A man and his wife were sitting in the living room and he said to her,
"Just so you know, I never want to live in a vegetative state, dependent on some machine and fluids from a bottle. If that ever happens, just pull the plug."
His wife got up, unplugged the TV and threw out all of his beer.
Wednesday, February 21, 2007
Honest Answer
A three-year-old boy was examining his testicles while taking a bath.
"Mom", he asked, "are these my brains?"
"Not yet," she replied.
Amen, Sister!
Four Catholic ladies are having coffee together, discussing how important their children are.
The first one tells her friends, "My son is a priest. When he walks into a room, everyone calls him "Father."
The second Catholic woman chirps, "Well, my son is a bishop.
Whenever he walks into a room, people say, 'Your Grace.'"
The third Catholic woman says smugly, "Well, not to put you down, but my son is a cardinal. Whenever he walks into a room, people say 'YourEminence.'"
The fourth Catholic woman sips her coffee in silence. The first three women give her this subtle "Well...?"
She replies, "My son is a gorgeous, 6'2," hard bodied, well hung, Male stripper. Whenever he walks into a room, women say, "My God..
The first one tells her friends, "My son is a priest. When he walks into a room, everyone calls him "Father."
The second Catholic woman chirps, "Well, my son is a bishop.
Whenever he walks into a room, people say, 'Your Grace.'"
The third Catholic woman says smugly, "Well, not to put you down, but my son is a cardinal. Whenever he walks into a room, people say 'YourEminence.'"
The fourth Catholic woman sips her coffee in silence. The first three women give her this subtle "Well...?"
She replies, "My son is a gorgeous, 6'2," hard bodied, well hung, Male stripper. Whenever he walks into a room, women say, "My God..
If Men Wrote Advice Columns. . .
Q. My husband continually asks me to perform oral sex on him.
A. Do it. Semen can help you lose weight and gives a great glow to your skin. Interestingly, men know this. His offer to allow you to perform oral sex on him it totally selfless. This shows how much he loves you. The best thing to do is to thank him by performing it twice a day; then cook him a nice meal.
Q. My husband is uninterested in foreplay.
A. You are a bad person for bringing it up and should seek sensitivity training. Foreplay to men is very stressful and time consuming. Sex should be available to your husband on demand with no pesky requests for foreplay. What this means is that you do not love your man as much as you should. He should never have to work to get you in the mood.
Stop being so selfish! Perhaps you can make it up to him by performing oral sex on him and cooking him a nice meal.
Q. My husband has too many nights out with the boys.
A. This is perfectly natural behavior and it should be encouraged. The man is a hunter and he needs to prove his prowess with other men. A night out chasing young single girls is great stress relief and can foster a more peaceful and relaxing home. Remember, nothing can rekindle your relationship better than the man being away for a day or two. It's a great time to clean the house, too! Just look at how emotional and happy he is when he returns to his stable home. The best thing to do when he returns home is for you and your best friend to perform oral sex on him. Then cook him a nice meal.
Q. My husband doesn't know where my clitoris is.
A. Your clitoris is of no concern to your husband. If you must mess with is, do it on your own time and ask your best friend to help. You may wish to videotape yourself while doing this, and present it to your husband as a birthday gift. To ease your selfish guilt, perform oral sex on him and cook him a delicious meal.
Q. My husband always has an orgasm then rolls over and goes to sleep without giving me one.
A. I'm not sure I understand the problem. Perhaps you've forgotten to cook him a nice meal.
A. Do it. Semen can help you lose weight and gives a great glow to your skin. Interestingly, men know this. His offer to allow you to perform oral sex on him it totally selfless. This shows how much he loves you. The best thing to do is to thank him by performing it twice a day; then cook him a nice meal.
Q. My husband is uninterested in foreplay.
A. You are a bad person for bringing it up and should seek sensitivity training. Foreplay to men is very stressful and time consuming. Sex should be available to your husband on demand with no pesky requests for foreplay. What this means is that you do not love your man as much as you should. He should never have to work to get you in the mood.
Stop being so selfish! Perhaps you can make it up to him by performing oral sex on him and cooking him a nice meal.
Q. My husband has too many nights out with the boys.
A. This is perfectly natural behavior and it should be encouraged. The man is a hunter and he needs to prove his prowess with other men. A night out chasing young single girls is great stress relief and can foster a more peaceful and relaxing home. Remember, nothing can rekindle your relationship better than the man being away for a day or two. It's a great time to clean the house, too! Just look at how emotional and happy he is when he returns to his stable home. The best thing to do when he returns home is for you and your best friend to perform oral sex on him. Then cook him a nice meal.
Q. My husband doesn't know where my clitoris is.
A. Your clitoris is of no concern to your husband. If you must mess with is, do it on your own time and ask your best friend to help. You may wish to videotape yourself while doing this, and present it to your husband as a birthday gift. To ease your selfish guilt, perform oral sex on him and cook him a delicious meal.
Q. My husband always has an orgasm then rolls over and goes to sleep without giving me one.
A. I'm not sure I understand the problem. Perhaps you've forgotten to cook him a nice meal.
An Honest Mistake
A guy is at the supermarket when he notices that the rather good looking blonde behind him has just raised her hand and smiled hello to him.
