So every time I get ready to head to the beach to surf my large intestine feels the need to squeeze every once of accumulated waste product out. Usually I have to stop at some gas station on the way as well. x2 or x3 sometimes.What is the deal with that. Am I the only one whose body decides that is a good time to clean out ?
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Thread: Before surfing;
Nov 7, 2012, 11:22 PM #1
yeah dude, its known amongst surfers. i think its because of that pre-surf adrenaline doing something to your body.
Are you anxious???? Maybe we could start another aqua bomb thread!!!
Skimdog, That could be a real issue up in rural Maine; luckly there are plenty of bushes to choose from.
If your drinking coffee or smoking a cigarette on the way that's your answer.
Nov 8, 2012, 01:48 AM #6
coffee yeah lol. Glad im not some freak and it happens to others.
Nov 8, 2012, 04:25 AM #7
Coffee is a laxative. Drink your coffee(Irish), smoke yer medicine (I got the pains in my arse, it's prescribed), drop ta deuce, eat a granola bar n then paddle out.
If you can't handle the high stay off the drugs man. Back when coffe was illegal, this guy, the Honorable Ballsack, I mean the Honoré d'Balzac wrote a great essay bout how to get wired on the black beans:
"Finally, I have discovered a horrible, rather brutal method that I recommend only to men of excessive vigor, men with thick black hair and skin covered with liver spots, men with big square hands and legs shaped like bowling pins. It is a question of using finely pulverized, dense coffee, cold and anhydrous, consumed on an empty stomach. This coffee falls into your stomach, a sack whose velvety interior is lined with tapestries of suckers and papillae. The coffee finds nothing else in the sack, and so it attacks these delicate and voluptuous linings; it acts like a food and demands digestive juices; it wrings and twists the stomach for these juices, appealing as a pythoness appeals to her god; it brutalizes these beautiful stomach linings as a wagon master abuses ponies; the plexus becomes inflamed; sparks shoot all the way up to the brain. From that moment on, everything becomes agitated. Ideas quick-march into motion like battalions of a grand army to its legendary fighting ground, and the battle rages. Memories charge in, bright flags on high; the cavalry of metaphor deploys with a magnificent gallop; the artillery of logic rushes up with clattering wagons and cartridges; on imagination's orders, sharpshooters sight and fire; forms and shapes and characters rear up; the paper is spread with ink - for the nightly labor begins and ends with torrents of this black water, as a battle opens and concludes with black powder."
Which basically means he was spooning, espresso-grind, raw into his gullet. It's a great read, you can find it here:The Pleasures and Pains of Coffee.
I'm down to only 3 20oz mugs myself these days not counting the green tea.