Azn Badger's Blog

What About the Lysine Contingency…?

December 14 2010: A Date Which Will Live In Rectal Infamy


Today my anus was sneak attacked as few anuses have been, uh, “snuck” attacked before it.

It all began 2 days ago at the dinner table…

My father, adventurous chef that he is; acquired a half dozen lamb shanks and broiled/stewed/cooked the shit out of them.

Lamb Shanks: The Silent Killer

Served awash in their own juices, as well as a healthy dousing of gravy, cranberries and mushrooms; the lamb was mouth-wateringly juicy and undeniably scrumptious.

It was a fine meal, fit for a king even.

… And then the lamb shanks made a second appearance on the dinner table the following evening.

Once again partaking of the greasy and oh so delicious lamb, I had no idea I was testing the limits of my stomach’s capacity to process hearty and/or artery clogging foods.

That evening I went to bed a boy with a full stomach.

Today I come before you, a man.

A man that can’t so much as bend over without feeling like he’s got a wad of tin foil lodged in his asshole.

Yeah, I wish I was kidding...

Honestly man, despite all the bathroom war stories I’ve shared on this blog, the one that I experienced earlier today was the worst I’ve ever experienced.

The worst part of it, as indicated by the title of this post; was the fact that I had no idea what was coming my way until it was already halfway out of me.

It began as many anal skirmishes do, with a persistent, but otherwise mild feeling of itchiness in my rectum.

Still at work at the time, I decided to ignore the warning shot across my asses’ bow in favor of keeping busy.

Throughout the day, the itchiness persisted, gradually pervading my consciousness and making it difficult to stay on task.

The problem was, I honestly didn’t feel like I needed to dump ass, my canal just felt itchy is all.

Anyway, as one might expect, after hours of itchiness in my cheek trench, I decided to set aside some time during my lunch break and attempt a little preemptive toilet bombing.

Y’know, just to see if there was in fact something stewing around in my guts that wanted out, but was just too shy to send out a warning fart to let me know.

Let me take a second to point something out to you:

We don’t sit down at the Amazon.com warehouse.

We get lunch and a few breaks, but outside of that; there’s almost no task in the warehouse that allows for one to sit down.

That being said, from the time I started getting my warning itch, to the time I actually decided to address it, I was never once squatting, bent over, or sitting down.

Had I done any one of those things, I probably wouldn’t have ignored those anal itches as foolishly as I did.

The moment I lifted my ass and bent my knees to plop down on the toilet, I felt my anus tear itself apart in a firestorm of rectal fury.

Pearl Harbor?

The Firebombing of Dresden?

The nuclear detonations at Hiroshima and Nagasaki?

Fucking child’s play compared to the furious inferno of hellfire rampaging through my asshole at ground zero.

As I sit here typing this, I still don’t know what the fuck happened.

It seriously felt like someone took an icepick, rammed it up my ass, and then “stirred” it around up there like they were making brownie mix or some shit.

I would take this any day over what I went through this afternoon...

Did I mention the icepick had been heated with a blowtorch?

Anyway, despite my eyes beginning to drip with tears from the pain an intensity of the battle ensuing down below; I nevertheless made the commitment to press forward and expel the foul beast of bile that had so viciously crippled my asshole.

While the sneak attack on my asshole was easily the most painful experience of today’s instance of bathroom warfare, the actual shit was pretty epic as well.

It’s not often I take long shits, but today’s sneaky turd was a good 6-8 incher.

While that may not be much by most standards, the real issue was the fact that, while he might not have been epicly long, he made me fight for every inch.

You ever seen a Moray Eel?

Note the abundance of the knives and stabbing weapons in his mouth...

Well, imagine pushing that out your anus, while it’s head’s inside you tearing away at your innards.

Needless to say, it was a hard fought battle that I feel fortunate to have survived.

Upon finally expelling the foul beast of brown from my bruised and bloodied hole of shame, I quickly flushed it away fearing it might in fact have been some sort of nasty creature out to get me from the inside out:

In case you’re a 5 year old, and think that Jason Lee was wrestling with his (presumably) monstrous cock in this clip; it’s actually a “shit-weasel” from Stephen King’s Dreamcatcher.

Quite faithfully rendered from the source material as well if I do say so myself.

Anyway, consider yourselves fortunate you weren’t me today folks.