He is rather taken aback that such a looker would be waving to him, and although familiar, he can't place where he might know her from, so he says, "Sorry, do you know me?"
She replies, "I may be mistaken, but I think you might be the father of one of my children."
His mind shoots back to the one and only time he has been unfaithful.
"Christ!" he says, "are you that strip-o-gram on my stag night that I screwed on the pool table in front of all my buddies while your friend whipped me with some wet celery and stuck a cucumber up my ass?"
"No" she replies, "I'm your son's English teacher."
He is rather taken aback that such a looker would be waving to him, and although familiar, he can't place where he might know her from, so he says, "Sorry, do you know me?"
She replies, "I may be mistaken, but I think you might be the father of one of my children."
His mind shoots back to the one and only time he has been unfaithful.
"Christ!" he says, "are you that strip-o-gram on my stag night that I screwed on the pool table in front of all my buddies while your friend whipped me with some wet celery and stuck a cucumber up my ass?"
"No" she replies, "I'm your son's English teacher."
Thursday, February 1, 2007
Things to Ponder in 2007!!
Number 10
Life is sexually transmitted
Number 9
Good health is merely the slowest possible rate at which one can die.
Number 8
Men have two emotions: Hungry and Horny. If you see him without an erection, make him a sandwich.
Number 7
Give a person a fish and you feed him for a day; teach a person to use the Internet and he won't bother you for weeks.
Number 6
Some people are like a Slinky.....not really good for anything, but you still can't help but smile when you shove them down the stairs.
Number 5
Health nuts are going to feel stupid someday, lying in hospitals dying of nothing.
Number 4
All of us could take a lesson from the weather. It pays no attention to criticism.
Number 3
Why does a slight tax increase cost you two hundred dollars and a substantial tax cut save you thirty cents?
Number 2
In the 60s, people took acid to make the world weird. Now the world is weird and people take Prozac to make it normal.
AND THE NUMBER 1 THOUGHT TO PONDER IN 2007:
We know exactly where one cow with Mad-cow-disease is located among the millions and millions of cows in America, but we haven't got a clue as to where thousands of Terrorists are located. Maybe we should put the Department of Agriculture in charge of immigration.
And the bonus thought.....
Consider what Willie Nelson said regarding being caught recently with a bag of Marijuana: "It's a good thing I had a bag of Marijuana instead of a bag of spinach. I'd be dead by now."
~~Thanx Megan!!
Life is sexually transmitted
Number 9
Good health is merely the slowest possible rate at which one can die.
Number 8
Men have two emotions: Hungry and Horny. If you see him without an erection, make him a sandwich.
Number 7
Give a person a fish and you feed him for a day; teach a person to use the Internet and he won't bother you for weeks.
Number 6
Some people are like a Slinky.....not really good for anything, but you still can't help but smile when you shove them down the stairs.
Number 5
Health nuts are going to feel stupid someday, lying in hospitals dying of nothing.
Number 4
All of us could take a lesson from the weather. It pays no attention to criticism.
Number 3
Why does a slight tax increase cost you two hundred dollars and a substantial tax cut save you thirty cents?
Number 2
In the 60s, people took acid to make the world weird. Now the world is weird and people take Prozac to make it normal.
AND THE NUMBER 1 THOUGHT TO PONDER IN 2007:
We know exactly where one cow with Mad-cow-disease is located among the millions and millions of cows in America, but we haven't got a clue as to where thousands of Terrorists are located. Maybe we should put the Department of Agriculture in charge of immigration.
And the bonus thought.....
Consider what Willie Nelson said regarding being caught recently with a bag of Marijuana: "It's a good thing I had a bag of Marijuana instead of a bag of spinach. I'd be dead by now."
~~Thanx Megan!!
The Purina Diet
I was in Costco buying a large bag of Purina for my dog Lola - and was in line to check out. A woman behind me asked if I had a dog...
Duh!
I was feeling a bit crabby so on impulse, I told her no, I was starting The Purina Diet again, although I probably shouldn't because I'd ended up in the hospital last time, but that I'd lost 50 pounds before I awakened in an intensive care unit with tubes coming out of most of my orifices and IV's in both arms. Her eyes about bugged out of her head.
I went on and on with the bogus diet story and she was totally buying it. I told her that it was an easy, inexpensive diet and that the way it works is to load your pockets or purse with Purina nuggets and simply eat one or two every time you feel hungry. The package said the food is nutritionally complete so I was going to try it again.
I have to mention here that practically everyone in the line was by now enthralled with my story, particularly a tall guy behind her.
Horrified, she asked if something in the dog food had poisoned me and was that why I ended up in the hospital?
I said no..... I'd been sitting in the street licking my butt when a car hit me.
I thought the tall guy was going to have to be carried out the door.
~~Thanx Adam Knight!!
Duh!
I was feeling a bit crabby so on impulse, I told her no, I was starting The Purina Diet again, although I probably shouldn't because I'd ended up in the hospital last time, but that I'd lost 50 pounds before I awakened in an intensive care unit with tubes coming out of most of my orifices and IV's in both arms. Her eyes about bugged out of her head.
I went on and on with the bogus diet story and she was totally buying it. I told her that it was an easy, inexpensive diet and that the way it works is to load your pockets or purse with Purina nuggets and simply eat one or two every time you feel hungry. The package said the food is nutritionally complete so I was going to try it again.
