Winter sports have one thing in common. Layers. Mittens and long johns may protect us from the icy elements, but they make pooping a real obstacle course. But nothing goes together better than winter sports and stories about snowy-season sh*ts.
Cue: the sh*ttiest winter poop stories the web has to offer. From ski troubles to Stanley cup stories, we’ve assembled a laugh-a-minute catalog of hot winter sport poo tales for you to enjoy on the ski lift.
Skiing: Bowls and Bowels
This mountain tale hails from Deadspin. When diarrhea hits halfway up the mountain, what’s a teen to do? Short story, rip trou. But we’ll let born storyteller and BM disaster Chris D. tell it his way:
I went to high school in West Virginia, the flabby armflap of America. It sucked. The one thing I did for fun though was ski, and I skied a lot…
Well one day I'm out on the mountain skiing having a grand ol' time when the urge to shit hits me on the lift. My stomach had been hurting for a while due to eating high school cafeteria pizza and sneaking shots of Jameson from some kids flask on the bus ride up. Well once I get off the lift and start skiing I feel better, this always happens- moving around and stuff takes your mind off of how bad you need to shit. I decide I can do another run before going in and going through the arduous task of taking off all my layers to shit.
I get back on the lift and not even half way up I'm starting to feel it, churning, it comes in waves, I'm breathing heavy, I tell my friends that I really need to go and they try to talk me through it as if I was having a baby or something. I see the end coming and I'm ready to fly down the mountain as quick as I can. And then it happens. The lift comes to a dead stop. I look down, consider jumping.. it's close to 30ft. F*CK!
I am now almost in tears from the pain of holding in the liquid fire in my bowels. Slowly but surely it begins to seep out, every time I breathe a little more and a little more. I'm sitting there in it, my friends can smell it. It smells like someone microwaving KFC they found in the garbage. They're trying to strike a balance between laughing and gagging.
Finally- the lift starts back up. I then start skiing down, I can feel the warmth oozing down my legs through my thermals, forming small pools behind my legs in my boots. As I ski down the mountain, still trying to hold shit in, it keeps squirting out every time I hit a bump or have to turn quickly.
Then some little kid cuts me off and I take a nasty spill, and I mean nasty, I let loose a 3 to 4 second spray. Snow and ice go up my jacket and down my pants. The shit/fake WV snowblower snow mixture in my pants feels like warm sandpaper. It takes close to 25 minutes to finish the run and my ass is now wet and cold, but I finally make it down and waddle through the lodge to the bathroom.
I am wearing boxers under my thermals but at this point they are just shit-pasted together. It's so nasty and sticky that I basically had to cut my boxers off... I can finally let the rest out. I'm sitting there completely naked from the waste down and the sounds coming out of my body made everyone else stop what they were doing and I was asked several times if I was ok. Finally after all was done and my asshole burned like the rage of 1000 golf club wielding swedish supermodels scorned (what I would have given to have a bowl of ice cream to sit in), I got up and observed my work. It looked like someone had been brewing coffee in that toilet. There was zero visibility in that bowl and the smell was so bad it gave the air texture. Luckily most of the devil slime was contained to my thermals that now looked like an orangy-brown shit sponge. I put my ski pants back and sprinted from the room hiding my face with my scarf leaving all my shit rags laying in the floor for some unlucky bastard. I freeballed the rest of the evening- which fucking sucks when skiing, a bad mixture of freezing and chaffing. I didn't get the shit smell out of my boots for weeks.
A saga that begs the question: can you believe we let teenagers drive? But glad this reader lived to share this absolutely gnarly story.
Defiling The Stanley Cup
Hockey’s greatest prize is a stunning silver cup. But if we’re going by the smell of hockey locker rooms, well, hockey is gross? Jk, but hockey legend has it that Stanely has been absolutely defiled on no fewer than 15 occasions. Here are our two fave tales:
Storied center Kris Draper of the Detroit Red Wings brought the cup to Michigan on four different occasions throughout his career. When he won the cup in 2008, the hockey legend also had a newborn daughter to help him celebrate. When he placed his baby girl in the famed hockey trophy, well -- she pooped. And the poop… spread. But this didn’t put a pause on festivities. Said the hockey star: “She pooped in the Cup. We had a pretty good laugh. I still drank out of it that night, so no worries." Yikes! Tradition holds that all Stanley Cup winners drink from the cup, so we hope they used more than a wet wipe.
If you can believe, 2008 was not the first record of the Stanley Cup being defiled. When the New York Rangers won the championship in 1940, well… The first part of the story is a little blurry, but hockey’s oral history says the cup ended up on fire! Without a fire extinguisher in sight, the Rangers did what came natural: they pissed on the cup. Apparently the spirit of Stanley didn’t appreciate the golden shower. This team piss fountain preceded a 54-year drought, and the Rangers didn’t reclaim the trophy again until 1994.
Winter Olympic Poo
Of course, the summer Olympics have had their share of poop stories. But for a snowy Olympic poo story, we turn to famed figure skater and Olympic hero Adam Rippon. In 2018, the bronze medalist confessed that he gets bad anxiety poops. Yes, before he won bronze in PyeongChang, Rippon was ripping toilet with nervous browns. Said the Olympian: “Embrace your nervous sh*ts. Every hour on the hour I am taking a nervous sh*t until I compete. It’s a cross I have to bear.”
While Adam is the only winter Olympian who has spoken openly about wrecking toilet bowls before hitting the rink, we know every Olympic village has to be anxiety sh*t central. If any world class athletes feel inspired to share their championship poop stories, our DMs are open.
Happily Ever Ass-ter
As with so many of our favorite stories, let’s close with a happy ending. Even the roughest, poorly timed poo can be cleaned. Tomorrow is always a new day, where we can climb the mountain with a fresh ass and high hopes. If you want to make a cleaner booty part of your winter routine, skate on over to peak at TUSHY’s bidet attachments.