Ebony Shit Eating

Ebony Shit Eating

Black Girl Eating
I eat out. A lot.

What to Wear: Stretchy jeans, a loose sweater and a big pair of hoop earrings. You know, gentrification, but *a part of it*.
Guilt Element: Good lattes that can rival a cup of black.
Soundtrack: Muffled hipster shit in the background and Childish Gambino on the headphones.
And do you see this stoneware? Love.
What to wear: Your too bothered to really dress hipster near a college campus best.
Soundtrack: St. Louis’ own Angela Winbush – “Angel”

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What to wear: Something all glow in the dark so that you have a light source.
Sounds like: Experimental Mariachi Music. No. Really.
Vegetariano: One option. Vegans, you’ll have rice.
Guilt Element : You deserve better for being in Tuscon.
Restrooms: Not gender neutral and I guess the decor budget stopped at the dining room?
Accessibility : All the floors fairly even with ramps, the menu, however, is hand written on a chalk board.
I’ve been slacking on writing about my food travels. Not that I haven’t eaten out, but that I have been eating out unintentionally. But it’s conference season so IT’S TIME TO EAT. Out, that is. I’m here in Tuscon, Arizona for a conference at The University of Arizona so clearly, my eating has a purpose.
So let me tell you about Tuscon: NOBODY TOLD ME ABOUT TUSCON. Y’all, being an hour from the border has its benefits. I miss Sonoran Mexican food and Tuscon is all about it, I swear NOTHING I have had here (yet) as been less than stellar. I will do another write up on a restaurant I visited three times in my short stay here. (Two of them in one day.) But right now and on today Cafe Poca Cosa.
So this place is swanky and I am wearing mall Mom tights with the lace and my favorite Pom Pom shoes. I’m also here alone (as usual) this is definitely a date spot. The atmosphere is lovely with low sexy lighting, a monochrome color pallet, silver cushioned chairs and a pretty pricy menu.
When you come here and things feel a little bit of a mystery, know that the menu is coming. Changed daily and presented on a little chalkboard by your waiter. I’d already attacked most of the amazing chips and salsa a server placed in front of me lot long after sitting down. I was able to order a drink. A margarita called “el fuego” that was served in a martini glass to my chagrin, but after one sip, I completely understood why.
So what did I get? Not that it matters because by the time you get here it won’t be here. I got chef’s choice. A mystery selection of three of the items on the menu. This is a choice of serious consequence for your sister who is journeying out of vegetarianism. So imma be honest. I don’t remember what I got but this is what it looks like.
Y’all this is the most pretentious Mexican food experience I have ever had.
I chose the chefs choice because meat on menus still freak me out. It was a good choice because I think I would have been mad at any one of these options alone. Together, it allowed for a varied food experience with a ton of flavors. The chicken dish was dressed in a mole sauce that still had whole peanuts peaking through. Weird. And it flared up my allergies. There were two beef dishes otherwise, one with a verde sauce that was a kind of shredded beef dish and other skirt steak dish in a verde sauce.
While being this pretentious you would think that the tortillas would be better than store bought.
Am I supposed to be impressed that you put corn in my otherwise bland white rice?
All in all, bring a shallow date to this place for dick discounts but if you’re wanting to feel like your having a pocket to mouth worthy experience go to one of these Mom and Pop joints. Much more flavorful, much more honest, deeper drinks, and many more options.
I’m sorry that I even did this. I feel defensive for Tuscon.By no means should you get the impression that the food here isn’tgood. It’s a decent place. Just not worth the bougie ass sensibility.
Restroom: Gender neutral. Clean, cute actually with community posts.

