You, the TFM readers, and I disagree on many things. You say the dutch rudder is NF; I say it’s a fun, easy, and cool way to help your bros get off. You say not to bid a fat, dweeby kid because he’s NF; I toss him a bid so I can grab those rockin’ titties of his all semester long. You say it’s a bad idea to put the frat iguana through a meat grinder; I don’t respond because my mouth too full of sweet, sweet iguana meat.
Amidst all of this disagreement, there is one thing you and I can both agree upon: I am more frat than you. C’mon, folks. Let’s look at the facts:
1. Never going to class. TFM. Not having a class to go to. TDeVryGuyM.
2. As a writer for TFM, I have exclusive access to the database containing the Hot Piece rush boobs, the most FaF pair of bid-inducing sweater puppies ever created.
3. My frat, Kappa Sigma Gamma (Kony Sucks, Guys) WOULD be top house at DeVry, if only we had a house, or a campus. Regardless, we still get the best pledges and pull the hottest bitches while also having the coldest beer on the nonexistent row.
4. Did you have to suck a dude’s dick to get into your frat? No? I didn’t think so. And I didn’t have to suck just any dick; I had to suck my own. Do you have any idea how hard that is? I had to get one of my pledge brothers, who was against the following plan from the start, to repeatedly smash an old Sega Dreamcast into my chest in order to Marilyn Manson some of my ribs so I could go down on myself. He was crying, I was crying, the frat iguana was doing that weird throat bubble thing he does when he breathes…it’s not an experience we like to talk about too much these days, and it’s definitely not something for everyone. It’s only for us fratstars who will do anything to live the frat lifestyle.
The DeVry Guy. I’m a TFM.
As fraternity men, we frequently find ourselves in difficult social situations. For example, the classic “should I draw a Hitler ‘stache and “I love grundle munching” on my passed out pledge brother’s face?” That’s a conundrum. You all know the cardinal rule: shoes on=yes, shoes off=no. It’s not always that simple, though. What if he’s passed out with his shoes on, but also under the covers of his bed? Fifteen bucks says most of you fucks are so NF that you would have no idea how to react in this situation. You’d probably just shit your pants and cry for your mom like an incontinent high schooler getting beaten up at lunch break by Keith, the starting quarterback who didn’t apply himself enough and now works at McDonald’s while you’re writing for a successful fraternity humor website. FUCK YOU, KEITH!
Anyways, the correct response to this situation is to move the blacked out young man off of the bed and onto a couch or chair. He won’t remember that he was ever on the bed to begin with as long as nobody snitches, so you now have free range to draw whatever you want on your lightweight canvas. You’re welcome.
So, knowing how inept all of you punks are, my fratbrain thought, and I agreed, that I, in my infinite wisdom, should share with you how to act in one of the most confusing social situations in which you will find yourselves: The poop standoff.
I’m a man who takes things literally. When I first heard the term “poop standoff,” I thought it was a competition where people took a dump and then saw who could stand up the longest without wiping. I was actually hoping that’s what it was, because I’m on a great run of no-wipe poops right now, guys. My dung’s been sliding out of me smoother than the smooth pilsner with all-natural ingredients.
Then, I found out what it really was. The poop standoff occurs when you are in dire straits and need to resort to dropping a log in a public restroom. If there are only two people in the bathroom, and both are sitting down to poop but have not yet pooped, you are in a poop standoff. Both of you want to poop, but are waiting for the other person to poop, wash their hands and leave in order for you to be able to poop in peace. Until one of you makes a move, you’re both just alone in a room, chilling two feet away from each other with your dicks out. Just like me and my buddy Joe when we practice Eiffel Towering chicks.
While it has many names, the poop standoff is something we all experience. When I was living in the dorms freshman year it happened all the time. The Sunday morning beer shit was somewhat of an awkward Greek-GDI unity event, where geeds and fratters alike would come together on the can to regret their previous nights’ debauchery by holding in their deuces.
Time to get down to business. Here’s the deal. What you should aim to do is avoid the standoff altogether. There are three ways to do that:
1. Time your entrance into the restroom so that nobody will come in while you’re shitting.
The most frat way to do this is by standing at the entrance to the restroom and doing that squinty, shifty-eyed thing people do before they tell somebody a secret.
2. Pick a secluded restroom.
We all have that one restroom on campus where we like to go to drop a deuce. We go there because it just feels safe. It’s like a hug from John Stamos. Pick a good Stamos shitter and your poop standoffs will be few and far between.
3. Don’t poop.
This option only works for girls, though.
Hopefully one of those three options works in your favor. If not, I’m sorry, you’re in a poop standoff.
There are many plays when it comes to the poop standoff. I will analyze each.
1. Wait it out
The major flaw of this option is that if both you and your opponent choose it, you’re going to be there until one of you reaches the eruption point. This is the point at which one of you physically cannot hold it in anymore, and shit literally erupts out of your b-hole. The eruption point has many fun puns to go along with it, such as Krapatoa and Mt. Vepoopius, but I can assure you it is not an enjoyable experience by any stretch of the imagination.
That being said, if your opponent reaches his E.P. before you, congratulations! You’ve won the poop standoff. Wait for him to leave and you’re cleared for landing.
2. Just go for it
This is the worst play. Time spent pooping is time spent vulnerable; even the most TFTC man feels humbled on the John. I don’t want anyone but myself to ever hear the “plop plop” of my bum biscuits hitting the water or the cute little high-pitched farts that are the soundtrack to the experience. That sound is for my ears only. It’s just a primal embarrassment that I personally have not, and never want to, endure. If you’re some kind of monster who can shit without giving a shit what people think, then you deserve to win the standoff, because you’re fucking weird and probably don’t have anything going for you.
3. The toilet paper method
I found this method on the Internet a while back. The idea here is that before you get to business, you wad up some toilet paper and stick it inside the toilet on your expected landing spot. The toilet paper stops the poop from making direct contact with the water. This is the best option, because it has two benefits: it allows for a shit that is quieter and also one that is devoid of the unexpected toilet water enema that accompanies many defecations. The toilet paper method gets The DeVry Guy seal of approval.
You’re welcome. I hope the next time you poop, you think of me. I really do.
It’s a TFM.