Dearest Kelly,
I have hung your bung-born beauty over my fireplace. It is spectacular, as is your beauty. Alas! If only you would have shown even a glimmer of interest in me we could even now be cohabiting in bliss! You, producing extravaganzas of feculent fancy, and I pulling them out of the throat of doom to display them with pride in my trophy room! But it was not to be! I am now resigning myself to growing middle aged, fat, bald, and developing an interest in gay porn. Oh, but the thought of what could have been will sustain me through even this. Farewell Kelly my dream shitter! Farewell!
With love from afar,
your handsome plumber prince
There dammit. I love a happy ending.
*evil chortle*
In my humble opinion, they are not dingleberries, they are the advance guard of a fecal based alien civilization colonizing your hubby's asscrack. He is not responsible for his gross behavior as they have obviously exerted some form of anal-cephalic mind control. This is why I wear a tinfoil hat when I shit.
Turdmaster - That's cool man. I'm down with that. Now just back away slowly...
Feminazi pooper - Looks aren't the only thing I married her for, but they're a definite plus. See, she's got these "skills"... and I would never hit a lady. Other than you.
You can seriously mess up your electrolytes by infusing hypotonic solutions of God knows what up your ass. I HIGHLY question the necessity of colonics at all. Talk to your doctor before pursuing such a course of action. Dumpster is right - you can rupture the bowel by overfilling it. Can cause megacolon. Ask Motherload.
Indeed you do recall correctly, Dump man. You probably also recall that she was so damn big it took a railway car to move her. The Big Bertha in my case was so big if you told her to haul ass she'd have to make two or three trips.
Sorry to hear about your boot, but $500 for footwear?? Most of the cars I've owned have cost less than that. I actually have a pair of boots I've had for 32 years. They cost around $40 when new. If I stepped in shit they would only look better, but they are waterproof. Hopefully you can find some replacements that are more durable.
SamDamnit - The term does mean "small Penis" or "little penis." Thanks Queen Mary -"They're like fried burritos, AC." I went to Taco Bell and ordered one last night. Reckon that would explain the laughter. And the fact I've only got two inches this morning.
Dumpster - "What I hate is those touchy-feely emails that say "pass this along to five people you love within the next five minutes and you will receive a blessing." The blessing I get is from hitting the delete key."
Amen brother. I resent the implication that by not forwarding a piece of unsolicited junk mail I'm an inferior specimen of humanity. Don't get me wrong, I AM an inferior specimen of humanity, but I don't care to be reminded of it continually.
On a poopier note, the whole famn damily got together and went to the high school band concert just before Christmas. I had put down way too much methane producing, sulfite laden food stuffs, and could feel the pressure building. Fotunately for me, my little nephew (4 yrs old) sat beside me. The kid is a veritable fart factory. Throughout the entire concert he'd giggle and announce sotto voce that he'd just cut the cheese again. My other half was a bit annoyed at him because he reeked. I was not only amused, but a bit jealous. He just sat there farting his brains out while I was dying of a massive buildup of gut gas.
Towards the end of the concert, the senior brass ensemble was playing a medley of carols. Whenever they hit high notes, it sounded like a dozen road rage infected motorists laying on their car horns. During on of these, nephew giggled, signaling a release of flatulence. It was now or never - I ripped a fart that under ordinary conditions would have attracted the attention of the whole auditorium. With the blaring of trumpets, trombones, and such it went unheard. It was however smelt. My wife looked at our nephew with a glare, but said nothing. After the concert, the people behind us asked what we fed the kid. My wife was embarrassed, the kid oblivious, and I was relieved.
On the first day of Christmas my bunghole gave to me, a turd the size of a giant redwood tree.
On the second day of Christmas my bunghole gave to me two stinky farts, and a turd the size of a giant redwood tree.
On the third day of Christmas my bunghole gave to me three small dingleberries, two stinky farts, and a turd the size of a giant redwood tree.
