To the woman who pooped in my car (Best Craigs List Ad ever) | |
grrttsgar User ID: 750576 United States 08/18/2009 12:25 AM Report Abusive Post Report Copyright Violation | here i sit all broken hearted..... Quoting: RememberThiscame to shit and only farted..... he who reads these words of wit, will eat those little balls of shit!! LOL Thats not right ...Its like this People who write on bathroom walls Roll their shit in little balls People who read these words of wit Eat those litlle balls of shit hehe And the other is Here i sit all broken hearted tryed to shit and only farted then 1 day i took a chance tryed to fart and shit my pance |
cosmic yo yo User ID: 699942 United States 08/18/2009 12:31 AM Report Abusive Post Report Copyright Violation | |
Anonymous Coward User ID: 750774 United States 08/18/2009 12:31 AM Report Abusive Post Report Copyright Violation | As a committed gourmand and traveler, I take pride in indulging in whatever the local culinary favorites happen. I was in Norway for six weeks earlier this year; turns out that a favorite snack in Norway is salty licorice. I loathed the stuff at first, but then I developed quite a taste for it. True, the package said something to the effect of "excessive consumption can have a laxative effect." Sure... WHATEVER. So I ate it and ate it. Then, after a huge meal of Norwegian brown cheese (another local specialty) and seafood soup, I started to feel some rather unpleasant feelings down below. After dinner, my housemates and I retired to the TV room. I fart a lot, as a rule. I think that I eat too quickly and the air intake finds its way down to my bowels, resulting in fragrant air bubbles. But what happened next was just ridiculous. I found myself having to excuse myself and walk awkwardly to the bathroom every five minutes or so, blasting farts that they must have heard over the TV. I had never experienced anything like it. I felt spent after each burst. My whole body was convulsing with each explosion. After about four or five trips to the bathroom, one of my friends asked me if I was going to go down with her to the video store to look for a movie like I had promised. In what could have been the biggest mistake of my life, I agreed to go. I wanted to find something good to watch (hint: Norwegian TV ain't that great); and plus, I liked this woman and enjoyed spending time with her. The video store was just down the hill from the house, so we drove in her car. As soon as we entered the store, I made what I'm sure was a confusing (to her) u-turn and walked right out again. Desperate, I walked around to the back parking lot/loading dock -- which, mercifully, was empty. Before I knew it, I had dropped my pants around my ankles and absolutely sprayed the wall with a toxic orange brew. When I turned around it looked as if someone had taken a gallon of paint and violently thrown it against the wall. With nothing to wipe with, I searched in vain before finally deciding on an old newspaper. Didn't do the trick. So, operating at light speed and hoping no one would see me, I sacrificed my boxers. I mopped up as best I could and threw them under the loading dock. Thinking that the crisis was behind me, I boldly ventured back into the store. My friend was now at the counter, paying for her movie. I explained that I had to go use a payphone to call home. I could have used her cell phone, she told me. And then I received a stroke of luck that bought me more time: there was a problem with her credit card that kept her up at the desk for over twenty minutes. I guess it was twenty minutes -- I had no conception of time. I was in a daze, wandering around in crisis mode, trying not to shit myself. Sure enough, two minutes later, I was back in my makeshift bathroom, squatting against the building and absolutely dousing the wall with graffiti from my very own can of spray paint. Honestly, I don't even remember what I wiped with that time -- I may have had to go find my own soiled boxers and reuse them. I was scared that she would walk out to her car and see me just feet (or meters, as they say in Norway) away. I fumbled with my belt and got my pants on just before she walked to the car. The smell was in the air and I was terrified that she would put two and two together. Maybe she did and was just too polite to say. I kept the window rolled down as we went rode back to the house, just in case. |
