pnutty, it's because the female body was designed by a male engineer. Only a man would run a main sewer line so close to an amusement park.

I watched it because it's kind of like a car wreck; you know it's going to be bad, but you slow down to look anyway.

Then I sent it to my mother.

You got a homecooked meal in India, and they served you chicken? No giant bug appetizers, chilled monkey brains, or a bunch of little live snakes stuffed inside a great big one?

Tell me you at least got to hang out on a rope bridge over a river filled with crocodiles, with a guy that tried to grab your heart.

If you didn't, then sister, you got gypped.

No such luck on cutting me out of the deal, Bunga. I've always got time when it comes to ladies. And from the look of your pack list, I'm glad we'll be driving my 1979 Thunderbird because we're gonna need the trunk space (and a bill of lading). We'll have to work something out on the 8 tracks though. I've upgraded to cassettes.

Logjam, as I do indeed wish to prove that I am honest in my dishonorable intentions, I have pm'd you references from my favorite dancers at the Classy Chassis gentleman's club. All except for Jade, that is. She took her baby's daddy to court today and didn't make her shift.

Sounds like the foie gras, I mean the foie gras, was punishing you for chowing down in such a fancy place and not keeping your pinky finger raised.

P.S. I forgive the misogyny. Trophy wives go hand in hand with a Ferarri in the garage.

daphne, you rock. Seriously. I'm no poet or even a passable limericker, but here's another attempt.

There once was a fellow named Bob,
Who ate nothing but corn on the cob.
'Til he clogged up his loo,
With his corn-studded poo,
And got stuck as he finished the job.

But do you sit on the plunger?

Frank, don't be so hard on yourself. The PR moderators, to the last man and woman, are rogues, rascals, rapscallions, reprobates, rowdies, ruffians, scamps, scallawags, scoundrels, skunks, shysters, hoodlums, hooligans, harridans, hellions, and all around bums. Plus, at least one of them is an honest to goodness pirate.

What they are not, is singling you out to be picked on. Moderating comment quality is a subjective task, totally dependent upon the opinion of each individual moderator, -and that can change from day to day, depending on mood, time of day, and phases of the moon. That's why at least two moderators have to mark a post as great or lame before said post is affected. It might be hard to accept, but if more than one person are in agreement about a post, it very probably deserves the tag it gets.

My advice to you, which you can do with what you will, is to just not worry about it. Everyone posts a stinker now and then, but if your posts are (somewhat) on topic and show that you put at least a tiny bit of thought into them, you'll be just fine. The tags aren't there to shame or denigrate anyone, just give them a nudge in the right direction. Remeber though, whatever you do, bitching about it is a sure way to draw negative attention your direction.

Now we're going to sit around and talk about feeding YOU to the shitsharks.

C Everett Poop (515) -- 10.09.2007 Lighten up.

Dude, you forgot to say Francis.

Anonymous Coward, that was a very well thought and reasonable response. I just have one little technical complaint about your use of the word vajayjay.

Clearly, cooter is the more appropriate choice.

Hamster's right. I hate sex. Of course, the fact that I'm doing a 10 year stretch in prison might be affecting my judgement...

Fudge, I don't know why I'm telling you this, but I like to sing in the shower.

Bottled at French Lick Springs, Indiana, hometown of one Mr. Larry Bird. Maybe if he took his team out into the woods and gave them some Pluto Water, the Pacers would straighten up and start playing decent basketball again.

Drippy, English is your second language, isn't it?

Do any of you have a Psychology background, cuz I've been wondering about something. Aside from naming himself the_shitman, this dude is very formal when it comes to talking about poop. No shit, crap, doodie, or mud pies for him. It's fecal this, feces that, waste, etc. Why can't he just call a turd a turd? Believe it or not, that's one of the things about him that annoys me the most.

"Well, Dumpie, what did you think?" asked GGG, reaching up, loosening his tie, and sliding it out of his collar. "You won't need this today," she said...

Dumpster, where exactly do you wear your tie if you have to remove it so you can moon a train?

I'm groaning right now...but it's not because of Dumpster :D

If you ever get lost in the wilderness, you could start yourself a fire.

doniker (1232) -- 03.27.2007
I hate these "poison people with Ex-Lax" stories.

Disclaimer or not...some jack-off will read this, think it's a good revenge and do it to somebody today.

Doniker, would you care for a cookie? I made them myself.

Dumpster, should you ever get bored with the Lawyerin', you can always moonlight as a plumber.

You'll just have to be careful not to get your two professions mixed, and show up for court wearing a too small white t-shirt, greasy jeans that artfully display your ass crack, and a John Deere ball cap.

Itchy ass? Scratch it.

I had a certain reputation at a previous job for smelling up the bathroom. On several occasions people would come in and raise a stink about the stink, like they expected a restroom to smell like roses. If I was still in the stall, I'd say "What? You're kidding me, it smells like chocolate chip cookies in here!" If I was at the sink washing my hands, I'd tell them that two minutes ago that smell was up my ass...and now it was inside their head.

I applaud Mr. Blaster for the calm and collected way dealt with the situation. A lesser talent would not have been able to keep focused on his computer game with all the poop cleaning and cat asswashing going on around him.

C Everett Poop (337) -- 11.29.2006
All smokers are revolting shitstains with no regard for anyone else, as I have stated in the forums.

Strictly a black and white man, eh? That must be nice. Those pesky shades of gray can be quite distracting. I rarely smoke, but maybe tonight I'll burn one in your honor.

Regards, Revolting Shitstain

I proudly admit that I do indeed read my literature in the Sunday comics. I will grant, however, that the intellectual content has declined since the departure of "Bloom County" and "Calvin and Hobbes."