Butter the devil you know
I was watching a dvd round at a friend’s house a while back. Her housemate was upstairs enjoying some very vocal love action with her boyfriend. Suddenly, it went quiet. Then there was a rather loud “Ooooooow”. A door slammed and we heard footsteps running down the stairs. She burst into the living room wearing nothing but a towel, ran straight past us into the kitchen. She then ran back out clutching a half full pack of butter, pausing only to say…

“Anal. Ran out of lube…”

…before running back upstairs to carry on.

I have never eaten toast round at my friend’s house since.
(Rakky (forgot her password) The muffin maverick, Thu 6 Sep 2007, 16:59, Reply)

What's the sun made of, dad? It feels hot.
A seemingly simple quesion from my four year old daughter.

Now, I'm an engineer and I'm used to speaking to people all day in a highly concentrated acronym-laden convoluted mess of words and technobabble. So my first thought was to answer -

ah, subatomic fusion of hydrogen nuclei to form helium in a 14 million degree plasma.

Oh. 4 year old. Have to explain fusion.
To explain fusion, have to explain chemical elements.
To explain chemical elements, have to go into subatomic physics.
To explain subatomic physics, have to go into mass/energy equations.
To explain mass/energy conversion, have to engage in laws of physics revolving about mass, pressure,nucleus repulsion and the speed of light.

THEN-To explain how we know all of this, have to refer to the thermonuclear weapons program.
To explain that, have to go into mechanics of isotope separation and enrichment within a centrifuge / neutron cannon environment.
To explain that, have to explain global geopolitical history of the early 20th century.
To explain all of that, have to go into politics, fascism and communisim.
To explain how that could be executed, have to go into tactical military planning, bomber fleets, ICBMs, terrorism and the struggle against the axis evil powers.

And then we have to take into acount why the sun is a (mainly) uniform sphere 93,000,000 miles away. So have to explain gravity, simple harmonic motion, gas density etc.

To explain why it feels hot , have to explain radiation. To explain that, have to explain the theory of electromagnetic wavelengths. To explain that, have to involve use of mathematics to determine frequency versus EM band. And also briging the speed of light, vacuum permeability and electromagnetic wave propagation, wave-versus-particle photon theory as disseminated by quantum mechanics versus Einsteins' general relativity. And then it feels hot because of absorbtion, nerve receptors, chemical nerve conduction, axon interlinkage, cogniscence and resoning.


So either I can say "you'll find out when your older" (like, 14 years later in total) or I can avoid the TMI and say..

'Fire'

at which point she replied, in a disgusted tone of voice "Fire? FIRE!!?? DOH!"

To this day I don't know why the answer gave so much dissatisfaction... maybe she'd bet on the outcome with a schoolmate and realised she had wrongly said 'Fusion plasma brought about by the subatomic combination of hydrogen nuclei into helium and mass-to-energy conversion".
( Rotating Wobbly Hat That's not a banana. THIS is a banana., Thu 6 Sep 2007, 16:55, Reply)

TMI or TME?
I can't believe I'd forgotten about this one. Reading k2k6's story about the veet incident reminded me.
Several years past, when Mrs Greencloud was a young (18 - 20 ish) Fiancee of Greencloud she had an appointment with the quack for some lady-matter or other. It may have been a smear test - whatever they are.

Being an image-conscious type, she'd gone in the bath beforehand to prepare said growler for medical examination. Having thoroughly cleaned shaved / waxed / plucked to perfection she applied a little moisturiser to ward off razor-burn on the delicate pink parts.
Wait for it.......

Apparently, upon seeing her de-kekked kebab the doctor had began to chuckle and called over the attending nurse who also was obviously supressing a guffaw. Immediately concerned and offended, my Mrs demanded to know what was up. If I remember correctly, the nursed handed her the recently removed knickers by way of explaination, the crotch of which was apparently shimmering like a QVC diamante special.

The explaination?: She'd mistaken her small tube of moisturiser stuff for the assumedly similar tube of 'body glitter' (Apparently a trend in the late 90's / early 00'ies. Body glitter - for the benefit of us blokes - was a clear gel stuff laced with tiny flakes of crushed glitter which ladies applied sparingly to breast/chest areas when dolled up for a night on the razzle to provide a "shimmering" effect)

The upshot was that my wife nervously attended her smear appointment and timidly lay back to reveal to a medical practitioner her finest impression of a 'disco-cnut'!!!

Too much information? Probably. I could have condensed this into; "My wife once went for a smear appointment with body glitter rubbed on her chuff"

Too much effort? I bet it was the best presented fanny that doctor's ever seen!