I have to mention here that practically everyone in the line was by now enthralled with my story, particularly a tall guy behind her.
Horrified, she asked if something in the dog food had poisoned me and was that why I ended up in the hospital?
I said no..... I'd been sitting in the street licking my butt when a car hit me.
I thought the tall guy was going to have to be carried out the door.
~~Thanx Adam Knight!!
Living in the '90s
Just because you were born in '97 doesn't mean you're a 90's kid.
It's not like you could remember the original Simpsons. I am sorry but three conscious years of the 90's just wont cut it.
You're a 90's kid if:
You can finish this [ice ice _ _ _ _ ]
You remember watching Doug, Ren & Stimpy, Pinky and the Brain, Bobby's World, Felix the cat, The Tick...
AAAAAAAH Real Monsters!
You've ever ended a sentence with the word "PSYCHE!"
You just cant resist finishing this . . . "Iiiiiiin west philidelphia born and raised . . ."
on the playground is where i spent most of my days...=]
You remember TGIF, Step by Step, Family Matters, Dinosaurs, and Boy Meets World.
You remember when it was actually worth getting up early
on a Saturday to watch cartoons.
You got super excited when it was Oregon Trail day in computer class at school.
You remember reading "Goosebumps"
You took plastic cartoon lunch boxes to school.
You still get the urge to say "NOT" after every sentence . . . not
If you remember seeing hot tub bubbles make bubbly sounds before every music video on VH1.
when everyhting was settled by rock paper scissors..or bubble gum bubble gum in a dish...and even better daddy had a donkey inky binky bonky.
when cops and robbers was a daily activity.
when we played Hide and go seek until our legs grew numb.
when we used to obey our parents
You used to listen to the radio all day long just to record your FAVORITE song of ALL time.
"Where in the World is Carmen San Diego?" was both a game and a TV game show.
Captain Planet. He's a Hero.
You knew that Kimberly, the pink ranger, and Tommy, the green ranger, were meant to be together.
You remember when Super Nintendos and Sega Genisis became popular.
You always wanted to send in a tape to America's Funniest Home Videos . . . but never taped anything funny.
You remember watching Home Alone 1, 2 , and 3 . . . and tried to pull the pranks on "intruders"
You remember watching The Magic School Bus, Wishbone, and Reading Rainbow on PBS.
You remember when Yo-Yos were cool.
You remember those Where's Waldo books.
You remember eating Warheads.
You remember watching the 1st Batman, Aladin, Ninja Turtles, and 3 Ninjas movies.
You remember Ring Pops.
You remember drinking Surge, and Tang.
If you remember when every thing was "da BOMB!"
When they made the new lunchables so that you could make pizza AND tacos.
You remember boom boxes vs. cd players.
Making those little paper fortune cookie things, and then predicting your life with them.
You played and/or collected "Pogs"
You had at least one Tamagotchi, GigaPet, or Nano and brought it everywhere.
. . . Furbies.
You haven't always had a computer, and it was cool to have the internet.
And Windows 95 was the best.
You watched the original cartoons of Rugrats, Power Rangers, and Ninja Turtles.
Michael Jordan was a king.
YIKES pencils and erasers were the stuff!
All your school supplies were "Lisa Frank" brand.
You remember when the new Beanie Babies and Talking Elmo were always sold out.
You collected those Beanie Babies.
Carebears
Gak was the coolest stuff invented.
Lambchop's song never ended.
The old dollar bills.
Silver dollars, which were cool to have.
You remember a time before the WB.
You collected all the Troll dolls
If you even know what an original walkman is.
You remember wanting to sit on the orange Nickelodeon couch.
You've gotten creeped out by "Are You Afraid of the Dark?"
You know the Macarena by heart.
"Talk to the hand" . . . enough said
You always said, "Then why don't you marry it!"
You went to McDonald's to play in the playplace.
You remember playing on merry go rounds at the playground.
Before the MySpace frenzy . . .
Before the Internet & text messaging . . .
Before Sidekicks & iPods . . .
Before MIKE JONES . . .
Before PlayStation2 or X-BOX . . .
Before Spongebob . . .
Back when you put off the 5 hours of homework you had every night.
When light up sneakers were cool.
When you rented VHS tapes, not DVDs.
When gas was $0.95 a gallon & Caller ID was a new thing.
When we recorded stuff on VCRs.
When we called the radio station to request songs to hear off of our walkmans.
Way back.
Before we realized all this would eventually disappear.
When you walked in 7th grade and heard the F-bomb and said "You said a bad word I'm telling"
Who would have thought you'd miss the 90's so much!!!!!
~~Thanx Courtney!!
It's not like you could remember the original Simpsons. I am sorry but three conscious years of the 90's just wont cut it.
You're a 90's kid if:
You can finish this [ice ice _ _ _ _ ]
You remember watching Doug, Ren & Stimpy, Pinky and the Brain, Bobby's World, Felix the cat, The Tick...
AAAAAAAH Real Monsters!
You've ever ended a sentence with the word "PSYCHE!"
You just cant resist finishing this . . . "Iiiiiiin west philidelphia born and raised . . ."
on the playground is where i spent most of my days...=]
You remember TGIF, Step by Step, Family Matters, Dinosaurs, and Boy Meets World.