Though I may be alive and mostly well, (my ass still hurts like a motherfucker…) something tells me I’ll be having flashbacks and night terrors over this one for some time…

Filed under: Movies, Uncategorized, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Apricots: The Forgotten Inflamer Of Rectums

How appropriate that it looks like a butt.

Not long ago, I put together a short list of foods that are known to upset my stomach.

Well, actually I believe I referred to the food list as being composed of items that “totally wreck your shit;” but that’s besides the point.

The point is, that list was only a small sampling of the many food products out there (mainly dried fruits and dairy products) that, while delicious; have severely debilitating repercussions for those that choose to consume them.

That being said, as I went over that list in my head today, I came to realize that I accidentally left out one particular food item that no bowel-wrecking food list should be without.

Said food item, is the apricot.

Unassuming and mild in appearance and taste, the apricot is, like the corn snake of the animal kingdom, one of nature’s cruel jokes.

Like the highly venomous corn snake, which bears a resemblance to the non-venomous king snake, (Zoobooks, God love ’em) the apricot has an appearance akin to several varieties of peaches.

Nevermind that apricots taste like squirrel anus in comparison to peaches…

Despite this, the brightly colored, supple fuzzy skinned apricot was seemingly engineered in such a way as to lure foolish creatures into eating it.

In that sense, it’s truly an evil fruit.

I ask you, how else could you describe a fruit that looks like the fuckin’ juiciest peach you’ve ever seen, tastes like grapefruit smeared with dirt and sea monkeys, and then yanks your colon out your ass an hour later?

That’s the thing that really gets me about apricots, how fucking calculated it’s attack on your anus seems to be.

I mentioned that apricots taste mild.

On my list from awhile back, I put mango and papaya on there, as I have a great deal of experience in battling those beasts on the porcelain throne.

Seriously, me and those 2, we fight it out all the fuckin’ time, ‘cept now that I’ve seen all their best moves, they ain’t got nothin’ on me.

The point, mango and papaya are extremely flavorful, and borderline syrupy fruits.

Their rich to the point in which you tell yourself at some point while eating them:

“Well, I’ve been eating mango now for 20 minutes straight.  I should probably pack it in, otherwise I’ll get the shits.”

That thought never enters your mind when you’re eating apricots on account of them tasting so fuckin’ plain.

It’s one of those fruits that no one really goes out of their way to get a hold of.

You just kind of eat ’cause, well; it’s there and you have nothing better to do.

In case you haven’t realized this already, a word to the wise:

DON’T EAT TOO MANY APRICOTS.

You know what happens when you eat too many fuckin’ apricots?

Your anus goes supernova, that’s what.

You think you’ve had explosive diarrhea?

No, I’m afraid you have not sir and/or madam.

You think you’ve had horrible fuckin’ gas that feels like your passing a banana slug every time your ass unclenches to let out a fart?

No, I’m afraid you have not sir and/or madam, not until you’ve OD’ed on apricots.

While it’s far from one of the worst aspects of apricot induced anal napalming, (we’ll get to that) it should be mentioned that there is a truly devious time-delay to the intestinal effects of the malevolent fruit of the Turks.

For a good solid hour or so, you’re fine.

You go about you day, thinking everything’s fine, and then out of nowhere, you feel a tremor in the force.

It starts small, like the water glass ripples in Jurassic Park.

You feel a slight tingle in your belly, like tiny feathers are tickling your insides.

Your eye twitches involuntarily.

And then it happens.

Your stomach gurgles and let’s out bestial roar that would send the mightiest of beasts running for the hills.

“UUUUWWWWWAAAAAOOOHHHHH!!!!!!”

With that, the race to find a porcelain venue to extricate and extinguish the raging fury of the mighty bowel beast is on.

At this point there is precious little time, possibly less than 5 minutes before either your entire body tears itself in half in a desperate bid to pass an ungodly mass of shit in one go, or you start puking up orange feces.

In other words:

You have 5 minutes to find a toilet, or risk a messy and horribly violent death at the hands of Turkish fruit.

In public no less.

Assuming you find your way to a toilet/honey bucket/spot in the bushes, congratulations; you now get the pleasure of enduring one of the most savage tests of rectal fortitude known to man.

The moment you get your pants down, pray to God you’re wearing a helmet, ’cause the explosive force of your anus expelling untold volumes of apricot juice is going to put you in orbit, or failing that; head first into whatever roof lie above you

Seriously, you better make sure to be holding on tight to the toilet too, ’cause in about 1 second flat, you’re gonna’ be floating 20 feet above it spewing a hateful waterfall of orange fecal matter onto the floor, the walls, all over yourself and most of the nearby countryside.