Length? Once, mine was 'diamond'!
(Greencloud Wanted to go fishing on, Thu 6 Sep 2007, 16:49, Reply)

All about the Mothers
I was hungover one morning and decided to tell my parents about a friend of mine who had told us down the pub that he'd shaved off his pubes, to which my Mum replied
"Ooh that really itches that does"
Huuuuuuuuurrrrrrrrrrrrrppppppppppp
( SauronWibble I'll hold it, you lick it..., Thu 6 Sep 2007, 16:44, Reply)

My mother
decided to tell me not so long ago, that not only would my father only have sex with her up the brown, but he was also gayer than a handbag full of rainbows.

But fear not, to console me over the shattered images of my past, she shared her happiness about her sexual antics with her present husband, and the fact that he whips up so much fanny froth, they have to change the sheets every night.

*gips*

*dies*
( Scary Mary The D'oh Fairy, Thu 6 Sep 2007, 16:21, Reply)

Just a few weeks back...
On my team's annual trip down south, we'd spent the first night hosing down ale and chatting up the local lay-dees.

One of the lads, Scottie, had been talking some drunken bollocks to a hefty, overweight, pot-ugly, 40-something divorcee. She looked like a burst couch.

Anyway, Scottie wasn't quite drunk enough to shag her, but took her phone number, and the evening ended without incident.

The following night, Scottie is howling drunk, and his standards have obviously slipped somewhat, but his friend is nowhere to be seen. A crowd of us are stood at the bar, when he whips out his mobile and phones the lady in question.

His side of the conversation, bellowed loudly across the bar in an semi-agressive Scottish tone, went along these lines....

"I'm imaginin' that I've just been in yer bathroom fer a pish, and I come into yer bedroom and yer bent right ower yer bed and I jist charge in and take you right up the shitebox...."

Well you can imagine the reaction. Anyone stood within 5 yards of me was covered in 2nd hand Stella. Incredibly, she didn't hang up!

I didn't enquire as to whether he managed to fulfill his fantasy but I'm sure he would have told us if he had.

Definitely too much info.
(Reverend Fister "a disciplined fuckwit", Thu 6 Sep 2007, 16:08, Reply)

Things that make you go "Arghnoshutupshutup!"
First thing that springs to mind is the incident where a friend of ours managed to get a mutual aquaintence to reveal certain intimate measurements by pretending to be a dirty little cumslut (a role he played far too well), mentally scarring all who were in on it.
Earlier during the whole affair 'Sarah' had sent our gullible victim a text asking if he would "Stick your Willy Wonka in my Oompa-Loompa?" The reply "I'd rather stick my cock in your tight pussy ;-)" still equally amuses and horrifies us to this day.

A second, slightly less relevant story concerns a ladyfriend of mine who had a slight tendancy to not be able to hold her drink too well. It was thus that, after a few glasses of the old vino, she turned to me and asked me, perhaps louder than was necessary*, what I thought of her then boyfriend pausing in the middle of sex to answer his phone.

That was rather too much information for me, and it was certainly too much for the people sitting at the next table, who had the dubious pleasure of overhearing.

I steered the conversation to a different topic before she had a chance to broadcast anything about length.

*In a similar situation, we were all sitting quietly in the bar, when our friend suddenly yelled out "That girl there just farted!" loud enough for half the room to hear. The guilty lass almost wept.
(Uncle Comrade, Thu 6 Sep 2007, 15:55, Reply)

A bit off topic... but close enough
I admit it. I go to the gym, and I use the sauna there from time to time.

Clearly, the unwritten rule is that, though you might hear others' conversations in there, you don't really HEAR them. But sometimes it's difficult not to. For example, I was sitting in there one day, minding my own business, when a girl walks in with - presumably - her b/f. Both early twenties, I'd say.

They started chatting, and I was politely ignoring it - but I couldn't help overhearing from the girl, idly, "You know, I think this swimsuit makes my breasts look really good..."

What can you do? You can't be seen to look; but nor can you be seen not to, because it'd be obvious that you would be making a point of not looking.

Oh, and she was right. Which meant that standing up and getting out of the sauna was not an immediate option, for, ahem, obvious reasons.

I honestly think that that is one of the most evil things I have heard anyone say.
( Enzyme is powered by sunlight, Thu 6 Sep 2007, 15:52, Reply)

When me and my friends are drunk...
... conversation always seem to turn into "who's done the biggest poo" competitions.
(ladyintheradiator, Thu 6 Sep 2007, 15:52, Reply)

two weeks ago I had a blister...
...on the INSIDE of my bottom lip, which burst and tasted foul.