You remember when it was actually worth getting up early
on a Saturday to watch cartoons.
You got super excited when it was Oregon Trail day in computer class at school.
You remember reading "Goosebumps"
You took plastic cartoon lunch boxes to school.
You still get the urge to say "NOT" after every sentence . . . not
If you remember seeing hot tub bubbles make bubbly sounds before every music video on VH1.
when everyhting was settled by rock paper scissors..or bubble gum bubble gum in a dish...and even better daddy had a donkey inky binky bonky.
when cops and robbers was a daily activity.
when we played Hide and go seek until our legs grew numb.
when we used to obey our parents
You used to listen to the radio all day long just to record your FAVORITE song of ALL time.
"Where in the World is Carmen San Diego?" was both a game and a TV game show.
Captain Planet. He's a Hero.
You knew that Kimberly, the pink ranger, and Tommy, the green ranger, were meant to be together.
You remember when Super Nintendos and Sega Genisis became popular.
You always wanted to send in a tape to America's Funniest Home Videos . . . but never taped anything funny.
You remember watching Home Alone 1, 2 , and 3 . . . and tried to pull the pranks on "intruders"
You remember watching The Magic School Bus, Wishbone, and Reading Rainbow on PBS.
You remember when Yo-Yos were cool.
You remember those Where's Waldo books.
You remember eating Warheads.
You remember watching the 1st Batman, Aladin, Ninja Turtles, and 3 Ninjas movies.
You remember Ring Pops.
You remember drinking Surge, and Tang.
If you remember when every thing was "da BOMB!"
When they made the new lunchables so that you could make pizza AND tacos.
You remember boom boxes vs. cd players.
Making those little paper fortune cookie things, and then predicting your life with them.
You played and/or collected "Pogs"
You had at least one Tamagotchi, GigaPet, or Nano and brought it everywhere.
. . . Furbies.
You haven't always had a computer, and it was cool to have the internet.
And Windows 95 was the best.
You watched the original cartoons of Rugrats, Power Rangers, and Ninja Turtles.
Michael Jordan was a king.
YIKES pencils and erasers were the stuff!
All your school supplies were "Lisa Frank" brand.
You remember when the new Beanie Babies and Talking Elmo were always sold out.
You collected those Beanie Babies.
Carebears
Gak was the coolest stuff invented.
Lambchop's song never ended.
The old dollar bills.
Silver dollars, which were cool to have.
You remember a time before the WB.
You collected all the Troll dolls
If you even know what an original walkman is.
You remember wanting to sit on the orange Nickelodeon couch.
You've gotten creeped out by "Are You Afraid of the Dark?"
You know the Macarena by heart.
"Talk to the hand" . . . enough said
You always said, "Then why don't you marry it!"
You went to McDonald's to play in the playplace.
You remember playing on merry go rounds at the playground.
Before the MySpace frenzy . . .
Before the Internet & text messaging . . .
Before Sidekicks & iPods . . .
Before MIKE JONES . . .
Before PlayStation2 or X-BOX . . .
Before Spongebob . . .
Back when you put off the 5 hours of homework you had every night.
When light up sneakers were cool.
When you rented VHS tapes, not DVDs.
When gas was $0.95 a gallon & Caller ID was a new thing.
When we recorded stuff on VCRs.
When we called the radio station to request songs to hear off of our walkmans.
Way back.
Before we realized all this would eventually disappear.
When you walked in 7th grade and heard the F-bomb and said "You said a bad word I'm telling"
Who would have thought you'd miss the 90's so much!!!!!
~~Thanx Courtney!!
