A 40 minute shit in a King Soopers bathroom.

I am convinced that there is nothing like being constipated. The gas pains, the general cleanliness of the facility you're in, the wracking near-constant terror that you're going to puke your guts out all provide a such a tapestry of thought that the mind scrapes its inner reserves for something, anything, else to think about. Trivial things like "that stall door is blue" are easily repulsed by the latest gastronomic response to that large bowl of spaghetti duking it out with the burrito. More important concepts, like "oh man I'm leaving [that person] standing around in the frozen foods section waiting for a ride home" or "oh man my car is almost out of gas where is the nearest station" tend to last longer but generally meld into the background noise behind "OH SWEET MER'CIFUL LORD IF THIS IS BUT A FRACTION OF THE PAIN OF CHILDBIRTH I SHALL TAKE IT UPON MYSELF NE'ER TO IMPREGNATE ANOTHER" (not that there is a high demand for my services as a baby instigator, mind). So, you may find yourself hesitant to ask, what exactly does stick in your mind in such a situation?

Everything.

Well, not really. Human brains don't fit infinities inside themselves very well (hell they're lucky to fit in a planet), and mine is no different. The best that can be achieved is a "every-thing/one/place I have ever seen/known/been" sort of deal. I just wanted to clarify that there are no external sources channeling the whole sum of universal knowledge into my head while I shit. That, would be silly. But it is definitely a state of mind that is drastically different from normal operating parameters, almost transcendic; a word I probably made up and used incorrectly at the same time. A state where you look at what you know of the world and laugh, because you have to. Most of your glands are too tied up sweating to cry about it.