It was due to too much inflammation.
(toomanydecibels has bleeding ears on, Thu 6 Sep 2007, 15:49, Reply)

Ground Zero Follow Thru Poo Striker
Said very loudly in the canteen.
(In a scouse accent)
'Yeah we was at this gig and we was all was rat arsed, so we all clambered into the back of the van, one of me mates had no were to sit so he plonks his arse on me mates lap, then farts loudly in his lap and then to add to that he follows through! Spraying his mate in the face! Great eh!'

Beef Curry was on the dish of the day menu...

I guess he was s**t faced then! Bumdish!
(middenface Toss my salad, Thu 6 Sep 2007, 15:48, Reply)

One of the many stories to come out of Thailand... Warning - story about shit :)
FIRST POST ;)

On the list of things to do in Thailand was 1) see the Malaysian Grand Prix, 2) do shed loads of diving and 3) anything else in between.

As we walked towards the airport terminal on our way back from Phuket after a 4-day diving trip to the Similan Islands, I said I was just nipping in for a quick dump so the guys went on ahead. Bear in mind we'd been on a boat for 4 days so the food had been 'different' to say the least.

They saw me staggering back as I couldn't walk for laughing so hard. I struggled to get the story out and we were in fits of laughter before I'd even finished. I'll tell you why...

Now in Thailand it is usual for the locals not to use toilet paper but to use a water jet instead - like a bidet if you will. I looked at it with a frown, it might be the time to try it out.

So... when I'd finished I pushed the nozzle between my legs and pressed the plunger. Now, you were meant to regulate with a subtle press of the lever. Of course I squeezed the life out of it and full mains pressure blew shit from my arse and all over the wall behind me.

Not only that but it had caught my t-shirt on the way, all I did was rinse and wring it out - jobs a good 'un.
(horrgakx, Thu 6 Sep 2007, 15:44, Reply)

Desk Jockey



A former manager of mine was having an affair with one of my colleagues.

She thought that they were perfectly safe and that nobody would ever find out. Unfortunately, my colleague couldn't keep quiet about it and would tell everyone.

A bunch of us were having a Friday boozing 'n' bitching session in the pub when he started up about their latest carrying on.

"Well, XXX finds it dead kinky to have sex in the bosses office when everyone has gone home." We all laughed as nobody liked the cunt. "Do you know where else we have sex? The table in the meeting room." Christ! "Yeah, she likes me to bend her over the end of the table and fuck her silly!" Err, which end would that be? "The far end"

Managers always wondered why there was suddenly a mad scramble for the seats in the meeting room so we wouldn't have to sit at the far end. "It's funny, but none of you lot ever rushed to get to a meeting before. It's great to see such enthusiasm isn't it?" They said as they took their place at the far end of the table.
(Fanta Menace Is tall enough to see over the fence, Thu 6 Sep 2007, 15:39, Reply)

My Dad is a nurse
'nuff said really
(Multi-Coloured Pop Shop "twat with a ukulele", Thu 6 Sep 2007, 15:37, Reply)

Near miss.,
Well, my father has never been prudish, and doesn’t understand that some people don't like to see his 54 year old knackers first thing in the morning, so I might be able to excuse him for this horror.

Helping him take an old mattress to the tip. He'd taken the usual rout of ramming it in the car til it fit, which proved almost fatal. As I walk round the car to his side to help remove said matters, the dear father decides it's time to open the door. Now, mattresses are full of springs, and springs, and these had been compressed by the door, which when opened, was flung open with huge force, sailing past my fathers hand, swinging, corner first at my knackers. I still remember the panic of the inevitable pain, yet miraculously the door stopped less then an inch from my 16 year old ball bag leaving me white as a sheet and shaken.
"Christ on a bike Dad!" I yelled. "That would have been ironic, neutered by the very mattress you were conceived on!" Was his response. I had to carry a mattress my parents had done it on. :(
(Mong goose, Thu 6 Sep 2007, 15:25, Reply)

true story
My supervisor at my old work remarked to a co-worker that his idea of great sex was "fucking a girl, cutting her head off, and still fucking her."