30 Truths
1. My husband and I divorced over religious differences. He thought he was God and I didn't.
2. I don't suffer from insanity; I enjoy every minute of it.
3. I Work Hard Because Millions On Welfare Depend on Me!
4. Some people are alive only because it's illegal to kill them.
5. I used to have a handle on life, but it broke.
6. Don't take life too seriously; No one gets out alive.
7. You're just jealous because the voices only talk to me.
8. Beauty is in the eye of the beer holder.
9. Earth is the insane asylum for the universe.
10. I'm not a complete idiot -- Some parts are just missing.
11. Out of my mind. Back in five minutes.
12. NyQuil, the stuffy, sneezy, why-the-heck-is-the-room-spinning medicine.
13. God must love stupid people; He made so many.
14. The gene pool could use a little chlorine.
15. Consciousness: That annoying time between naps.
16. Ever stop to think, and forget to start again?
17. Being "over the hill" is much better than being under it!
18. Wrinkled Was Not One of the Things I Wanted to Be When I Grew up.
19. Procrastinate Now!
20. I Have a Degree in Liberal Arts; Do You Want Fries With That?
21. A hangover is the wrath of grapes.
22. A journey of a thousand miles begins with a cash advance
23. Stupidity is not a handicap. Park elsewhere!
24. They call it PMS because MadCow Disease was already taken.
25. He who dies with the most toys is nonetheless dead.
26. A picture is worth a thousand words, but it uses up three thousand times the memory.
27. Ham and eggs. A day's work for a chicken, a lifetime commitment for a pig.
28. The trouble with life is there's no background music.
29. The original point and click interface was a Smith and Wesson.
30. I smile! Because I don't know what the hell is going on.
2. I don't suffer from insanity; I enjoy every minute of it.
3. I Work Hard Because Millions On Welfare Depend on Me!
4. Some people are alive only because it's illegal to kill them.
5. I used to have a handle on life, but it broke.
6. Don't take life too seriously; No one gets out alive.
7. You're just jealous because the voices only talk to me.
8. Beauty is in the eye of the beer holder.
9. Earth is the insane asylum for the universe.
10. I'm not a complete idiot -- Some parts are just missing.
11. Out of my mind. Back in five minutes.
12. NyQuil, the stuffy, sneezy, why-the-heck-is-the-room-spinning medicine.
13. God must love stupid people; He made so many.
14. The gene pool could use a little chlorine.
15. Consciousness: That annoying time between naps.
16. Ever stop to think, and forget to start again?
17. Being "over the hill" is much better than being under it!
18. Wrinkled Was Not One of the Things I Wanted to Be When I Grew up.
19. Procrastinate Now!
20. I Have a Degree in Liberal Arts; Do You Want Fries With That?
21. A hangover is the wrath of grapes.
22. A journey of a thousand miles begins with a cash advance
23. Stupidity is not a handicap. Park elsewhere!
24. They call it PMS because MadCow Disease was already taken.
25. He who dies with the most toys is nonetheless dead.
26. A picture is worth a thousand words, but it uses up three thousand times the memory.
27. Ham and eggs. A day's work for a chicken, a lifetime commitment for a pig.
28. The trouble with life is there's no background music.
29. The original point and click interface was a Smith and Wesson.
30. I smile! Because I don't know what the hell is going on.
The Steakhouse Incident
This is copied from The I.H.O.S. website, but it's so funny, I thought I would share it with everyone. You should thank Michelle for sharing it with me!!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Now, I know that there is a lot of embellishment that occurs on this group and I am aware that a small number of things are perhaps sheer fabrication, but I have a story to tell that is the absolute truth. Funniest damn thing that has ever happened to me.
A couple of weeks ago we decided to cruise out to Ryan's Steakhouse for dinner. It was a Wednesday night which means that macaroni and beef was on the hot bar, indeed the only night of the week that it is served. Wednesday night is also kid's night at Ryan's, complete with Dizzy the Clown wandering from table to table entertaining the little bastards. It may seem that the events about to be told have little connection to those two circumstances, but all will be clear in a moment.
We went through the line and placed our orders for the all-you-can-eat hot bar then sat down as far away from the front of the restaurant as possible in order to keep the density of kids down a bit. Then I started my move to the hot bar. Plate after plate of macaroni and beef were consumed that evening, I tell you -- in all, four heaping plates of the pseudo-Italian ambrosia were shoved into my belly. I was sated. Perhaps a bit too much, however.
I had not really been feeling well all day, what with a bit of gas and such. By the time I had eaten four overwhelmed plates of food, I was in real trouble. There was so much pressure on my diaphragm that I was having trouble breathing. At the same time, the downward pressure was building. At first, I thought it was only gas which could have been passed in batches right at the table without to much concern. Unfortunately, that was not to be. After a minute or so it was clear that I was dealing with explosive diarrhea. It's amazing how grease can make its way through your intestines far faster than the food which spawned the grease to begin with, but I digress...
I got up from the table and made my way to the bathroom. Upon entering, I saw two sinks immediately inside the door, two urinals just to the right of the sinks, and two toilet stalls against the back wall. One of them was a handicapped bathroom. Now, normally I would have gone to the handicapped stall since I like to stretch out a bit when I take a good shit, but in this case, the door lock was broken and the only thing I hate worse than my wife telling me to stop cutting my toenails with a pair of diagonal wire cutters is having someone walk in on me while I am taking a shit. I went to the normal stall.
In retrospect, I probably should have gone to the large, handicapped stall even though the door would not lock because that bit of time lost in making the stall switch proved to be a bit too long under the circumstances. By the time I had walked into the regular stall, the pressure on my ass was reaching Biblical proportions.
I began "The Move."
For those women who may be reading this, let me take a moment to explain "The Move." Men know exactly what their bowels are up to at any given second. And when the time comes to empty the cache, a sequence of physiological events occur that can not be stopped under any circumstances. There is a move men make that involves simultaneously approaching the toilet, beginning the body turn to position ones ass toward said toilet, hooking ones fingers into ones waistline, and pulling down the pants while beginning the squat at the same time. It is a very fluid motion that, when performed properly, results in the flawless expulsion of shit at the exact same second that ones ass is properly placed on the toilet seat. Done properly, it even assures that the choad is properly inserted into the front rim of the toilet in the event that the piss stream lets loose at the same time; it is truly a picture of coordination rivaling that of a skilled ballet dancer.
I was about half-way into "The Move" when I looked down at the floor and saw a pile of vomit that had been previously expelled by one of those little bastards attending kids night; it was mounded up in the corner so I did not notice it when I had first walked into the stall. Normally, I would not have been bothered by such a thing, but I had eaten so much and the pressure upward was so intense, that I hit a rarely experienced gag reflex. And once that reflex started, combined with the intense pressure upward caused by the bloated stomach, four plates of macaroni and beef started coming up for a rematch. What happened next was so quick that the exact sequence of events are a bit fuzzy, but I will try to reconstruct them as best I can.