I cannot stress enough, just how utterly morbid the process of apricot induced anal evacuation can be.

The immense pressure generated by the expulsion process is enough to cripple a man for life.

I’ve cracked my back ass-vomiting apricots.

I’ve popped my ears anally aborting a gelatinous apricot baby once or twice.

I’ve been told that, in particularly severe instances; men have felt as if their eyes, tongue and teeth were going to be sucked from inside their skulls and coughed up into the shiny white bowl along with the gallons of apricot jizz and the rest of their internal organs.

That being said, this post should be considered less an addition to my intentionally humorous list of foods that will wreck your shit, and more like that of a PSA.

Seriously, don’t fuck with apricots.

They will fuck with you right back, and trust me; you don’t want that…

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Azn Badger’s Guide To Foods That Will Wreck Your Shit-Hole

Haha, poop on head!

Yesterday I posted a 1,000+ word article on the subject of defecation and it’s place in American culture.

I’m proud to say it’s one of the better posts I’ve made in the past month or so.

That being said, today I’ve decided to follow up the success of that gloriously shit-stained post by putting together a list of foods that I’ve done battle with on the porcelain throne over the years.

Please bear in mind that this list is based entirely of my personal experience, as well as through knowledge imparted to me by others comfortable enough to do so.

That being said, the following will be quite detailed, and very likely; too graphic for some.

You have been warned.

Dried Mango:

 

Pictured: The best brand. Trust me, there are some truly shitty brands...

A personal favorite of mine (eating it right now in fact!).

I’ve built up a tolerance to it over the years, but newbies will be greeted with frequent and chunky shits containing undigested, and still quite yellow, fragments of mango.

Said effects only manifest when consumed in mass quantities.

Not painful to deal with, but the frequency of shits can be troublesome if you have an upcoming social occasion.

Best eaten/OD’ed on when your schedule is clear for the day.

Note: Philippine brand mango is recommended, as it easily the highest quality.  Stay away from Top Food’s bulk version though.

It’s orange.

Last time I checked, mango wasn’t orange

Dried Papaya:

Eww... Those don't look like any papaya I would buy...

Not as tasty as mango, but extremely easy to OD on due to the richness of the fruit.

Results in slight constipation, and slight headache if consumed in mass quantities.

Can occasionally cause one’s shit to become mucus-like in consistency.

Be mindful of over-indulging, as it can result in an itchy sensation in the rectum that makes it difficult to gauge the urgency of impending shits.

Seriously, it’s like your anus is pulling a rope-a-dope on your nervous system, tricking it into thinking it needs to drop a deuce when there’s simply no deuces to drop.

Extremely frustrating to contend with, as constipation is equally as likely to manifest as the never ending, itchy “good God, I need to shit like a camel needs to spit” sensation.

Recommended in small portions, or not at all; as dried mango is a billion times more tasty anyway…

Almond Butter:

Whaddaya' know, it looks the same goin' in as it does comin' out!

A tasty peanut butter alternative that goes down smooth, but puts on a helluva’ fight on the way out.

As mentioned above, it produces no noticeable symptoms upon initial consumption, however it grows fangs/balls sometime during the digestion process, resulting in sneakily urgent shits later in the day.

Said evacuation process is actually not so much painful, as it is uncomfortable and anti-climactic.

Uncomfortable in the sense that one’s shits produce an irritating itching sensation, not to mention are rendered disappointingly miniscule by man-standards.

(Yes, we have standards for that.)

Anti-climactic in the sense that one’s body goes ape-shit telling them they need to get to a toilet right now, so they can anally evict the rampaging shit-leopard from their bowels before it quite literally tears them a new asshole, only to find that the resulting ass-leavings were a shit-kitty at best.

Still, that itching sensation can be epicly frustrating…

Raisins:

"Well hello there raisin hottie, what'cha' got there? HOLY JEEBUS, DON'T YOU REALIZE WHAT THOSE'LL DO TO ME!?"

Don’t let the friendly mascot of the hot Mexican chick fool you, raisins claim the porcelain throne as their second home, carving their name into the asshole of any man foolish enough to challenge them on their turf.

Seriously man, raisins are tough customers.

