Well, Rick (http://www.xanga.com/home.aspx?user=meatcircus) asked me to post this. I'll make a disclaimer: If you are easily grossed out, DO NOT READ THIS ONE!

The following is how I became a legend of pooping:

I used to be chronically constipated. For some reason (blame on my diet, whatever you want) I would not go. In February of 2003, I was admitted to the hospital because I hadn't gone in about 2 months. Yes, two months. I thought I was gonna die. My physician said I was on the verge of it. Well, they admitted me, and thought that they were gonna have to do invasive surgery. Well, my surgeon was invasive alright, just not with surgery. I think you get the drift. I did not get a finger, I got a hand. Throw up now if you please. He then found out that I had a hernia that was strangulating my bowels and wouldn't let me go. He popped it back so it would no longer be strangulating my bowels. PAIN! Well, things started running smoothly. I took 3 dumps that day.

The next day, they said I had to drink a laxative so that I would be cleared out so that I go in for tests. So I took this sucker. Around 6 PM, I had to go. I got onto the bedside commode to go to work. It felt like I was giving birth. It seemed to come out one millimeter at a time. I was having to breathe like I was doing lamase. I grabbed my IV tree and clung to that for dear life. I swear, I felt my toes curling up into my feet! About 5 minutes later, I hear a loud THUD in the commode. After about 3 minutes, I had caught my breath to get up and look. If I'm lying, I'm dying: the thing was 2 feet long, and about 6 inches in diameter. So I called for a tech to empty it. She did, flushed, and it would not go down. They tried plunging it: IT WOULD NOT GO DOWN. They had to call maintenance in to try to get it down. They had to use a power drill to break it up so that it would flush!

Well, that's the story of how I became a legend of pooping. Now for the story of how I freaked out my youth pastor:

The next day. I went in for a procedure. A colonoscopy. Yay. Well, they gave me an IV drip of pain killers so I could be awake but not feel anything. Well, I went into the room talking. From what I hear, I did not shut up during the entire procedure. I came out of the room talking (I can't remember, but that's what they tell me). I go back to my room and I can't open my eyes! Here comes my youth paster. I'm all like, "Wes man! I can hear you. I know your in here. But I can't see you. Either I've gone blind or I can't open my eyes. Just grab my hand so I'll know you're there." He does. "Yeah, now I see you man!" My eyes are still closed. That's when I told Wes that I now knew why he used to do drugs.

Never give me demerol.

You asked for it Rick.