The Scrabbled: Making Fun of Each Other since '99

No reason to go from one extreme to another. Just go back to eating healthier and that will be best for you. And you won’t get buttpee.

It’s really funny you should bring this up, Jay, cause I just finished reading this article:

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/health/7808348.stm

In short, science calls bullshit on the entire concept of “detoxifying” your body. It’s nonsense. Your body has the best detoxification already built in: your liver, kidneys, and GI tract. You could do a really massive amount of harm to yourself on some of these diets. Quite the opposite of the intended effect. For some people, it takes months for the natural bacteria levels in their GI system to return to normal.

Buttpee.

I’ve never done the master cleanse or juice diets or anything of the sort, but every once in a while I’ll fast for a 24 hour period just to give my body a rest. It’s not really detoxing, but after a period of eating like crap, whether it’s psychosamatic or not, I definitely feel better after doing it. It basically gives my system a chance to catch up with itself after a pummelling. I’m sure I’m not detoxifying or cleansing anything though.

However, I also usually follow this up by going back to eating very healthy rather than just doing it and then jumping back on the eating like crap train, which as others have noted is just as important.

Whoah. Yeah, clicked that. I’m curious.

Buttpee.

I didn’t ask him if it was OK, but I don’t care that guy doesn’t even like Seinfeld. Here is his entire buttpee story in all it’s glory as posted on 4/22/08:

Master Cleanse: Day 7 (POSSIBLY NSFW)













Today I peed my pants. At work. But I didn’t pee it out of my penis. I peed it out of my butt. Butt-pee. I butt-peed my pants today.

I woke up around 8:45, took my version of a crap, then drank a quart of salt water. After three or four trips to the bathroom, it was 10:45 and time to go to work. This was cutting it close on making sure that the flush was totally out of my system, but I tried one last time and figured I could make it to work, which I did.

I worked at the cafe today, which was bustling and I forgot about the likelihood that there might be one more shot of pee trying to evacuate. Around noon, the manager asked me to run to the restaurant supply store, which is about five blocks away.

I arrived at the supply store and wandered around aimlessly for a couple minutes. I decided to linger near the front of the store and get some help, when I felt a fart coming on. It occurred to me that the fart sensation might be a red herring, but it had been a full three hours since I drank the salt water. Also, in the last six days, even though farts have been rare, they still feel like they are going to be farts as they approach. Butt pee feels like someone opened a firehose at the top of my colon, and no amount of sphincter weight training could hold it back.

So. A fart? Not exactly. It eked out like a fart, as I cautiously let out a tiny bit. But it spread out across my butt cheeks and down my upper thigh in a manner very unlike a fart. If it was a fart, then it was like the fart had instantly formed a raincloud which rained down fart-rain all over my undies. But I knew better than that. This was no fart. This was fucking butt pee.

I have never squeezed my butt cheeks together so hard as I did for the next 45 seconds. A pointless act, to be sure, but I had to do something to feel like I was a player in this game. In reality, I was simply the audience, watching helplessly as my sphincter and the butt pee dueled at the edge of my colon. But I wasn’t even watching, I was just feeling. I knew who would win the duel; in fact, the winner had already been declared, but I was trying to delay the celebration where all the butt pee poured onto the field.

Hobbling over to a counter, I asked a woman if they had a bathroom. Amazingly, they did have one for customers and it was very close by. And, mercifully, there was no one in there. I slammed the door shut, hit the latch, pulled down my pants, sat down, and had a good long piss. Out my butt.

I was relieved that so much of this came out into the toilet, and imagined the horror of all of it coming out with that one “fart”. Having taken note of the bright side, I stood up to look into the toilet. I was glad to see that it was fairly free of solid waste; it really looked like I had peed into the toilet. Penis peed.

I finally got the nerve to check my clothing. I was immediately distressed by the state of my underwear.

Let’s pause here so I can tell you about my underwear. I wear briefs. I wear them because, if I don’t, my balls will hurt. That’s all another, even more harrowing tale that I will share at another time. What you need to know right now is that I wear briefs to keep my balls from hurting. I wear colored briefs to feel like I’m not eight years old anymore. Instead, I look like a European man at the beach. Most American mens’ underwear makers refer to these as “fashion briefs”. They come in three-packs or six-packs, and always with an assortment of colors. The six-packs are a better deal, but they always include at least one extremely unappealing color of fashion brief. Usually that color is teal.

