Celebrity Fudge - Volume 2

Another installment from the excremental musings of Guster's 2002 road journal.

September 7, 2002 - The Richmond show was on one of those islands they have floating in the middle of the river downtown. We were playing on "Brown's Island" this time and isn't that just appropriate because once again there was nowhere to shit. That's right, it's another poop-themed entry! Go ahead and avert your eyes now if you're still recovering from the last one.
This time the port-o-potty was the only option. There was no plumbing on the island. So the only real choice to be made was between the three port-o-potties backstage.





And even though it was the only occupied one, I waited for The Blue Room. Never before had I encountered such an enormous port-o-potty! I figured it was probably air-conditioned and maybe there was even a dude standing in there with a towel and a bowl of mints. I went and got my book.

The inside wasn't as luxurious as I'd imagined it'd be. Like other port-o-potties I'd used in the past, it was pretty much a hot stinky closet where people pile shit on top of shit. There was no towel dude and no bowl of mints, but there was a cigarette butt on the floor and a few flies buzzing around my head, waiting for me to shit so they could eat it. However it was spacious, and there was a bit of a breeze, and it didn't smell nearly as bad as they usually do. So I let myself get lost in Larry McMurtry's tale of cowboys driving cattle out west and the next thing I knew I was on page 600 in Lonesome Dove and I'd spent four hours in The Blue Room!




Yes, I had the digital camera in the port-o-potty with me, but NO I didn't take any pictures of what was in The Hole. You're all sick people! If you want to see that kind of stuff you can just visit www.ratemypoo.com anyway.