Hello 
I'm Siobhan Curran/Kisa Naumova, and this is my weblog. I tend to write about stuff like crossdressing, Macs, code, cats, wine and Second Life, but in general it's just an ongoing conversation about all sorts of stuff. If you'd like to know a little bit more about what this all is, I recommend starting on this page which has a little bit of info on who I am, and what I'm trying to do — or you could dive into my five years worth of archives if you like.
Otherwise, feel free to close this box and explore...
Poo!
It's not that this little scatalogical episode was the highlight of my weekend — far from it — it's just that it was one of the most bizarre little things to have happened to me for a while. I'm still trying to get my head around it...
I've been down Hitchin way for the past couple of days, getting extravagently drunk and frocked-up with the lovely Caity. Aside from the growing realisation that I really ought not to get so drunk so quickly, so that I'm actually useful for later things, I had a great time and haven't laughed so much for ages.
But I digress, away from the poo.
Yesterday afternoon, we went for a couple (4) of pints in a couple (2) of pubs nearby, then called into Waitrose¹ for booze on the way back. The veggie burgers we'd had earlier though, had rapidly worked their way through my system, so I legged it to the toilet while Caity filled a trolley with exotic beer.
Now, I'm not (as you know) all that used to veggie food, being a red-blooded carnivore primarily, so my guts weren't really prepared for that many chillies, and what I thought was going to be a quick Number Twos turned into an elongated² and deeply satisfying shit.
Outside the cubicle (of which there was only one) though, I could hear someone else in the loo, but they seemed to be OK and just using the urinal. Suddenly though, they did an enormous fart — one that resonated through the flimsy cubicle walls and shook the porcelain I was plonked on like an earthquake³.
"Blimey", I thought, and quickly finished my 'doings' in fear of a wave of obnoxious gas heading my way, pausing only to nod in that "we're both blokes in a toilet, but let's not dwell on it mate" way that you do to the guy who it now appeared had been waiting to 'sit down'.
It was only when Caity and I were walking out of the shop that she told me what she'd seen when she went in after me.
It hadn't been a fart.
He'd shat in the urinal 
¹ They're dead posh down south.
² The time was elongated, not the shit. That would have been gross.
³ Not really, it just seemed a nice way to describe the fart.
