansing fiber cereal, following it with six cups of coffee at work, and adding a bean-laden lunch at Taco Bell. As I was returning home from work, my insides let me know with subtle rumbles and the emission of the occasional tiny fart that Big Things would be happening soon. Alas, I had to stop at the mall to pick up an order. I completed this task, and as I was walking past the stores on my way back to the car, I noticed a large sale sign proclaiming, "Everything Must Go!" This was prophetic, for my colon informed me with a sudden violent cramp and a wet, squeaky fart that everything was indeed about to go. I hurried to the mall bathroom. I surveyed the five stalls, which I have numbered 0 through 4 (I write a lot of software) for your convenience:
0.Occupied
1.Clean, but Bathroom Protocol forbids its use, as it's next to the occupied one.
2.Poo on seat.
3.Poo and toilet paper in bowl, unidentifiable liquid splattered on seat.
4.No toilet paper, no stall door, unidentifiable sticky object near base of toilet.
Clearly, it had to be Stall #1. I trudged back, entered, dropped trou and sat down. I'm normally a fairly Shameful Shitter. I wasn't happy about being next to the occupied stall, but Big Things were afoot.
I was just getting ready to bear down when all of a sudden the sweet sounds of Beethoven came from next door, followed by a fumbling, and then the sound of a voice answering the ringing phone. As usual for a cell phone conversation, the voice was exactly 8 dB louder than it needed to be. Out of Shameful habit, my sphincter slammed shut. The inane conversation went on and on. Mr. Shitter was blathering to Mrs. Shitter about the shitty day he had. I sat there, cramping and miserable, waiting for him to finish. As the loud conversation dragged on, I became angrier and angrier, thinking that I, too, had a crappy day, but I was too polite to yak about in public. My bowels let me know in no uncertain terms that if I didn't get crapping soon, my day would be getting even crappier.
Finally my anger reached a point that overcame Shamefulness. I no longer cared. I gripped the toilet paper holder in one hand, braced my other hand against the side of the stall, and pushed with all my might. I was rewarded with a fart of colossal magnitude -- a cross between the sound of someone ripping a very wet bed sheet in half and of plywood being torn off a wall. The sound gradually transitioned into a heavily modulated low-RPM tone, not unlike someone firing up a Harley. I managed to hit resonance frequency of the stall, and it shook gently.
-
Once my ass cheeks stopped flapping in the breeze, three things became apparent: (1) The next-door conversation had ceased; (2) my colon's continued seizing indicated that there was more to come; and (3) the bathroom was now beset by a horrible, eldritch stench.
It was as if a gateway to Hell had been opened. The foul miasma quickly made its way under the stall and began choking my poop-mate. This initial "herald" fart had ended his conversation in mid-sentence.
"Oh my God," I heard him utter, following it with the suppressed sounds of choking, and then, "No, baby, that wasn't me (cough, gag), you could hear that (gag)??"
Next door I could hear fumbling with the paper dispenser as he desperately tried to finish his task. Little snatches of conversation made themselves heard over my anal symphony: "Gotta go... horrible... throw up... in my mouth.... not... make it... tell the kids... love them... oh God..." followed by more sounds of suppressed gagging and retching.
-
Alas, it is evidently difficulty to hold one's phone and wipe one's bum at the same time. Just as my high-pressure abuse of the toilet was winding down, I heard a plop and splash from next door, followed by a string of swear words and gags. My poop-mate had dropped his phone into the toilet.
After a considerable amount of paperwork, I got up and surveyed the damage. I felt bad for the janitor who'd be forced to deal with this, but I knew that flushing was not an option. No toilet in the world could handle that unholy mess. Flushing would only lead to a floor flooded with filth.
As I left, I glanced to the next-door stall. Nothing remained in the bowl. Had he flushed his phone, or had he plucked it out and left the bathroom with nasty unwashed hands? The world will never know.
I exited the bathroom, momentarily proud and Shameless, looking around for a face glaring at me. But I saw no one. I suspect that somehow my supernatural elimination has manged to transfer my Shamefulness to my anonymous poop-mate. I think it'll be a long time before he can bring himself to poop in public -- and I doubt he'll ever again answer his cell phone in the loo. And this, my friends, is why you should never talk on your phone in the bathroom.
post id: 333345372
Sent from my iPhone using Tapatalk
OMG I can't see the screen through my tears
OMG, through my tears and need to run to the pottie before I have an accident, I was thinking the same thing! DH came in to find out what my howls were all about!
I'll have to review Scoop's rant, but at the moment I'm tagging this one the
OMG, through my tears and need to run to the pottie before I have an accident, I was thinking the same thing! DH came in to find out what my howls were all about!
I'll have to review Scoop's rant, but at the moment I'm tagging this one the
Funniest . Tug . Post . Ever .
:hysterical: :hysterical: :hysterical: :hysterical: :hysterical:
:hysterical: :hysterical: :hysterical: :hysterical: :hysterical:
My two cats always drank the water from the toilet at our former house. We moved and they won't drink from these toilets. We have a water softener here - wonder if that was it.
My big guy (18 pounds) would actually hang over the edge of the bowl, back legs dangling off the ground while he drank. It looked he was "getting sick". It was hysterical.
Also, we are on septic and I can tell you I am VERY HAPPY that we all flush no matter if it is number 1 or number 2. If I had to walk into a bathroom and see yellow all the time, that would be an issue for me.
Yeah, well I was at a nightclub many many moons ago and thought basically the same thing when I walked into the rest room only to find a really dirty toilet seat. If I stand like a guy and straddle I should be able to hit my mark. Nope...just made a bigger mess.
What is the toilet etiquette when as a guest using the toilet you leave an aroma or the toilet backs up ?
Or what if there is no paper ?
courtesy flush - From Urban Dictionairy
A flush in the middle of the toilet-sitting process in order to reduce the aroma...usually performed on a "foreign throne" as a courtesy to the owner of said throne... in other words, to be polite and not stink up the host's crapper too much.