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Table of contents

I finished drinking my bottle first. I was the victor, but at what cost?

The Five Times I’ve (Literally) Shit My Pants

The next day I did think to myself, Fucking hell, Sam. That morning, I made a vow never to shit on an open fire again. When I was about 10, my family would vacation at a postcard-perfect campsite on a cliff overlooking the sea in the south of France.


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One night, I awoke with seafood coming back to life in my stomach. The urgency of the situation was obvious.


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I whipped on a T-shirt and some stripey briefs, then scrambled for some toilet paper and made a break through the pitch black campsite towards the distant glow of the communal toilet. As I bolted between tents, my gut performed lumbering somersaults. With my focus occupied on the psychic strain of compressing my internal sphincters, my foot caught on the tent, and I hit the deck hard. On impact, I instantly shit my pants.

The remainder of the walk was a slow, teary, squelchy one. My tighty-formerly-whities were bulging and hemorrhaging spurts of poop.

An inspection showed the tide of sludge had coated my little baby dick brown. I mopped myself up, cried, and scrunched up my tainted pantaloons. Disposing of the trace evidence was crucial. I bombed back to my tent and shotput-tossed the contaminated undies over the cliff and into the darkness.

The perfect crime. I awoke to my mum's humming, as she hung out the washing on the makeshift line between our tent and the chain link fence that separated us from the cliff face. To my horror, I spotted my undead briefs glaring back at me, dangling smugly from a bush in plain sight. The fuckers had come back to haunt me. She held them in her hands, looked at them for half a second, then without a fuss or so much as a word or a look, went and rid me of them once and for all. I was hosting a house party in college and everything was going swimmingly.

People were saying things like "nice party," and I was saying things like "thanks. It tends to transform me into a hunched, jittery, jabbering gorilla, wrestling my wayward motor functions. Not wanting to be a wet, ungrateful blanket, I accepted, despite the line looking a tad adventurous. In the toilet, I dwelled on an intriguing tile and promptly forgot the purpose of my visit.

The Five Times I’ve (Literally) Shit My Pants - VICE

As I left, with mind elsewhere, my sworn enemy—the shart—crept out of me from behind. Fuck , I thought. Then, realizing the potential of a steaming pant-full for weirding someone out, I reconsidered. I surveyed the crowd milling around, evaluating who would be the most deeply affected by the official announcement of my little bundle of joy. I locked eyes with some smooth guy who was peddling coke, casually leaning on a wall.

The kind of dude that just reclines, expression icy blank, nonchalantly soaking the party in, as if any proactive involvement in a party, or even a smile, would irretrievably fuck up their laid-back persona.

Introduction to "The Day I Shipped My Pants"

Like, loads. Trust me! An absence of toilet paper had me hobbling through the party and up to the third floor. To conceal my discomfort, I forced a bob to the music as unnatural and wooden as a private school boy at his first rave. I tensely negotiated meets and greets, hastily excusing myself before the stench had a chance to hit. The lack of a functioning light bulb had me washing up blind, adding another unwelcome layer of difficulty to an already gloomy and confusing process. And in the end, I drunkenly blabbed to enough people in confidence that word of my classified incident became common knowledge.

A stale, moderately-stabby house party led me and my friend to abandon ship for our unavoidable, regular dancing destination.

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We were good and drunk and pretty drugged up, but nowhere near enough to justify the events that unfolded in my pants. While pon de floor , it dawned on me that I needed to drop the kids off, so I cut through the crowd and headed for the toilet. Upon finding it closed, I just shrugged and forgot about it, since there was dancing to be had.

Another bomb of molly had us laying siege to the dance floor, and we set about getting our vigorous fucked-up wiggle on. The tunes were ringing out. I was adrift in the wonder of my own tingly, squirming enjoyment before coming to and slowly becoming aware of a separate, less tingly warmth residing in my butt crack.

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Fortunately kind of , I was drugged beyond the point of giving a shit. With no toilet available, I just continued throwing it down, limiting my range of hip motion and trademark footwork to preserve my fragile, unwanted gift. There was a lot of compensatory fist-pumping in play. I conducted all conversations with the opposite sex with my torso hunched in an attempt to widen the distance between their nostrils and my polluted undies, striving to avoid eye contact with my mate pissing himself figuratively in my peripherals.

About an hour later, the night came to a halt. We rose to see a mammoth, mean-looking dude pounding towards us, looking pretty intent on, and more than capable of, kicking the festering shit into me, and out of my mate, respectively. His long-range threats allowed us to begin soothing him from afar with apologetic gesturing and pilled-up earnestness. We shrewdly managed to dodge a beatdown, under the condition we fucked off immediately, without our wine. Once more he emerged, his rage heightened.

How Customer Service Helped Me $h!p My Pants

The commercial comically highlights the ease of shipping everything from pants to drawers to even beds. The play-on-words is brilliant. In just 2 weeks, the YouTube video has amassed 15 million views and 73, Likes. And they are only just starting to roll out their TV spots this week. That brings me to my next point.

Regardless of budget, if you have great content, people will do the work for you — thus is the case with this Kmart ad. Kmart is still open? The goal was to just create a funny, compelling commercial that promoted the service. I actually found that statement quite sad.

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If any other big-box retailer like Kmart had an idea for an ad like this, they would have recognized its huge potential to go viral. Hopefully this momentum kicks all the higher ups at Kmart in the ass and shows them that they should never give up — that the success of any company relies on its ability to adapt to the changing environment. One day you can be the top dog, the next day you can be at the bottom of the pit — and vice versa.

Take for example K-Swiss and their viral ads that used comedian Kenny Powers. The video used profanity that no other major brand had ever dared to use, and put K-Swiss top-of-mind again for consumers.