In that moment of impending projectile vomiting, my attention was diverted from the goings-on at the other end. To put a freeze frame on the situation, I was half crotched down to the toilet, pants pulled down to my knees, with a load of vomit coming up my esophagus. Now, most of you know that vomiting takes precedence over shit no matter what is about to come slamming out of your ass. It is apparently an evolutionary thing since shitting will not kill you, but vomiting takes a presence of mind to accomplish so that you do not aspirate any food into the bronchial tubes and perhaps choke to death. My attention was thus diverted.
At that very split second, my ass exploded in what can only be described as a wake...you know, as in a newspaper headline along the lines of "30,000 Killed In Wake of Typhoon Fifi" or something similar. In what seemed to be most suitably measured in cubic feet, an enormous plug of shit the consistency of thick mud with embedded pockets of greasy liquid came flying out of my ass. But remember, I was only half-way down on the toilet at that moment. The shit wave was of such force and of just such an angle in relation to the back curve of the toilet seat that it ricocheted off the back of the seat and slammed into the wall at an angle of incidence equal to the angle at which it initially hit the toilet seat. Then I sat down.
Recall that when that event occurred, I was already half-way to sitting anyway and had actually reached the point of no return. I have always considered myself as relatively stable gravitationally, but when you get beyond a certain point, you're going down no matter how limber you may be. Needless to say, the shit wave, though of considerable force, was not so sufficient so as to completely glance off the toilet seat and deposit itself on the walls, like what you would see when hitting a puddle with a high-pressure water hose; even though you throw water at the puddle, the puddle gets moved and no water is left to re-form a puddle. There was a significant amount of shit remaining on about one-third of the seat rim which I had now just collapsed upon.
Now, back to the vomit...
While all the shitting was going on, the vomit was still on its way up. By the time I had actually collapsed on the toilet, my mouth had filled up with a goodly portion of the macaroni and beef I had just consumed. OK, so what does the human body instinctively do when vomiting? One bends over. So I bent over. I was still sitting on the toilet, though. Therefore, bending over resulted in me placing my head above my now slightly-opened legs, positioned in between my knees and waist. Also directly above my pants which were now pulled down to a point just midway between my knees and my ankles. Oh, did I mention that I was wearing not just pants, but sweat pants with elastic on the ankles.
In one mighty push, some three pounds of macaroni and beef, two or three Cokes, and a couple of Big, Fat Yeast Rolls were deposited in my pants...on the inside...with no ready exit at the bottom down by my feet.
In the next several seconds, there were a handful of farts, a couple of turds, and the event ended, yet I was now sitting there with my pants full of vomit, my back covered in shit that had bounced off the toilet, spattered on three ceramic-tiled walls to a height of about five feet, and still had enough force to come back at me, covering the back of my shirt with droplets of liquid shit. All while thick shit was spread all over my ass in a ring curiously in the shape of a toilet seat.
And there was no fucking toilet paper.
What could I do but laugh. I must have sounded like a complete maniac to the guy who then wandered into the bathroom. He actually asked if I was OK since I was laughing so hard I must have sounded like I was crying hysterically. I calmed down just enough to ask him if he would get the manager. And told him to have the manager bring some toilet paper. When the manager walked in, he brought the toilet paper with him, but in no way was prepared for what happened next. I simply told him that there was no way I was going to explain what was happening in the stall, but that I needed several wet towels and I needed him to go ask my wife to come help me. I told him where we were sitting and he left. At that point, I think he was probably assuming that I had pissed just a bit in my pants or something similarly benign.
About two minutes later, my wife came into the bathroom not knowing what was wrong and with a certain amount of worry in her voice. I explained to her (still laughing and having trouble getting out words) that I had a slight accident and needed her help. Knowing that I had experienced some close calls in the past, she probably assumed that I had laid down a small turd or something and just needed to bring the car around so we could bolt immediately. Until I asked her, I'm sure she had no idea that she was about to go across the street and purchase me new underwear, new socks, new pants, a new shirt, and (by that time due to considerable leakage around the elastic ankles thingies) new sneakers. And she then started to laugh herself since I was still laughing. She began to ask for an explanation as to what had happened when I promised her that I would tell her later, but that I just needed to handle damage control for the time being. She left.
The manager then came back in with a half-dozen wet towels and a few dry ones. I asked him to also bring a mop and bucket upon which he assured me that they would clean up anything that needed to be cleaned. Without giving him specific details, I explained that what was going on in that stall that night was far in excess of what I would expect anyone to deal with, what with most of the folks working at Ryan's making minimum wage of just slightly above. At that moment, I think it dawned on him exactly the gravity of the situation. Then that manager went so far above the call of duty that I will be eternally grateful for his actions. He hooked up a hose.
Fortunately, commercial bathrooms are constructed with tile walls and tile floors and have a drain in the middle of the room in order to make clean up easy. Fortunately, I was in a commercial bathroom. He hooked up the hose to the spigot located under the sink as I began cleaning myself up with the wet towels. Just as I was finishing, my wife got back with the new clothes and passed them into the stall, whereupon I stuffed the previously worn clothing into the plastic bag that came from the store, handing the bag to my wife. I finished cleaning myself off and carefully put on my new clothes, still stuck in the stall since I figured that it would be in bad taste to go out of the stall to get redressed in the event I happened to be standing there naked and some little bastard kid walked in. At that point, I had only made a mess; I had not yet committed a felony and intended to keep it that way.
