The Art of the Buddy Poop

Sorry I haven't posted for a while. Hockey is on hiatus right now, and I haven't had much to say.

Well, the other day I was taking a large dump. It was a lonely dump, in a public bathroom, with a vacant stall to my left. I found myself wishing I had somebody to talk to. There's nothing like poppin a squat and relaxing for a good ol' Jay Bouwmeester, with a lad next door to chirp with. That's where I got the idea to make this post.

The buddy poop is an extremely integral part of any legit hockey club. There is a reason that one of the first things you hear when you get to the road barn is "Hey lads I gotta go drop one, anyone down for a buddy poop?" Like clockwork, 3 or 4 teammates are ready to join you in this righteous bonding experience. Granted, this could cause an issue, as the number of toilets vs. the number of buddies might not be even.

Once it gets strategically decided who the odd buddy out is, the lads all embark on their mission. What happens during a buddy poop is a thing of beauty. There is certainly no embarrassment in any stall. If Sully's stall sounds like a war zone, Joey is right next door rooting him on. Even if Joey's dump is about as weak as a 4th grader's. During the poop, the lads will talk about whatever they please, from American politics to the new graphic on the Natty Light can. Generally, everyone always throws in a fat Brian Rafalski to get the dung a-flowin. Nothin like a ripper to get those bowels moving.

Next, I'd like to touch on the cardinal rule of the buddy poop: Never leave a buddy behind. If you finish your dump, and you hear your buddy still firing away, DO NOT START WIPING. The last thing you want to do is make a buddy feel rushed during a shit. Sit down and relax, maybe get the heavy stuff off if need be. Walk in as a team, walk out as a team. This is why the buddy flush is generally in beautiful unison.

Before I retire, I'd like to recollect my first ever exposure to the buddy poop. Junior year or high school, school ended at 2:30 and practice didn't start until 4:30. Most of the lads would just go straight to the rink and order a pizza or something and hang out until the locker room got open at about 4. While waiting for the pizza, guess what happened? A buddy poop. Or a group poop. This was perfect too, because our barn had 10 stalls. No one was ever left behind. It became such a tradition, that every one of us had our own designated stall that we dumped in every single time. A true thing of beauty.

So next time you think about how pooping should be a private thing, remember the hockey player, sitting in the stall with a fat salse in the bottom lip, trying to outfart his teammate the next stall over, chirping about how uncomfortable the middle-aged guy that just came in to take a quick piss is at the fact that 2 dudes are shitting and talking, just having an all out amazing bonding experience.

I'm gonna try to get an interview with a W&J Defect here soon.