I love posting up in coffee shops, but like many coffee shop writers I usually have to make the decision between good food or good coffee. No one can survive a writing day on pastries and good coffee and life is too short for bad coffee. Empire doesn’t force me to make such decisions. I had the Cayenne Mocha which creates an unexpected kick at the back of the throat. It’s a delicious mocha meaning good chocolate, not too sweet, and you can taste the espresso. And that is what I dig about this place, they are very good about their coffee, and quite serious about it too. I could get away with having a drip coffee and have quite a delicious experience. Empire has drips, espresso and some other format of coffee every day and they rotate the beans used for each method. Usually there is a Colombian and an Ethiopian as options.
This place could make a killing on their pressed sandwiches alone. They have a happy hour with $2.50 grilled cheeses, beer and wine. I had the Vegan Panini my first time here, which featured a Field Roast breakfast sausage, house-made basil pesto, tomato, vegan cheese. On my next trip, my adulterous pescatarian sensibilities were tested and I got the waffle sandwich, missing the glaring inclusion of ham in the fried egg and provolone cheese stack folded inside a freshly made waffle. This time I made an obnoxious request to have the two sandwiches fused replacing the ham with Seattle’s own Field Roast. The sandwich comes with a side of pure maple syrup to dip like au jus. After the waffle sandwich is stacked, it is pressed like panini so the provolone oozes out and creates a gooey delicious mess. Hella decadent. They do have yummy pastries including muffins, scones, and donuts.
I was in St. Louis on a personal trip and spent the day at a nearby cafe that boasted gooey butter cake. That is a different post for a different time. Planter’s House attracted me because of their amazing bourbon list. I picked it because it seemed to have some of the most INTERESTING dishes in a mile radius and was open until 11pm. Still engrossed in my laptop around the corner I peeped the menu online and headed over around 8pm on a Sunday evening.
I reallllly wanted to get Bourbon and for sure this post would be much more interesting if I had it, but… restraint. I needed to drive 12 miles in the winter night and this place is totally new to me. Don’t drink and drive kids. But they also have mezcal so…
The uhm… liquid refreshment options left more room in my imaginary on the spot created budget to get an appetizer and main course and court the idea of desert. (The bourbon I had my eye on cost more than all three) so I got the Harissa Chickpeas which reminded me that I absolutely love dried chickpeas and hadn’t made them for myself in a while. Seasoning these little bites means a ton of sodium unfortunately.
I smashed these suckers rather quickly. The harissa flavor was exquisite and had just enough kick to give the chickpeas ample savory goodness. They made it less salty than I make at home with garam masala spices which was a revelation. The crunch outside allows for you to hold them in your hand but they are soft in the middle as dry chickpeas should be. No one should lose teeth to find this happiness.
For my main course I got the Mac and cheese with fried kale. I generally don’t trust restaurants to make my mac and cheese. I’m pretty strict about what counts as edible mac and cheese and the purist in me is disappointed. Maybe if they called it something else?
All shade and purism aside this pasta and cheese dish was pretty good. Elbow macaroni shells with goat cheese and pecorino. The goat cheese is presented as a center sliver which I am sure that I was supposed to mix in myself but I mean…. not enough for my cheesy greedy self so I ate it with the few bits of Mac underneath. Pecorino was throughout though not enough and the fried kale is indeed fried kale and had me in the mind of nori in the way that it was scattered on top of the dish. That would have been more flavorful really. I suppose it was there to add a different kind of crunch. Texturally, fantastic idea. I’m generally not here to hate. Try it. Don’t say that I didn’t tell you what was up. Waste of lactaid TBH.
I didn’t get dessert because the only non-cooked fruit option had peanuts.*
*I guess I should admit it now. Wow… it’s sooner than I thought it would be.
I don’t like cooked fruit deserts. Most of them anyway. There are a few exceptions like bananas royal. It’s a texture thing and I try, really I do.
Anyway, this isn’t the time for this judgement of my not-very-adult dessert palette.

281527.MarcialAntonio.GalindoRodrguez 14 Sep 2010
417800.Ritabrata.Karmakar 28 May 2016