When I finished getting dressed, I picked up the hose and cleaned up the entire stall, washing down the remains toward the drain in the center of the room. I put down the hose and walked out of the bathroom. I had intended to go to the manager and thank him for all he had done, but when I walked out, three of the management staff were there to greet me with a standing ovation. I started laughing so hard that I thought I was going to throw up again, but managed to scurry out to the car where my wife was now waiting to pick me up by the front door.
The upshot of all this is that I strongly recommend eating dinner at Ryan's Steak House. They have, by far, the nicest management staff of any restaurant in which I have eaten.
Steve Crisp
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Now, I know that there is a lot of embellishment that occurs on this group and I am aware that a small number of things are perhaps sheer fabrication, but I have a story to tell that is the absolute truth. Funniest damn thing that has ever happened to me.
A couple of weeks ago we decided to cruise out to Ryan's Steakhouse for dinner. It was a Wednesday night which means that macaroni and beef was on the hot bar, indeed the only night of the week that it is served. Wednesday night is also kid's night at Ryan's, complete with Dizzy the Clown wandering from table to table entertaining the little bastards. It may seem that the events about to be told have little connection to those two circumstances, but all will be clear in a moment.
We went through the line and placed our orders for the all-you-can-eat hot bar then sat down as far away from the front of the restaurant as possible in order to keep the density of kids down a bit. Then I started my move to the hot bar. Plate after plate of macaroni and beef were consumed that evening, I tell you -- in all, four heaping plates of the pseudo-Italian ambrosia were shoved into my belly. I was sated. Perhaps a bit too much, however.
I had not really been feeling well all day, what with a bit of gas and such. By the time I had eaten four overwhelmed plates of food, I was in real trouble. There was so much pressure on my diaphragm that I was having trouble breathing. At the same time, the downward pressure was building. At first, I thought it was only gas which could have been passed in batches right at the table without to much concern. Unfortunately, that was not to be. After a minute or so it was clear that I was dealing with explosive diarrhea. It's amazing how grease can make its way through your intestines far faster than the food which spawned the grease to begin with, but I digress...
I got up from the table and made my way to the bathroom. Upon entering, I saw two sinks immediately inside the door, two urinals just to the right of the sinks, and two toilet stalls against the back wall. One of them was a handicapped bathroom. Now, normally I would have gone to the handicapped stall since I like to stretch out a bit when I take a good shit, but in this case, the door lock was broken and the only thing I hate worse than my wife telling me to stop cutting my toenails with a pair of diagonal wire cutters is having someone walk in on me while I am taking a shit. I went to the normal stall.
In retrospect, I probably should have gone to the large, handicapped stall even though the door would not lock because that bit of time lost in making the stall switch proved to be a bit too long under the circumstances. By the time I had walked into the regular stall, the pressure on my ass was reaching Biblical proportions.
I began "The Move."
For those women who may be reading this, let me take a moment to explain "The Move." Men know exactly what their bowels are up to at any given second. And when the time comes to empty the cache, a sequence of physiological events occur that can not be stopped under any circumstances. There is a move men make that involves simultaneously approaching the toilet, beginning the body turn to position ones ass toward said toilet, hooking ones fingers into ones waistline, and pulling down the pants while beginning the squat at the same time. It is a very fluid motion that, when performed properly, results in the flawless expulsion of shit at the exact same second that ones ass is properly placed on the toilet seat. Done properly, it even assures that the choad is properly inserted into the front rim of the toilet in the event that the piss stream lets loose at the same time; it is truly a picture of coordination rivaling that of a skilled ballet dancer.
I was about half-way into "The Move" when I looked down at the floor and saw a pile of vomit that had been previously expelled by one of those little bastards attending kids night; it was mounded up in the corner so I did not notice it when I had first walked into the stall. Normally, I would not have been bothered by such a thing, but I had eaten so much and the pressure upward was so intense, that I hit a rarely experienced gag reflex. And once that reflex started, combined with the intense pressure upward caused by the bloated stomach, four plates of macaroni and beef started coming up for a rematch. What happened next was so quick that the exact sequence of events are a bit fuzzy, but I will try to reconstruct them as best I can.
In that moment of impending projectile vomiting, my attention was diverted from the goings-on at the other end. To put a freeze frame on the situation, I was half crotched down to the toilet, pants pulled down to my knees, with a load of vomit coming up my esophagus. Now, most of you know that vomiting takes precedence over shit no matter what is about to come slamming out of your ass. It is apparently an evolutionary thing since shitting will not kill you, but vomiting takes a presence of mind to accomplish so that you do not aspirate any food into the bronchial tubes and perhaps choke to death. My attention was thus diverted.