On the fourth day of Christmas my bunghole gave to me, four Hershey squirts, three small dingleberries, two stinky farts, and a turd the size of a giant redwood tree.
On the fifth day of Christmas my bunghole gave to me five lumpy logs... four Hershey squirts, three small dingleberries, two stinky farts, and a turd the size of a giant redwood tree.
On the fifth day of Christmas my bunghole gave to me six greasy sharts, five lumpy logs... four Hershey squirts, three small dingleberries, two stinky farts, and a turd the size of a giant redwood tree.
On the seventh day of Christmas my bunghole gave to me seven 'rhoids a-burning, six greasy sharts, five lumpy logs... four Hershey squirts, three small dingleberries, two stinky farts, and a turd the size of a giant redwood tree.
On the eight day of Christmas my bunghole gave to me eight steaming loaves, seven 'rhoids a-burning, six greasy sharts, five lumpy logs... four Hershey squirts, three small dingleberries, two stinky farts, and a turd the size of a giant redwood tree.
On the ninth day of Christmas my bunghole gave to me nine l'il turdlets, eight steaming loaves, seven 'rhoids a-burning, six greasy sharts, five lumpy logs... four Hershey squirts, three small dingleberries, two stinky farts, and a turd the size of a giant redwood tree.
On the tenth day of Christmas my bunghole gave to me ten hours of diarrhea, nine l'il turdlets, eight steaming loaves, seven 'rhoids a-burning, six greasy sharts, five lumpy logs... four Hershey squirts, three small dingleberries, two stinky farts, and a turd the size of a giant redwood tree.
On the eleventh day of Christmas my bunghole gave to me eleven blasts of ass-gas, ten hours of diarrhea, nine l'il turdlets, eight steaming loaves, seven 'rhoids a-burning, six greasy sharts, five lumpy logs... four Hershey squirts, three small dingleberries, two stinky farts, and a turd the size of a giant redwood tree.
On the twelfth day of Christmas my bunghole gave to me twelve white balls of Cottonelle, eleven blasts of ass-gas, ten hours of diarrhea, nine l'il turdlets, eight steaming loaves, seven 'rhoids a-burning, six greasy sharts, five lumpy logs... four Hershey squirts, three small dingleberries, two stinky farts, and a turd the size of a giant redwood tree.
I sternly shake my wet tipped wanger,
To rid that stubborn one drop hanger.
Who persistently refuses to fall
Or fly against the restroom wall.
Why, pray tell, last drop of pee,
Dost thou cling so firm to me?
Now I squat me down to dump,
I just pray it won't wreck my rump.
If I die while dropping turds,
Flush me down with solemn words.
But if I live to poop again,
I just pray I won't fall in.
Dearest discusted by shit - I'll have you know I'm NOT discusting. DisGUSTing, maybe, but I've never been custed much less discusted. I had diarrhea once and was CRUSTed till after I showered. I got BUSTed once for speeding, but custed?? NEVER!
With heavy sigh and piteous groan
I shat upon your telephone.
Drunk and nasty I came to work
And shit from out my pants did perk.
I beg you-send me not to hell,
To be tormented by Alex Graham Bell.
Next week I swear (on my mother's head)
I'll simply puke on you instead.
You need to get seen and treated ASAP.
As a general rule of thumb, if one has a health issue that makes him nervous enough to solicit advice from total strangers on a humor based website, he would be better served by going to his own doctor. We're fun to hang around (except for Anonymous above - different branch of the Coward family), but we aren't doctors. We don't even play doctors on TV. Some of us may play doctor, but...
I sat upon the throne of white,
Pondering life in dark of night
When a gentle zephyr breeze
Wafted up and made me sneeze.
Its odor lingered in the room
Like a harbinger of doom
Malevolent and greasy smell
Issuing forth from deepest Hell,
Made eyes run like mighty river
Set teeth on edge, made nostrils quiver.