XHIBIT User ID: 750630 United States 08/18/2009 03:04 AM Report Abusive Post Report Copyright Violation | As a committed gourmand and traveler, I take pride in indulging in whatever the local culinary favorites happen. I was in Norway for six weeks earlier this year; turns out that a favorite snack in Norway is salty licorice. I loathed the stuff at first, but then I developed quite a taste for it. True, the package said something to the effect of "excessive consumption can have a laxative effect." Sure... WHATEVER. Quoting: Anonymous Coward 750774So I ate it and ate it. Then, after a huge meal of Norwegian brown cheese (another local specialty) and seafood soup, I started to feel some rather unpleasant feelings down below. After dinner, my housemates and I retired to the TV room. I fart a lot, as a rule. I think that I eat too quickly and the air intake finds its way down to my bowels, resulting in fragrant air bubbles. But what happened next was just ridiculous. I found myself having to excuse myself and walk awkwardly to the bathroom every five minutes or so, blasting farts that they must have heard over the TV. I had never experienced anything like it. I felt spent after each burst. My whole body was convulsing with each explosion. After about four or five trips to the bathroom, one of my friends asked me if I was going to go down with her to the video store to look for a movie like I had promised. In what could have been the biggest mistake of my life, I agreed to go. I wanted to find something good to watch (hint: Norwegian TV ain't that great); and plus, I liked this woman and enjoyed spending time with her. The video store was just down the hill from the house, so we drove in her car. As soon as we entered the store, I made what I'm sure was a confusing (to her) u-turn and walked right out again. Desperate, I walked around to the back parking lot/loading dock -- which, mercifully, was empty. Before I knew it, I had dropped my pants around my ankles and absolutely sprayed the wall with a toxic orange brew. When I turned around it looked as if someone had taken a gallon of paint and violently thrown it against the wall. With nothing to wipe with, I searched in vain before finally deciding on an old newspaper. Didn't do the trick. So, operating at light speed and hoping no one would see me, I sacrificed my boxers. I mopped up as best I could and threw them under the loading dock. Thinking that the crisis was behind me, I boldly ventured back into the store. My friend was now at the counter, paying for her movie. I explained that I had to go use a payphone to call home. I could have used her cell phone, she told me. And then I received a stroke of luck that bought me more time: there was a problem with her credit card that kept her up at the desk for over twenty minutes. I guess it was twenty minutes -- I had no conception of time. I was in a daze, wandering around in crisis mode, trying not to shit myself. Sure enough, two minutes later, I was back in my makeshift bathroom, squatting against the building and absolutely dousing the wall with graffiti from my very own can of spray paint. Honestly, I don't even remember what I wiped with that time -- I may have had to go find my own soiled boxers and reuse them. I was scared that she would walk out to her car and see me just feet (or meters, as they say in Norway) away. I fumbled with my belt and got my pants on just before she walked to the car. The smell was in the air and I was terrified that she would put two and two together. Maybe she did and was just too polite to say. I kept the window rolled down as we went rode back to the house, just in case. |
Anonymous Coward User ID: 751047 Italy 08/18/2009 06:07 AM Report Abusive Post Report Copyright Violation | |
Anonymous Coward User ID: 751049 United Kingdom 08/18/2009 06:10 AM Report Abusive Post Report Copyright Violation | |
Richard Strong (OP) User ID: 471457 United States 08/26/2009 02:17 PM Report Abusive Post Report Copyright Violation | Sorry I read this thread now, I'm just enjoying the delights of the 'gastric phase' of the pork-pox and it's too close to home - daren't laugh at all, :) Quoting: Anonymous Coward 751049I agree...just ate chinese! Krakatoa may erupt yet! I am Richardus Strongus. Father to a murdered 'Refreshtard' thread, Husband to a deleted Top 10 thread. I will have my vengeance on the Lightworkers ..in this life or the next. |
Anonymous Coward User ID: 746806 United States 08/26/2009 02:29 PM Report Abusive Post Report Copyright Violation | me too! got that in an email didn't know how to post good job! ROFLMAO Quoting: Anonymous Coward 698046 |