At that very split second, my ass exploded in what can only be described as a wake...you know, as in a newspaper headline along the lines of "30,000 Killed In Wake of Typhoon Fifi" or something similar. In what seemed to be most suitably measured in cubic feet, an enormous plug of shit the consistency of thick mud with embedded pockets of greasy liquid came flying out of my ass. But remember, I was only half-way down on the toilet at that moment. The shit wave was of such force and of just such an angle in relation to the back curve of the toilet seat that it ricocheted off the back of the seat and slammed into the wall at an angle of incidence equal to the angle at which it initially hit the toilet seat. Then I sat down.
Recall that when that event occurred, I was already half-way to sitting anyway and had actually reached the point of no return. I have always considered myself as relatively stable gravitationally, but when you get beyond a certain point, you're going down no matter how limber you may be. Needless to say, the shit wave, though of considerable force, was not so sufficient so as to completely glance off the toilet seat and deposit itself on the walls, like what you would see when hitting a puddle with a high-pressure water hose; even though you throw water at the puddle, the puddle gets moved and no water is left to re-form a puddle. There was a significant amount of shit remaining on about one-third of the seat rim which I had now just collapsed upon.
Now, back to the vomit...
While all the shitting was going on, the vomit was still on its way up. By the time I had actually collapsed on the toilet, my mouth had filled up with a goodly portion of the macaroni and beef I had just consumed. OK, so what does the human body instinctively do when vomiting? One bends over. So I bent over. I was still sitting on the toilet, though. Therefore, bending over resulted in me placing my head above my now slightly-opened legs, positioned in between my knees and waist. Also directly above my pants which were now pulled down to a point just midway between my knees and my ankles. Oh, did I mention that I was wearing not just pants, but sweat pants with elastic on the ankles.
In one mighty push, some three pounds of macaroni and beef, two or three Cokes, and a couple of Big, Fat Yeast Rolls were deposited in my pants...on the inside...with no ready exit at the bottom down by my feet.
In the next several seconds, there were a handful of farts, a couple of turds, and the event ended, yet I was now sitting there with my pants full of vomit, my back covered in shit that had bounced off the toilet, spattered on three ceramic-tiled walls to a height of about five feet, and still had enough force to come back at me, covering the back of my shirt with droplets of liquid shit. All while thick shit was spread all over my ass in a ring curiously in the shape of a toilet seat.
And there was no fucking toilet paper.
What could I do but laugh. I must have sounded like a complete maniac to the guy who then wandered into the bathroom. He actually asked if I was OK since I was laughing so hard I must have sounded like I was crying hysterically. I calmed down just enough to ask him if he would get the manager. And told him to have the manager bring some toilet paper. When the manager walked in, he brought the toilet paper with him, but in no way was prepared for what happened next. I simply told him that there was no way I was going to explain what was happening in the stall, but that I needed several wet towels and I needed him to go ask my wife to come help me. I told him where we were sitting and he left. At that point, I think he was probably assuming that I had pissed just a bit in my pants or something similarly benign.
About two minutes later, my wife came into the bathroom not knowing what was wrong and with a certain amount of worry in her voice. I explained to her (still laughing and having trouble getting out words) that I had a slight accident and needed her help. Knowing that I had experienced some close calls in the past, she probably assumed that I had laid down a small turd or something and just needed to bring the car around so we could bolt immediately. Until I asked her, I'm sure she had no idea that she was about to go across the street and purchase me new underwear, new socks, new pants, a new shirt, and (by that time due to considerable leakage around the elastic ankles thingies) new sneakers. And she then started to laugh herself since I was still laughing. She began to ask for an explanation as to what had happened when I promised her that I would tell her later, but that I just needed to handle damage control for the time being. She left.
The manager then came back in with a half-dozen wet towels and a few dry ones. I asked him to also bring a mop and bucket upon which he assured me that they would clean up anything that needed to be cleaned. Without giving him specific details, I explained that what was going on in that stall that night was far in excess of what I would expect anyone to deal with, what with most of the folks working at Ryan's making minimum wage of just slightly above. At that moment, I think it dawned on him exactly the gravity of the situation. Then that manager went so far above the call of duty that I will be eternally grateful for his actions. He hooked up a hose.
Fortunately, commercial bathrooms are constructed with tile walls and tile floors and have a drain in the middle of the room in order to make clean up easy. Fortunately, I was in a commercial bathroom. He hooked up the hose to the spigot located under the sink as I began cleaning myself up with the wet towels. Just as I was finishing, my wife got back with the new clothes and passed them into the stall, whereupon I stuffed the previously worn clothing into the plastic bag that came from the store, handing the bag to my wife. I finished cleaning myself off and carefully put on my new clothes, still stuck in the stall since I figured that it would be in bad taste to go out of the stall to get redressed in the event I happened to be standing there naked and some little bastard kid walked in. At that point, I had only made a mess; I had not yet committed a felony and intended to keep it that way.
When I finished getting dressed, I picked up the hose and cleaned up the entire stall, washing down the remains toward the drain in the center of the room. I put down the hose and walked out of the bathroom. I had intended to go to the manager and thank him for all he had done, but when I walked out, three of the management staff were there to greet me with a standing ovation. I started laughing so hard that I thought I was going to throw up again, but managed to scurry out to the car where my wife was now waiting to pick me up by the front door.
The upshot of all this is that I strongly recommend eating dinner at Ryan's Steak House. They have, by far, the nicest management staff of any restaurant in which I have eaten.
Steve Crisp
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