Today was teal day. Teal day is one of the last days before laundry day, since black day, navy day, gray day and maroon day all come first. My teal underwear was wet now. Radiating in both directions from the bottom seam was a very big wet spot that looked like a rorschach inkblot. Rather than taking the time to interpret it, I simply said to myself, “That’s a lot of fucking butt pee.”

I inspected my pants, which still hadn’t inherited any of the moisture from my underwear. Excellent. I would be fine as long as I could manage to keep any butt pee from showing through my pants. A more reasonable person would instantly remove this underwear and burn it. But I found a few reasons why I couldn’t do that. First of all, I had five hours of work left and my balls would certainly hurt by the end. Secondly, anyone who has gone commando before knows that the wrong pants will lead to some zipper-chafe on the penis. These were the wrong pants to avoid said chafe. I also did not know where I could throw this underwear out. I had no plastic bag, there was a tiny wastebasket in this bathroom, and no discreet place to throw it out at work. I suppose I could find a dumpster or a mailbox along the way, but in a busy area of downtown at lunchtime, there’s just no good place to toss a pair of underwear without drawing some attention. And finally, it occurred to me that this underwear, no matter how unappealing to the eye, had just salvaged me the little bit of dignity I had left by providing a barrier between the truth and the public eye. Had my pants gotten wet, I would be in a far worse predicament. I’m not saying that I thought I should reward the underwear for its hard work; I’m saying that if I butt peed again, what had just transpired was probably the best-case scenario.

So I kept the underwear. I was suddenly aware of how much this made me look like I was in denial of the situation, like a child who has made over half of his pair of jeans wet and still looks dumbfounded when you ask him if he’s had an accident. I’ve worked with children who have pooped their pants and haven’t said anything for hours while the teachers tried to find the hidden smell. Was I becoming that child?

I wiped pointlessly at the wet spot with toilet paper. Then I made a fresh toilet paper wad, pulled up my underwear and placed it between my body and the undies. I washed my hands vigorously and went back into the store to buy the items for the cafe. As I walked, the T.P. wad migrated back and up, and settled in a place that surely made it look like I had a small, nubby tail hiding under my pants. Great.

Five minutes later, I was walking down the streets of downtown Portland, one hand carrying a bag of cafe supplies, the other reaching deeply into my pants to re-maneuver this toilet paper wad. I began to wonder what the hell I was thinking with the wad in the first place. When I returned to work, I dropped off the bag and went to the bathroom, which unfortunately is not private. We share a bathroom with a yoga studio, so it has a stall and a urinal and a shower. The stall has a nylon screen with a couple of suction cups that hold it in place, but there have been several times where I’ve had the screen closed and some yoga moron has still looked in to see if anyone was there. It was for this reason that I had to make whatever I was doing look somehow normal. Oh no, sir, I’m not squeezing two wads of toilet paper against my hideous underwear or peeing out my butt, I’m just taking a good ol’ crap.

I finally determined that this wasn’t going to get any drier, so I pulled up my underwear and felt the cold, damp butt-pee spot hugging my entire undercarriage. It felt disgusting. I pulled up my pants, which still appeared to be dry, and dejectedly made my way back into the cafe, where I proceeded to work for many more hours.

Later in the day, I had a heavy internal debate about how I would describe this to someone who is not aware of how butt pee works. I could tell the person I peed my pants, but that’s misleading, and robs me of a certain amount of glory as far as how bad the situation is. Could I say that I shit my pants? This is also misleading, but I think I’ve earned the crown of shame that is shitting one’s pants. But really, there is nothing quite like butt pee, and as you can see, this is a story that cannot be told in just a few sentences.

During Summer Camp, we often go on field trips where we go into public bathrooms and have to aggressively manage the kids since there are tons of other people milling around. This often involves determining whether a kid should go into a stall or up to a urinal by asking the question, “Do you have to go Number 1 or Number 2?” Most kids, by the age of 5, know what #1 and #2 are, and yet a common response is, “Both.” In the past, I’ve always thought the child was slightly confused by the question and simply had to go Number 2. But now I realize that I was the one who was confused. These kids probably just had to butt pee.

I always forget how flawless that story is until I read it again and lose control 15 times during the thing.

That’s the master cleanse, Evan — the very detox diet that caused the above buttpee story.

Your sister has buttpee and is keeping it a secret from you.

Bill, did Aaron post that anywhere else?

Perhaps it was McSweeneys plagiarized.

Black Rain.

It’s worth noting that, like every single other detox diet ever published, there is not one single peer-reviewed study that shows any benefit what-so-ever of the master cleanse.

