Anecdote submitted by Scott in San Diego (already feeling good that this won't be a Southern bashing story!):

Here's a true-life experience for you, and I've never told a soul before - you'll soon see why.

Picture this: honeymoon with my new wife, all-inclusive beautiful resort, enjoying the tropical island paradise.

Have a fabulous seafood dinner the third or fourth night. Everything is going swell so far, right?

Wrong. I wake up and it's already light out, but I feel like something is horribly amiss and I also feel sick to my stomach. After a few minutes of laying there and trying to orient myself, I realize I feel something mucky in the sheets. Yeah, I POOPED myself in my sleep. I will spare you further details, but it was like I was laying in a pool of poop. I didn't know what to do, and my wife wasn't awake yet so I had a few minutes to contemplate my options....all the while trying to get out of bed as quickly as possible without waking her up. Thankfully, I could see she hadn't been touched by the ick. This was going to be a rude awakening, and I wanted to die right then and there.

I cleaned myself up and practiced the words, "Honey, wake up but don't move an inch, k?"

And this is why I'm married to the woman: she woke up, realized what was going on, and didn't say anything other than, "are you feeling ok?" She directed me to take the sheets off the bed and throw them in the shower, and I did the messy clean-up as best as possible without touching anything. I felt too sick to do anything for two days, but thankfully was always near a bathroom when nature called from that point forward.

It was horrible. You want to talk about mortifying? What a way to start off a marriage! "Honey! I almost pooped on you! Good morning!"