Definitely TMI

Okay, here's a minor annoyance, especially in comparison with what people I love have been up against lately, but it's mine and it's gross and I'm going to write about it anyway.  I've warned you twice now right here up front not to read this, so any disgusting images it may leave in your imagination are no longer my responsibility.  I've been looking for a chance to vent about this since yesterday afternoon, and have had my thoughts rightly elsewhere, but now I'm going to let loose:

I just hate it when I start getting intestinal rumblings somewhere when I don't have the luxury of just releasing the flatus that's causing it, so the pressure keeps building up until I'm out of the restrictive environment, but then it becomes apparent that I still can't release because there's more than simply gas in the, er, evacuation path, so I make my way hurriedly to a commode where I ungird myself and quickly sit in anticipation of the relief that is finally so near, and relax my sphincter, only the solid fecal matter present in my rectum intestinum is propelled so forcefully by the pressure of the flatus behind it that it becomes a projectile into the water in the commode, which then splashes disgustingly all over, well, all of my downward facing anatomy, covering my nether parts with the water laden with all of the bacteria accumulated from the waste of however many people have used this fixture since it was last disinfected - an especially disconcerting thought when I've been forced to use a public facility; after all, this never seems to happen at home where it would be more convenient - which then remains on the skin of my private parts until I become certain that I'm not going to need to repeat the process of wiping it off due to another similar expulsion; the eventual cleaning up of the disgusting mess requires a copious amount of toilet tissue and makes me wish that the custom of the bidet was more widespread in our culture as I always feel still contaminated and germ-laden, and I must then hug the bacteria to myself by re-girding with my clothes, after which I can wash my hands but usually not my loins.

Ugh.