This shit bothers me almost as much as the moon hoax garbage. I hate it when people get duped into believing stupid bullshit despite mountains of evidence in support of the opposite.

whatever you do, never google “poop rope”

Stacey said:

I won’t pretend to know the biology behind it but I do know that when I detox I have more energy and feel fantastic.

This is all I want for myself. I never feel “great”, and I’m holding on to every last hope that I don’t have some sort of weird disease and that I can somehow reach the great plateau with some butt pee.

Are people confusing “toxins” with "crap building up in your digestive tract? I mean isn’t it biology 101 that things from your food build up in there that if there long term are not good? And that getting as much or more of it out as possible is a good thing? I’m not saying the Master Cleanse does this or in any way gets that stuff out, but most of the time when I hear about people detoxing it’s not in relation to ridding their entire system of mythical bad things, it usually means finding some way to drive out the built up crap in their. Particularly if you have a shitty diet.

Kevin said:

I mean isn’t it biology 101 that things from your food build up in there that if there long term are not good?

No, you’re thinking of Pseudoscience Nonsense 101. That doesn’t happen.

Just try that alli stuff. You’ll be flushed out in no time.

> alliâ„¢ works by preventing the absorption of some of the fat you eat. The fat passes out of your body, so you may have bowel changes, known as treatment effects. You may get:

• gas with oily spotting
• loose stools
• more frequent stools that may be hard to control

Alli gives you greasebuttpee.

Paris said:

John said:

Kevin said:

I mean isn’t it biology 101 that things from your food build up in there that if there long term are not good?

No, you’re thinking of Pseudoscience Nonsense 101. That doesn’t happen.

Should people not get colonoscopies, then? Is that not related?

It’s absolutely related. Multiple doctors have told me some variant on this same thing. That’s why it’s common sense that a diet high in fiber is good for you, particularly if you have high cholesterol.

I don’t want to give the impression I buy into all the detox nonsense that these pills and supplements and diets and all that claim because I do believe it is marketing bunk. On the other hand if you have a shitty diet that is deficient in certain types of foods, you’re not going to digest and flush as well as you should. It doesn’t mean your toxic or going to die or any of that, but it’s also not healthy to have too much waste built up in the intestine/colon/etc.

To buy into John’s dietary Ben Stein-esque crusade on this whole deal you’d have to believe that what you eat and what you put into your body has no impact at all on your health or your physical state of well being.

I don’t know if you both are referring to enemas, but coloscopies have little to do with detoxifying your GI tract. A coloscopy is a camera up the butt to look for serious issues like tumors or inflammation. An enema is when they flush our your bowels with water. The former is useful and are used by hospitals worldwide to diagnose problems. The latter is psuedoscience nonsense.

Kev, the way you were speaking before, it seemed like you were claimed that things build up and never come out. You specifically said, “on the long term.” Of course what you eat effects your health because you absorb the bad shit and your body processes it. This is bad. What does not happen is any sort of build up that needs to or can be flushed out. High fiber diets help the process, sure, and helps prevent constipation. But toxins or bad stuff does not build up and stay there. Eventually, your body will get rid of it naturally without the help of any stupid diets.

Giving your body a break from crappy food is an excellent idea. But we’re not talking about giving your body a break from crappy food. We’re talking about the friggin’ master cleanse.

And for the record, my issue with genetically modified food is the shit they’re doing to third world countries by turning annuals into perennials. I’m not concerned about their impact on my health.

I really do hope you realize that roughly 95% of what I say on here is to get you all riled up, thus amusing myself. If you don’t, then I need to stop so as to not make you hate me, but I just want to confirm that. Because yeah, ultimately I agree on all of this stuff.

That being said, I do think that being “backed up” so to speak is bad in that it affects a lot of other aspects of one’s health. If not directly or long term with things like cancer or all of that, then in terms of the domino effect of being bloated, clogged up, sluggish, then not having energy to excercise, feeling bad, etc. etc. So yeah, something like Master Cleanse is a ridiculous extreme. But for what Jay seems to be looking for, a day or so of say eating raw fruits and vegetables and with a lot of fiber and drinking a lot of water to give his system a rest and release the back up so to speak is beneficial and would maybe make him less sluggish and have a little more energy, etc. It won’t stop the being sick part of it, but if he has more energy, like you said can maybe excercise, sleep better, etc. I think it’s all intertwined.

alycia said:

Macrobiotics don’t have to wipe! They save their bodies and money and the environment because they spend less on toilet paper! Male macrobiotics don’t even need to buy the stuff anymore!

hahahahahah! Oh feed ‘em enough peanut butter and they’ll wish they’d bought some.