Apparently, there was/is some sort of competition centered on "who can take the largest dump" among a circle of professional athletes. Most of the participants were NFL players and PGA golfers. I do not believe Najeh Davenport was involved. This contest actually had RULES that had been DISCUSSED and VOTED on by members. The main statute was that the "entity" had to cross the water line, or some (I want to use the word that fits here, but I can't) nonsense like that. When one member of the circle produced a worthy effort, a cell phone picture of the item would then be captured and distributed to all participants in the club. The substance was then ranked on a tornado scale from F1 to F5 by all members. F5 represented the most intense deliveries, apparently a reference to the barn scene in "Twister" when Helen "Pinched Face" Hunt and her weather boy were staked down in a barn and their bodies endured incredibly violent winds.
So I discovered this secret society at the end of our third date. As my date strode out of the bathroom, he was starting at his cell phone in rapture. He handed me his cell phone as he sat down, providing no context as to what I was about to observe. So when I first glanced at the picture, I had to really peer at it to comprehend what I was looking at … and when realization set in, I started shaking my head violently, literally throwing the phone at him across the table. I thought he was presenting me a snapshot of the intestinal sculpture he had just carved out … at a white tablecloth steakhouse where they offer you black napkins if you're wearing black (which is a thoughtful gesture). And I'm sitting there stunned, wondering how the hell he went from "kind of boring" to THIS in one bathroom trip. I thought he was the most fucked-up human being I had ever encountered.
And then he stated, completely straight-faced, "Favre just dropped an F-5."