Your one salty bastard

You can always rely on kids to humiliate you.

The thought of a breakfast called "Hobo`s Mess" almost made me barf - imagine eating the contents of an old hobo`s fecally filled and rotting underwear.

We get that you can piss anywhere. That line about telling the nephew you were going to shit on his face cracked me up though.

Thank you, CEP. I thought maybe I was the only one getting tired of hearing about DND's ability to "drain the main vein" anywhere.

Other than that, OK story.

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Holy skid marks Batman!

I wonder if DND could whip out his leak lizzard at a meggy dees?

I think you have to wait until your nephew is 18 before you can get him shit faced.You get props for trying to be a good uncle.

I could sit here and pick this lame story apart piece by piece but it will just be easier to stop reading for stories.

Their is no such thing as a shit bladder!!!

I meant reading "your" stories.

Do you think DND could siphon off some sludge from his backside-brownstar at a meggy dees?

I mean, why should his pee-pee bladder be more difficult to drain than his poopy bladder?

Rosie Odonnell is a shit bladder.

I thought that was shit-blatherer.

This story's not bad; maybe a tad lengthy for the content, but okay.

Perhaps by 'shit bladder' he means 'colostomy bag'? Maybe this poor chap has a medical condition that requires him to carry his waste in tidy sack around his waist. Quite handy I would suspect. Imagine, not having to worry about finding a loo because you are carrying one with you! My heavens! I do believe I've made quite a silly rhyme with that last sentence.

Thank gawd my favorite breakfast joint is right up the street because I am the same way. I cant do anything until that dump comes upon me.
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The Thunderous Crapper 63 Enjoying home toilet advantage since 2004!

"What the hell do you do on a cold winter day if you had the shits?" I don't know if this is a rhetorical question or not. Back when the outhouse was king, you kept a honeypot or slopjar underneath your bed for cold days. Awakening at night with a frozen trek to the outhouse could be averted with a ceramic pot and lid kept near or under the bed. Use it, put the lid on and empty the next morning.

DND, pay no nevermind to the naysayers regarding your oft repeated vein draining...the first rule in comedy is repetition can be funny...er...I mean, repetition can be funny, but some times, repetition can be funny, and occasionally, repetition can be funny.

Mostly, its not, though.

I usually try not to be negative, but with this story it is close to impossible. So basically you can piss anywhere, you have a shit bladder instead of a colon, and you really enjoy describing your own shit. I wonder about your mental state. I've been trying to figure out which is my most amusing poop story to tell on this site. If this story were the norm (Thank God it's not), I could tell you about any old shit. Describing the corn in your poo and what you ate is not all it takes for a good poop report. All right, the amusing part of the story was how you kept saying you didn't care about the price of your fancy schmancy breakfast because your uncle was paying, but it obviously really bothered you. Sorry, but this story was crap.

It seems like all your stories mention your ability to pee anywhere, and you did go overboard with it on this one. That, and telling your nephew you were going to crap on his face made this story not as enjoyable as it could have been.

Well, since Dave won't publish it in the Pooetry section, I guess I'll have to put it here:

The House Behind The House
A bit of Dumpster/Blaster family history

‘Tis in my fondest memories,
Back in the days of yore:
The little house, behind the house,
A crescent in the door.

A place to sit and ponder,
One’s head all bowed down low;
To which you didn’t wander,
Unless you had to go.

Ours was a multi-holer,
A size for every one.
You left there feeling better,
When Nature’s job was done.

You had to make those frequent trips
In snow, rain, sleet, or fog--
To that small house, where ever lay
An old Sears catalog.

Oft times in dead of winter,
The seat was caked with snow.
‘Twas then with much reluctance,
Out to that house you'd go.

With care you’d clear the wooden seat,
Squat down, with dreadful fear.
You'd shut your eyes and grit your teeth
And settle on your rear.

But then one day, our old Grandpa
(Who stayed with us one year),
He made a trip out to that house
Which proved to be quite drear.

’Twas on the same day that my Dad
Painted the kitchen green.
He'd just cleaned up the mess he'd made
With rags and gasoline.

Dad tossed the rags down in the hole,
Went on his merry way;
Not knowing that by doing so
He'd come to rue the day.

Now Grandpa had an urgent call,
Which I will ne’er forget!
This trip he made to the backhouse
Lives in my mem’ry yet.

He sat down on the wooden seat,
With both feet on the floor.
He filled his pipe and tamped it down
His match it struck the door.

He lit his pipe, and sure enough,
It soon began to glow.
He slowly raised his rear a bit
And tossed the nib below.

The Blast which followed, I am told
Was heard for miles around;
And there was poor old Grandpapa
Sprawled out upon the ground.

The smold’ring pipe still in his mouth,
His eyes were shut real tight;
The fam’ly’s dear three-holer
Was blown clear out of sight!

We asked him what had happened,
His words I'll ne'er forget:
He said he thought it must have been
Them pork ‘n beans he’d et!

Next day we had a new one
Dad put it up with ease.
But this one had a sign that read:
"No Smoking in here, Please!"

