Ask Lemmy
A Fediverse community for open-ended, thought provoking questions
Please don't post about US Politics.
Rules: (interactive)
1) Be nice and; have fun
Doxxing, trolling, sealioning, racism, and toxicity are not welcomed in AskLemmy. Remember what your mother said: if you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all. In addition, the site-wide Lemmy.world terms of service also apply here. Please familiarize yourself with them
2) All posts must end with a '?'
This is sort of like Jeopardy. Please phrase all post titles in the form of a proper question ending with ?
3) No spam
Please do not flood the community with nonsense. Actual suspected spammers will be banned on site. No astroturfing.
4) NSFW is okay, within reason
Just remember to tag posts with either a content warning or a [NSFW] tag. Overtly sexual posts are not allowed, please direct them to either [email protected] or [email protected].
NSFW comments should be restricted to posts tagged [NSFW].
5) This is not a support community.
It is not a place for 'how do I?', type questions.
If you have any questions regarding the site itself or would like to report a community, please direct them to Lemmy.world Support or email [email protected]. For other questions check our partnered communities list, or use the search function.
Reminder: The terms of service apply here too.
Partnered Communities:
Logo design credit goes to: tubbadu
view the rest of the comments
Here's a story I haven't told because it doesn't have a point, it was just an odd experience, and it involves pooping. Don't say you weren't warned.
One time, I was camping at my land near the shore off Lake Michigan. It was a really windy day, gusting over 30 knots, so I walked down the road to the town park on the shore to see the waves. That's where it hit me, the need to go, now. There was no question of walking back to my camp.
But that was no big deal, the park has a porta-potty, so I availed myself of it. The unusual part was that this particular brand is up on blocks, and has a grate for a floor. With the howling wind blowing in off of the lake, it would gust up through the floor. The toilet paper was flapping around wildly. Tree leaves were swirling through the air around me. The light turned a surreal green as it filtered through the plastic walls. It felt like pooping in a cash-grab booth in the Twilight Zone.
And, uh, this was a big one. It felt like it kept going and going for some time. All the while, the wind kept screaming, the TP was going mad, and leaves were pelting me.
When it was done, I had to catch the toilet paper, and then walk back holding my shorts up, because they were now too loose.
This feels heavily exaggerated, but in a good way. Bravo.