Consumption results in severe gas and an unrelenting feeling of “oh my God, I need to take a shit so bad” so severe, that most men opt to spend the remainder of the day in the John, y’now, just in case.

Despite this, the process of sending raisins on the endless descent into the white bowl of doom is where the actual wrecking of one’s shit generally occurs.

Said shit is akin to experiencing the crippling “oh my God, why won’t my ass stop crying” symptoms of diarrhea, while undergoing the “holy shit, why won’t my anus come out and play?” symptoms of constipation.

Seriously, the resulting shit is a marathon of anal endurance; the likes of which few can endure.

It’s like a 12 round war of attrition, broken up by frequent, and unsettling bouts of clinching.

Or is that “clenching?”

Despite one’s best efforts, in this particular equation, one is simply doomed to ride out the literal shit-storm of anal flotsam and debris that will very likely adorn their bathroom walls over the next 15-360 minutes.

Make no mistake, war is hell; especially when fought on the crapper…

Cheese (Any of the Cow variety):

"Ah, the power of chees..."

I am Japanese.

History teaches us that, for a very long time, my people had no cows.

Make no mistake, when it comes to foods that wreck my shit, few things of this Earth can do so as quickly, efficiently, and as unfailingly as dairy products.

While eggnog is a close second, I honestly feel that cheeses have the greatest capacity to tear my rectum inside out and fold it over my head like a shitty hockey player on the receiving end of a particularly savage hockey beatdown.

Consumption of cheese results in noticeable symptoms right off the bat.

It all starts with the “cheese sweats.”

Y’know, that nasty feeling where you feel all greasy and short of breath every time you exert yourself even a little.

Once the “cheese sweats” have settled in, then the nasal congestion starts to rear it’s ugly head, making you look like an ass as you constantly snort and blow your nose in a lame attempt to keep from breathing through your mouth like a loser.

Seriously, nobody likes a mouth breather.

NOBODY.

Once all of that has settled in, things finally come to a head as the dreaded “cheese gas” starts acting up, causing your anus to cough up clouds of all sorts of Evil Cow God cursed gasses that no man (or woman) of this Earth are meant to (nor able to) contend with.

Make no mistake, when an Asian declares bathroom jihad on a product of the dairy clan; collateral damage is not only expected, it’s a certainty.

That being said, unless you’re comfortable with living out the rest of your days knowing that a handful of people’s faces were Ark of the Covenant-ed by the noxious “cheese gas” crop-dusting from your shit-hole on your long march to the porcelain theater of war, I would suggest removing one’s self from any public venues before consuming any cheeses.

Despite the immense possibilities for public humiliation, doing battle with cheese is much like taking on a bully.

He may put on a big bravado, humiliating you from time to time, and even going so far as getting physical with you every now and again; but once you get him into the ring and start trading with him, he folds like the lips of your anus in the off-season.

In short, the actual battle with cheese is rather brief, and actually ends up feeling like a relief after all the tortuous build-up.

Either that, or you get diarrhea.

Really BAD diarrhea…

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Do You Know Your Poop-Hole?

Written by a Japanese dude. No surprise there...

Everyone poops.

That’s not just the title of an awesome book, it’s also a stone cold fact.

A fact that too many of us seem to deny, or choose not to acknowledge.

I came to realize something a few years back:

Azn people talk about poop.

A lot.

A few years ago, I got into the habit of asking a specific question to all of my close friends.

Said question goes a little something like this:

“Hey, does your family like to talk about poop and bowel functions?”

What I discovered over the years, is that virtually all of my Asian friends, be they Thai, Cambodian, Japanese, Chinese, Korean, etc. answered me with a simple “yes,” while my friends of the decidedly paler variety, either dodged the question or replied with an emphatic “no.”

I can’t really put my finger on the details of why this is, but my best guess is that it’s a cultural difference.

While I can’t speak for any other Asian culture, being Japanese; I can say with a great deal of certainty, that we Japanese (always wanted to say that…) are a bowel obsessed people.

In America; the only talk of bowel functions, or urination, or poop that we get in mainstream media comes in the form of potty humor and TV commercials for pills that prevent old people from peeing themselves.

In general, American mainstream television seems to believe that irregular bowel functions are a problem only for the elderly and menopausal, as I’ve yet to see images of youthful people associated with the subject.

And no, Jamie Lee Curtis and her Activia ads does not count as a “youthful” spokesperson for healthy bowels in America.

If anything, it’d be more appropriate to file her under the menopausal demographic…

This is not the case in Japan.