This happened in the Y2K
And, from it, I can claim:
AssBlaster, who’s my cousin,
Derived her website name!

Bilgepump is right, kind of. Repetition is funny when used by a person who can write. Also, descriptive writing is nice, when it's pertinent to the story. This thing was way longer than it needed to be. I could've wrapped this story up in half the length.
There is nothing about this, or his other stories that strike me as unique or outstanding. I only kept reading so I wouldn't feel like a quitter.

Kind of like when you had to memorize the Gettysburg address in 3rd grade, huh Bilge?

_______
Holy skid marks Batman!

I cant wait until this guy is a senior citizen on a fixed income. Lets see how easy it is to drag his tired ass 75 year old bones to wal-mart.

Yet Again:

Mr. Madison, what you've just said is one of the most insanely idiotic things I have ever heard. At no point in your rambling, incoherent response were you even close to anything that could be considered a rational thought. Everyone in this room is now dumber for having listened to it. I award you no points, and may God have mercy on your soul.

Seriously guy, we get it...you can piss anywhere...

You lost me, Homer. There was so much possibility with this story. It had a good beginning. The scene and situation -- the essential conflicts -- were laid out well. There was plenty I could sympathize with: your concern about your post-breakfast shit away from home base, your snarky comments about your geezer relatives, your prideful urinations -- well, maybe not so many of the prideful urinations -- and your irritation caused by potty-fascinated nephews.

And then it happened. Whatever goodwill you had built up was gone with those five little words: "shut up and wash his hands". That was just plain mean. And it was obviously directed at someone who adored you enough to want to follow your rank ass to the bathroom; who wanted to share some bonding with you in a place where we are all our most exposed and vulnerable; who looked to you for familial affection and acceptance and the odd stinky fart.

So, while The "I'm going to shit on his face" bit could have been funny in a curmudgeonly kind of way and the crying part could have been excused as a misunderstood joke, in the end, I was not with you. From that point on, I didn't really care any longer. I was glad the kid ratted you out at the table. Heck, I was hoping the kid would piss all over floor in front of the crapper just so that you would have to walk through it. And then blab everything just so that you would have to suffer the indignity of explaining yourself to the pack of old farts.

Better luck next time, Homer. With the stories, with the breakfast, with the children and with the repetition as well.
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Deja Poo - Because this shit's so strange, it couldn't ever have happened before.

Reading this reminded me of a question I've often asked: Why does an obsession with bodily functions and other health issues seem to be a requirement when one gets old? Seriously- even elderly people in relative good health can make simply *being old* a constant topic of discussion.

The kid being in there reminded me of a pet peeve of mine: being in the stall and someone who knows me comes in, sees the closed stall and my wheelchair wheels, and first asks who's there, and then proceeds to ask what I'm doing.

"Anonymous Coward (not verified)--03.15.2007
Yet Again:

Mr. Madison..."

And yet again what in the HELL are you referencing? Do you assume everyone knows what that's from? If you're lifting that from some other genre, you need to acknowledge from whence you lifted it.

I'm sorry, DND, but I couldn't get into this story. You had some funny parts, as far as a few one liners that made me chuckle. However, there was no climactic event to sum up the story, just a stinky bathroom and a whole lot of complaining.

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If a man farts and no one's around, does he make a sound?

Yeah, this guy's stories usually rub me the wrong way, too. At least "Meggy Dee's" and his buddy Scorch weren't in this one.

GGG, it's from Billy Madison, I think, but I'm not sure.

Which makes me want to quote Shooter McGavin.

"I eat pieces of shit like you for breakfast!"

"You eat pieces of shit for breakfast?"

Never gets old.

_______
.....hugging bunnies since 1969
www.daphneszoo.com

That is a good line!

And now I get the movie reference, thank you.

I love the bit about greasy breakfast names. This could be a new poop report contest. We could come up with names like Lumberjack's Pile,Dairyman's Dump, Truckdriver's Load. This could get real funny.

Awww, the story's just fine, just a little tame compared to the epic ones of everybody's career. This is a tale of the everyday yet memorable in some way dump.

As for the repeated "piss lines": I liked the first one, it made me recognize the writer from past works. And the wording on those bits is always creative and funny. DnD, just use one of those references per story and it will be most effective. :)

_______
'Hey that sounds pretty nasty, how about a courtesy flush over there?' (AP1)

Daph's quote regarding Shooter Mcgavin is from "Happy Gilmore" not "Billy Madison"...just in case some were confused...that is to say, "Happy Gilmore" is the movie in which the line Daphne quoted is from, and not the feature film "Billy Madison". In other words, to avoid confusion, the quote "I eat pieces of shit like you for breakfast" followed by the reply "You eat pieces of shit for breakfast?" is directly attributed to a dialogue between a character named Shooter Mcgavin and the lead character, Happy Gilmore, from the celluloid masterpiece, "Happy Gilmore", starring Adam Sandler. Got it? Is that clear? I could go over it again, if you like.....

A bit rough. An OK start.

DND if you were to piss in my cat's litterbox they would return favor and shit in your shoe.
Producing waste since 1967