"Must be something that I ate"
But don't eat turds on paper plate.
What ever could have smelled like that?
Oh, I see, its just the cat.
If you have trained your anus with a sort of conditioned Pavlovian response, can't you untrain it? Give it another stimuli to respond to. I suggest C-Span. I know it makes me just shit to watch the government in action.
I kind of believe it. We had a baby Rottweiler once that we tried to house break. This dog was a certified canine moron. We tried everything to no avail. Finally we talked to the vet about it. Vet said to put a QTip with vaseline in the pup's anus, and that would stimulate it to have a movement. It stimulated the little bastard to bite my hand half off. Finally in desparation we tried leaving it in his ignorant butt for a few moments then remove it. Dumbass the dog waddled around the yard with the swab sticking out his but for 20 minutes before we took it out (thank heavens the neighbors weren't watching.) Finally he shit two miniscule turdlets. We took him inside and he shit Mt McKinley on the dining room floor. We finally got rid of him when we moved (I for one don't miss him).
What you have on your fingers when they contact your anus may determine the answer. If for instance you have superglue on your finger, you will be walking funny for a while. If you have Bengay you will be running verrrry fast. If you have poison ivy....you will be scooting your butt on the rug like a dog.
I washed my hands before I shat,
Plopped down my ass, big and fat,
Filled the bowl with greasy grit
Pulled up my drawers and flushed my shit.
I didn't rewash ere I left the john
I had to finish dinner mon!
I was drawn to Poopreport by Dave's evil psychic summoning. I used to have a job, a wife, 3 1/2 kids (one is really short), and a life. Now all I do is sit at my pc, drool on myself, break wind and read shit all day at PR. Damn you Dave, damn you!
Bionicle, bionicle,
I shat a huge colonicle.
I dropped this monster out my ass
Before much time could come or pass
It stood aright down in the bowl
Kicked me in my brown bunghole.
"Ouch!" cried I, "you savage twit,
You're naught but a piece of scabby shit!"
And in pain anew I loudly sung
As he in turn rekicked by bung.
With my fragile ego crushed
I got revenge, I turned and flushed.
J shat when she saw the bat
While chickenboy sat on his hat.
I don't mean to be rude,
But the poor girl was nude,
You could have saved her from that.
You're a gem, you're a pearl,
You screamed like a girl
Your lady laid on the floor
While you ran for the door -
You indeed made me want to hurl.
Next time your girl is bare
And you're screaming out there
Don't worry don't fear
Don't you cry in your beer
I'll be there with time to spare.
"...the facts are as follows: I ate a cheap burger at work, went home, puked, pooped, and got over it. Not much of a story though. The rest is pure embellishment."
Okay, embellishment is probably not the right word. As Double Flush says, "I could feel the back of my pants filling with warm goo as I tried to run the last few feet to the toilet" sounds a lot better than "I crapped my pants."
Often how someone says a thing is as important as what he or she says.
Dave - why did you turn to Feral House as your publisher when you could have started your own publishing company - Fecal House. That would be the shit.
_______ "Vini, Vidi, Vomiti" (we came, we saw, we got sick on the plane")
The snickering shits...sounds like too much fun for me. And in regard to the tampon string issue, I thank God for that Y chromosome. I ain't man enough to be a woman.
Unfortunately often only with age comes the wisdom to understand responsibility. Its a sad irony that just when most of us are getting mature enough to really get what life is all about, we die of old age.
I just gotta comment on this one! Forgive me, I'm soooo weak....
When your ass sits on the pot,
Your weinie must touch the porcelain NOT!
Be ye thoughtful and kind to him,
Knock not his head against the rim.
See he gets not a faceful of goop,
When he's dangling o'er the soup.
You must not abuse your little man
When you're seated on the can
Else when you should be reading Psalms
You'll grow hair upon your palms.