You flip on just about any daytime television program in Japan, and I guarantee you you’ll find at least a half dozen programs for herbal bowel regulation supplements featuring interviews with young and nubile, bikini clad women openly discussing the epic shit they took the night before, or the epic shit they feel they need to take, but just can’t get out the gate due to their irregular bowel functions.

Don’t ask me why, but we Japanese talk about our poops.

All my life, I’ve gotten the feeling that my mom cares more about the health of my anus than me as a person.

Seriously, I can’t go a day without having her ask me:

“Did you get your ruffage?”

“Are you regular”

“Do you got the poops?”

Some kids go away to college for 4 years, and have their parent’s drop them a line every now and again to tell them how much they miss them, or to ask how their classes are going.

I went away for 4 years and my mom would call me every day to ask if I was backed up.

Being as I was eating at the school cafeteria most of the time, I did in fact have my fair share of bathroom war stories to report to my mother; but that’s besides the point.

The point is, in my family; the health and status of the various colons and anuses in the household have not only been fair game for discussion, they’ve played host to some of the more serious and genuinely interesting conversations we’ve had.

You may be laughing at this point, but I find that growing up being aware of, and free to discuss the state of my bowels has done me a lot of good.

Seriously, when I see some of shit that people eat, only to complain later in the day that their “stomach” is bothering them, (note: stomach is code for “anus” or “ass” among the sheepish) I can’t help but consider myself fortunate to know better than them.

Honestly folks, if you’re in good health, and know how your system reacts to whatever food you put into it; you’ll find that unwelcome “surprises” like the one mentioned above will almost never happen.

While I’m on the subject of food though, I figure I should mention why I decided to type this article today.

Today a friend of mine at work offered me some pecans as a snack.

I politely declined, citing my bowel’s inability to handle the delicious, but ass-crippling nut that is the pecan.

Actually, I think my exact words were:

“I like pecans man, but you realize they’ll wreck your shit, right?”

My comment was met with laughter, as it was indeed meant to be; but I think my buddy failed to realize that it also doubled as a genuine admonishment coming from a seasoned veteran of toilet seat warfare.

We’ll come back to that in a minute.

Anyway, sure enough, later in the day my buddy sat down next to me, his expression devoid of character, his complexion chalky and white as the Moon; and he said to me in the most humble of tones:

“So, those pecans tore through me pretty bad a minute ago…”

The kid got reeled in by the sweet taste and classy packaging of the pecans, only to end up getting his ass used as the ring for a 40-shit Royal Rumble.

Poor bastard probably blacked out putting himself in a Steiner Recliner just to get the last man over the top rope…

To that I responded with a baudy “I told you so,” however with just the slightest hint of understanding layered beneath it all.

You see, though I know my bowels like the back of my hand, I have this strange problem where many of my favorite foods/snacks just happen to be things that “upset” me.

I know this from experience, as well as from the fact that I’ve over-indulged in said food items at least once/twice/a billion times, to the point where the resulting toilet seat warfare has become routine to a fault.

It’s been a long time since I’ve waged all-out war with my anus, to the point where these days every skirmish is more akin to war games than anything else.

Trust me, I quite literally know my shit.

Tomorrow I’ll be following things up with a detailed list of tasty snacks that just happen to wreck your shit if you eat too much of them!

Excuse me while I step out to do little peacekeeping South of the border…

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Predators Sucked a Honey Badger’s Ass

And sucked it good...

Nimrod Antal’s Predators sucked donkey balls.

Like, FOH’ REAL.

Hah! Betcha' didn't think I could tie in the Hawaiian stuff with donkey balls, am I right?

Nothing happened in the first half of the movie.

My favorite actor in the movie was killed off way too early, and unceremoniously at that.

Adrien Brody spends the whole movie failing at imitating Christian Bale’s Batman voice.

Topher Grace is mostly useless, essentially still stuck playing Eric Forman (don’t ask me why Eric Forman has a Wikipedia article) from That 70’s Show.

So much of the film was made in homage to the first film in the series that it may as well have been a remake.

The Predators have virtually no presence in the film, physical or otherwise.

Oh yeah, and the last third of the movie, which is also curiously overlong; takes what little promise the film might have had, and proceeds to shit all over it.

With poop.

For 45 minutes.

Boy am I glad my brother paid for my ticket this time…

Filed under: Movies, Uncategorized, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

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