TheKarmaDealer® User ID: 753500 United States 08/26/2009 02:43 PM Report Abusive Post Report Copyright Violation | |
Anonymous Coward User ID: 736738 United States 08/26/2009 03:41 PM Report Abusive Post Report Copyright Violation | As a committed gourmand and traveler, I take pride in indulging in whatever the local culinary favorites happen. I was in Norway for six weeks earlier this year; turns out that a favorite snack in Norway is salty licorice. I loathed the stuff at first, but then I developed quite a taste for it. True, the package said something to the effect of "excessive consumption can have a laxative effect." Sure... WHATEVER. Quoting: Anonymous Coward 750774So I ate it and ate it. Then, after a huge meal of Norwegian brown cheese (another local specialty) and seafood soup, I started to feel some rather unpleasant feelings down below. After dinner, my housemates and I retired to the TV room. I fart a lot, as a rule. I think that I eat too quickly and the air intake finds its way down to my bowels, resulting in fragrant air bubbles. But what happened next was just ridiculous. I found myself having to excuse myself and walk awkwardly to the bathroom every five minutes or so, blasting farts that they must have heard over the TV. I had never experienced anything like it. I felt spent after each burst. My whole body was convulsing with each explosion. After about four or five trips to the bathroom, one of my friends asked me if I was going to go down with her to the video store to look for a movie like I had promised. In what could have been the biggest mistake of my life, I agreed to go. I wanted to find something good to watch (hint: Norwegian TV ain't that great); and plus, I liked this woman and enjoyed spending time with her. The video store was just down the hill from the house, so we drove in her car. As soon as we entered the store, I made what I'm sure was a confusing (to her) u-turn and walked right out again. Desperate, I walked around to the back parking lot/loading dock -- which, mercifully, was empty. Before I knew it, I had dropped my pants around my ankles and absolutely sprayed the wall with a toxic orange brew. When I turned around it looked as if someone had taken a gallon of paint and violently thrown it against the wall. With nothing to wipe with, I searched in vain before finally deciding on an old newspaper. Didn't do the trick. So, operating at light speed and hoping no one would see me, I sacrificed my boxers. I mopped up as best I could and threw them under the loading dock. Thinking that the crisis was behind me, I boldly ventured back into the store. My friend was now at the counter, paying for her movie. I explained that I had to go use a payphone to call home. I could have used her cell phone, she told me. And then I received a stroke of luck that bought me more time: there was a problem with her credit card that kept her up at the desk for over twenty minutes. I guess it was twenty minutes -- I had no conception of time. I was in a daze, wandering around in crisis mode, trying not to shit myself. Sure enough, two minutes later, I was back in my makeshift bathroom, squatting against the building and absolutely dousing the wall with graffiti from my very own can of spray paint. Honestly, I don't even remember what I wiped with that time -- I may have had to go find my own soiled boxers and reuse them. I was scared that she would walk out to her car and see me just feet (or meters, as they say in Norway) away. I fumbled with my belt and got my pants on just before she walked to the car. The smell was in the air and I was terrified that she would put two and two together. Maybe she did and was just too polite to say. I kept the window rolled down as we went rode back to the house, just in case. LOL! This just happened to me this past Sunday. Downtown Atlanta at the Lenox Building. After a delicious meal of some mediterannean food, it hit me like a ton of bricks when I was walking to my car. They really should not make public restrooms so rare. I could've made it if there was one around. Instead, after searching for one in vain, my time was up, so I found the most secluded corner I could (in a very crowded lobby attached to a mall) and sprayed the wall and floor. Had to wipe with my sock. It was embarrassing, disgusting, and hilarious. My wife is still giggling about it. And you know some poor bastard stumbled upon it later.... |
Anonymous Coward User ID: 813685 United States 11/08/2009 06:52 PM Report Abusive Post Report Copyright Violation | |
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