Guys, my two favorite times of year are Christmas and whenever Shia The Motherf*cking LaBeouf has a movie coming out (if you hadn’t noticed, I can’t…stop…talking about him), because both of these things mean one thing: presents. During the holidays it’s the latest toys wrapped up and placed under a tree, and during the days preceding the premiere of a new Beefbuster, it’s the gift of Shia sharing himself with us through the press, who wraps up these morsels of Beef tenderloin and presents them for our ravenous consumption, such as this tidbit from a recent GQ Interview (proppers to my friend The Fiddler for catching this one), in which TMFLB tells us about how he used to sh*t on himself until as late as 12 years old, which is just adorable:

SOMEWHERE BETWEEN THE FIRST and the second shooting stations, LaBeouf interrupts himself to mention, wistfully, how many of his favorite actors maintain an air of mystery.

“So what parts of your life are you keeping to yourself?” I ask, playing along. “Usually you seem so, you know, uncensored.”

He thinks for a minute and then looks up with a eureka! grin. “I used to shit on myself until I was 12 years old. I didn’t stop until I got a job.”

“Are you serious?”

“I promise you. We could call my mother right now. You got your cell phone?”

LaBeouf puts her on speaker:

“Hello, Ma?”

Read the rest Shia’s sh*t-talking with his moms (and my interpretation of what this all means), after the jump!

“Yes, honey?”

“Hey, Ma, you’ll never believe what I’m talking about right now.”

“Where are you at?”

“Well, I’m at the range, but I’m talking to Kevin, and we were deciding how to be the most uncensored. Like, what’s the one thing I never told nobody? And I was telling him how I used to shit on myself. You remember that, Ma?”

“You shared that secret, huh?”

“Tell him what I did with the boxers, Ma.”

“Well, I don’t know. The times you did it, Shia, you thought you were going to get away with it. But you’d always get busted. The boxers would fall down on my head from the towel rack, or I’d find them under the bed.”

“Ma, Ma, tell him about the karate class at the YMCA.”

“Oh yeah. Karate class was very sweet, because you were all strong in your karate suit, and then all of a sudden a little brown ball would fall out of your clothes on the floor.”

“Ma, Ma, you remember when I was doing those kicking exercises in the gi [karate uniform]? You remember what happened with the kick that I did? My last kick in karate class?”

“What? The piece that flew?”

“Yeah, the piece that flew and hit the wall. Remember that piece?”

“You guys have a good day.”

“I love you. Bye, Ma.”

Is there anything in the world more touching than a God-like Major Motion Picture Star fondly reminiscing with his mother about those times when he used to poop himself well past the point where such behavior is normal? But The Beef isn’t normal either, so who are we to understand his divine fecal predilections? While this may seem disgusting to mere mortals such as ourselves, The Beef’s mother, blessed saint that she is, likely understood her son’s miraculousness long before we did, and was thus honored and humbled to have his poop-stained pants fall on her from the towel rack. Because heaven knows that if I were ever to come face-to-face with his Holy Beefyness, I would undoubtedly sh*t my own pants in shock, and awe, and honor…