(not so) white shirt
Many years ago, I worked as a security officer for a large hotel in Daytona Beach. One fine afternoon, I had just showered in preparation for work and put on a white undershirt when my then wife asked me to change our son's diaper. I laid him down on our bed and cleaned him up, and was holding his ankles up with one hand while sliding a fresh diaper under him with the other when all hell broke loose.

For those of you who have not had the pleasure, let me take a moment to elaborate. Imagine the worst poo you've ever done after a night out in the pub followed by a stop for Indian food. That smell that you're mentally picturing is pretty much standard for every diaper filled by a small infant. Add in the fact that said diaper was fueled by mother's milk, and the smell mutates into something awesomely inhuman. Additionally, the innocuous-seeming milk turns shades of green and black that most people would not think possible.

Just as I leaned over to slide the clean diaper under his bottom, he let loose with a pressurized stream of the Devil's madness, which hit me directly in the chest. Startled by the sudden spray of liquid poo, I jerked backwards, baby ankles still in hand. My sudden motion changed the angle of the stream, propelling it upward - up the side of my face, up the wall behind me, and onto the ceiling.

Needless to say, I was a little late for work that day.
(WillF http://www.flickr.com/photos/silverfischdotnet/, Sun 5 Feb 2012, 0:25, Reply)