Tale of Two Shitties

Photo 46

The Story of Pooping in NYC. Sorry.

I don’t know why I bothered to write this. Poop stories? Not really in fashion at 27 years of age. Nonetheless…



2 Comments so far. Leave a comment below.
  1. Josh,

    This story really strikes a cord with me. For one, every time I’m in NY, I always walk by that same Dallas BBQ in Chelsea, and once I even sat down in that exact Dunkin Donuts a block away for a coffee and, well, a donut.

    This story also strikes a cord because when I was first coming down with Crohn’s, it all happened in NY. I never shat my pants, but there were indeed many heated moments where public washrooms seemed impossible to find, and the pain seemed like it would break my ass.

  2. Fern,

    I’m a lady and all, but one time in Lima Peru I had no choice but to stop and shit spray during a niceish walk to the ocean. There were no Juicy Juice or Dunkins to save my sorry ass. It was two weeks into a year trip to South America and I was crouched behind a little bush that only hid my weird gringa hiking shoes.

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