If You Think Eating Shit is Wrong, Then You Are a Bad Person
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What does it mean to love? And why shouldn’t everyone be allowed to let those sparks warm their heart? I thought I felt this way. I thought that I could hear anyone’s desire and immediately accept that what they wanted from another person would be considered valid. But I was wrong. It turned out that I was just as bad as any republican.
I met them on yik yak while probing into the seedy underbelly of the anonymous sex world. I wanted to find out why this was such a pervasive desire. I also wanted to get laid. But when I met them I felt I had struck a gold mine. They messaged me on kik, with the username toiletmouth, and they wanted to have someone shit in their mouth.
I was baffled by the thought that someone in our community could have the hunger, I asked myself, how did this hit our hometown? Why us?! Is it this pervasive liberalism that has diseased the community? I felt religion flooding back into my skin and knew that the rapture had come. But I was wrong.
There was only ever one scene in a novel that was so vile for me that I almost couldn’t make it through it. It was in Gravity’s Rainbow ,
“She turns, ‘Hold up my fur.’ . . . ‘Be careful, don’t touch my skin.’ Her intestines whine softly . . . A dark turd appears out the crevice, out of the absolute darkness between her white buttocks . . . he leans forward to surround the hot turd with his lips, sucking on it tenderly, licking along its lower side . . . The stink of shit floods his nose, gathering him, surrounding. . . The turd slides into his mouth, down to his gullet. He gags, but bravely clamps his teeth shut.”
I could feel it, I could smell it, and I had to escape it. The turd mixed with the slime of my throat and vomit building in pressure against the back. Pynchon had pulled Two Girls One Cup from the maw of low culture and had placed it in my precious novel. But in that immersion I also grew more comfortable with it. Someone eating shit had made its first entrance into my mind and in some way I had already began to grow comfortable with it.
I quickly found myself uninformed on the subject of poop eating. I assumed they had a fetish. I said that a fetish is something that a person sexualizes that is abnormal to standard sexual practice, but they explained to me otherwise, “a fetish is something which a person necessarily sexualizes, which they cannot achieve satisfaction without.” I was skeptical and still am skeptical on the idea of a person needing what they fetishize to achieve sexual satisfaction, but I do think that my original assumption of what a fetish should be was wrong. It did lead me further into the inquiry of the difference between fetishes and kinks.
Trying to find out whether it was a fetish or kink I began searching the internet. Googling “coprophagia” or “poop eating” you’ll quickly find a wikipedia article on the subject with the quote, “In humans, coprophagia has been observed in individuals with mental illness.” This is the first line that talks about people who eat poop and it immediately associates this poop eating with mental illness, delegitimizing the act. But if one reads close it’s hidden in there that the act isn’t necessarily a result of mental illness. I didn’t want this though. I wanted to learn about Coprophagia as an action, I wanted to learn about the community around this kink, but there was nothing. As Scaruffi says in his essay Wikipedia As a Force for Evil , “the popularity of Wikipedia is de facto obliterating all the alternative sources that one could use to doublecheck Wikipedia articles.” Wikipedia becomes a source for the dominant ideology to control the base. Moving on to coprophilia, or the paraphilia of feces, we see that coprophilia is strictly defined by Wikipedia in terms of the Diagnostics and Statistics Manual of Mental Disorders — once again defining the act of eating poop as a mental disorder — with the only criteria being that someone partakes in it, suggesting nothing abnormal other than a social taboo as justification.
In Foucault’s History of Sexuality Vol. 1 he presents for the first time the idea of Biopower, which is the use of a dominant system — the nation state — to use diverse techniques to subjugate the individuals, particularly through the use of ideology. In this case the ideology that we want to bring into question is the scat taboo. We must question why this taboo is in place and why we should isolate individuals who eat poop. Why do we suppress them?
Rather than thinking about things in the abstract, I wanted to just know what toiletmouth’s thoughts were. So I asked them directly, “Why do you want people to poop in your mouth?” They said, “Well the post was a joke but I mean if someone does actually want to poop in my mouth it’s something at least worth trying at least once” I thought it was ridiculous how benignly they placed themselves in relation to poop.
But it’s not. Someone should be allowed to place themselves in a casual manner to feces, just like people should be allowed to place themselves in casual relation to partners of the same sex. So I decided to ask them if it gets them off and they said, “Yeah, I mean the thought does. I don’t know if the act would which is why I’m willing to try. There is definitely an appeal to the idea of being so submissive to a person that I am literally a waste receptacle to them. There is also just the taboo nature of it. Even without the power dynamic there is something interesting about playing with something so generally considered to be dirty and private.”
In posterity I’m glad that they wanted to talk to me and that they continued talking to me for so long, especially when I was just treating them as a resource for my own gain. I am eating from the trash can all the time, but now maybe, I can eat shit instead. I am free to dream of shit swirling in my mouth, like a delicious cocktail.
Moving along, I asked them if they had ever tried shit or if this would be their first time, I also asked them if they were afraid of vomiting, “I have tried poop, I don’t think that’s a guarantee against vomiting though. I don’t think there would necessarily be a problem with vomiting, I mean a person is already pooping in my mouth. How much different is it from rimming? I mean I’ve eaten ass that isn’t clean before and if anything it was more hot than if they were clean.” At this point I was feeling more comfortable with talking to them finding that they were so willing to just spill the beans. I continued pestering them, pushing them harder. I asked four consecutive questions in a row on the tiny screen I hastily typed on, “Do you have any fetishes? Are you in Kink Positive? Are you just really into submission? What is your gender?” I had to know, but out of nowhere toiletmouth turned my questioning back against me, “Your aggressive questioning makes me not want to talk to you.” This was the point that the glass had shattered. This whole time I had believed toiletmouth to be the sicko, the vile creature, but it was me, I had overbearingly pushed myself into their life, their fetish and turned it into a game for myself. I felt like a piece of shit. They were so polite and so willing to speak to me, but I betrayed their trust by unrelentingly bombarding them with questions. I apologized, telling them I was sorry, that I was just fascinated and excited to speak to someone about this, I felt like Plato, stepping out of the cave. I made sure that they knew I wasn’t judging them and in that moment I knew I could say that in earnest. My eyes were open.
I asked them a few more questions about domination and submission, about shit in general. In the final texts I told them they should write their thesis on this, they responded with an LOL and I knew that I had made a friend in that moment. The last thing they asked was if I had any fetishes, so I responded, but today I’m still waiting for the sent in the bottom corner of the message to change to read so this conversation can continue.
Student-run journalistic publication. For New College by New College.

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24 Pictures For Your Dirty Mind

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"Haha! That's what you get for being attractive and unattainable by me!" - typical EBW user

Arg... the laws of physics be a harsh mistress

#12 It probably wasn't even her car.

Errr yeah, pretty sure #9 is an absolute monster!

It's much safer in the kitchen-- making sammiches!

I guess "hot" is subjective, but #5 made me laugh my ass off.

And why were they all being filmed in the first place? Either because they like they attention or because these are staged.

#14 doc said they had to give her vag 2 weeks to heal before they consummate.

#15 Good thing she landed on that massive fivehead. She could have really hurt herself.

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