Little Willie may swim out to sea,
But not if you drown him in the pee.
So if you hold not your dick aloft,
When you need him he may go soft.
Twas a dark and stormy night,
Pushing hard with all my might,
Out popped a pebbly hard round bit
I thought 'tis but a piece of shit.
I grasped it with all my might and main,
Pulled fiercely and then felt the pain.
What happened next - alack and alas!
Blood was leaking out my ass!
"What meaneth this dreadful sign?" quoth I,
I just wanted to shit, not to die!
You may look at this and start to laugh,
But just how would it look as my epitaph?
Perhaps its a foundation hole for a migratory bung. Yeah, that's it! There was localized flooding after eating some greasy shit at a fastfood joint that damaged the foundation of your shitpipe. While awaiting assistance from FEMA your asshole got disgusted and moved south. To Louisiana.
The Floater
I pinched a loaf in the porcelain sea,
It floated there, staring back at me.
It floated, I say - it didn't sink
It lay on the surface and raised a stink.
A solitary turd adrift in the pot,
It lay quietly, (didn't bob alot)
Got me to thinking, and thinking some more,
Trying to come up with a metaphor.
A pithy saying with wisdom and wit,
But no matter what, it was still just shit.
Don't look at me - I don't eat shit.
I'm not some sick and twisted twit.
I will not munch a loaf or log,
I'd rather eat swill with a stinking hog.
I would not, could not dine on turd,
Or suck or sip on liquid merde.
While shit as a concept is just fine
Eating the crap is where I draw the line.
I gotta poop - I gotta go!
I cannot hold it in no mo'!
It may tumble out my pants
Or I may do a funny dance
To keep the shit stains off my shoe,
When I waited too long to take a poo.
O my word - what shall I do
I cannot find an open loo.
So if you wait to crap perchance
You may just shit your pants!
Should I swallow, or should I spit?
Will it stick inside or come out as shit?
Damn this gum, tis awful stuff!
Will it some out smooth, or come out rough?
In my mouth it caused fresh breath,
But in my ass will it cause death?
Who can tell me, (I may be in trouble!)
Will it fall out my ass or form a bubble?
Tell me now, don't be shy,
Can I poop it out or will I die?
Will I scream and blow a lung
When Juicy Fruit comes out my bung?
Will I get frisky with the DoubleMint twins,
Or will drizzly shit spatter on my shins?
I beg you tell me if you give a shit,
Should I swallow or should I spit?
How, in all profundity,
May we discuss fecal fecundity,
And avoid rhetorical redundity
And never consider this, to wit
One who’s fearful to take a shit?
Pity the fool, the hapless twit,
Who in shame and pain
Will not poop to gain,
Blessed relief that’s oh so plain,
To those of us with warped wit,
Who delight to take a public shit,
Caring not on what can we sit.
Perversity it is to refuse to go,
When the brown turtle’s head is dropping low,
And labored step is hard and slow.
And why will you not squat and drop,
Listening for the rewarding plop,
When shit’s downward course doth stop?
Now I say drop that dirt,
We assure you, it will not hurt,
Nor with death will you flirt.
But in rapturous tones of joyful song,
Your bung will its rejoicing prolong,
Such relief cannot be wrong.
So those of you with nervous twitters,
Come join the ranks of shameless shitters!
Dearest Kelly,
I have hung your bung-born beauty over my fireplace. It is spectacular, as is your beauty. Alas! If only you would have shown even a glimmer of interest in me we could even now be cohabiting in bliss! You, producing extravaganzas of feculent fancy, and I pulling them out of the throat of doom to display them with pride in my trophy room! But it was not to be! I am now resigning myself to growing middle aged, fat, bald, and developing an interest in gay porn. Oh, but the thought of what could have been will sustain me through even this. Farewell Kelly my dream shitter! Farewell!
With love from afar,
your handsome plumber prince
There dammit. I love a happy ending.
*evil chortle*