The real TMI here wasn't his statement, so much as the genetic information encoded in his DNA.
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Thu 6 Sep 2007, 15:19, Reply)

Definitely TMI
I used to work in advertising sales. One day, it was press day and a client swore blind that she'd sent me copy for her advertisement days ago. I have a funny name which people often spell wrong, so the first port of call was the badmail folder, to see if anything had turned up there. Sure enough, I tracked it down - but not before I found the following, sent to the misspelled email address of one of my colleauges:

Dear Mr So-and-So,
Just to remind you that the date and time of your colonic irrigation is Monday at 5.30

Arrrgggghhh!
(grandmasterfluffles Come to my Armageddon party on, Thu 6 Sep 2007, 15:14, Reply)

Can You Look At This?
When I was a lot younger than I am today, my little bro was dumb enough to ask me to look at his nob! (TMi on it's own I know but read on, please).

Being hung over to hell, a member of the same family and male I instructed him to go fcuk himself.

I should have left it at that point, but like I say I still had way to long to go before I was sober, so I asked "Why"?

Turns out the night before his girlfriend (now wife of some 20 years) had been whacking him off and had all but ripped his foreskin of!!!!

She thought his oh's and ah's were sounds of joy?

And yes they have been married for 20 years......

It was bad enough for a night in hospital......

Why he didn't say he'd caught his bell end in his zip I'll never know, clearly a loss of blood caused a moment of insane honesty.....


I still can't shake her hand without counting my fingers........
(Dark Matter All The Wonders In The World & We Invent Boredom, Thu 6 Sep 2007, 15:09, Reply)

In the pub last night
On a work nigth out last night with some of the blokes who were at head office on a training course. The conversations turned to one of the guys' Prince Abert as I suppose is inevitable. Acording to said pierced man:

"The ring came out so i had to lubricate it and all i had was fairy liquid. For the next three days whenever i went to do a piss i made bubbles!"

If that's not TMi i don't know what is!
(caitlinbree, Thu 6 Sep 2007, 15:06, Reply)

During the American Revolution / War of Independence
the British army was trained to fight standing in ranks. The Americans, being woodsmen/hunter types, would hide behind trees and snipe at them. Some of the British realised that the Americans' tactics were more practical, and so copied them - and often the British officers would order them to get back into line, presumably telling them off for skulking behind bushes like damn cowards. Given that the Americans won, that would be too much in formation.

(btw this is apparently an actual true story)
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Thu 6 Sep 2007, 15:05, Reply)

Why does an epesiotomy fail?
As a bloke I thought that I would never need to know what one was or why it would fail... how wrong could I be?





An epesiotomy can fail, as I (well, my girlfriend really) found out after the birth of our daughter, due to the flesh surrounding the wound becoming infected.

Just in case you haven't figured it out, failed surgical procedure due to one rotten cunt.
(Tibbins, Thu 6 Sep 2007, 15:05, Reply)

Too much information about my mum's minge
My mother is a hardcore feminist. Nowt wrong with that - I'm very much a feminist myself. But unfortunately my mother is of the scary-hairy, ball-breaking, man-hating maniac variety.

Mum grew up in a very traditional family who thought that sex was Bad and Evil and Nasty and Wrong, and that her ladyparts were to be ashamed of. On the day her mother first discovered a few spots of blood on her underwear that Mum hadn't even noticed herself, she came home from school to find all the curtains drawn and her mother whispering in shameful tones about "growing up" and "women's problems" and "that time of the month".

So naturally, Mum was determined that I shouldn't have such an awful upbringing, that I should grow up with a happy, healthy attitude to sex and a good relationship with my ladyparts. So far so good. But alas, let's just say the pendulum swung rather too far in the opposite direction.

For as far back as my memory goes, she regularly tried to engage me in conversation about my vagina. She used to tell me all about her sex life at great length and in great detail. She lectured me on the harmlessness of masturbation (It's okay...as long as you wash your hands afterwards). She used to test me on all of this. Seriously, when other kids were learning to read, I was locating the clitoris on a colour-coded diagram. Then when I was fourteen, she packed me off on a week-long orchestral tour with a twelve-pack of condoms. Twelve! If I got that much sex now I'd be very happy, not to mention a bit behind on my work.

But the worst thing she ever did, worse than the masturbation tutorials, worse than inviting me to inspect her labia, was locking the two of us in a tiny toilet cubicle together and making me watch her insert a tampon. She stood up, naked from the waist down, put one pale, heavily-muscled leg up against the wall for easy access and barked a running commentary at me as she shoved a tampon into her bloody vagina, greying pubes glistening, a maniacal, I-am-woman-hear-me-roar expression in her mad, rolling eyes.

I now rebel against her by shaving my legs, wearing sparkly eyeshadow and not forcing small children to look at my vagina.
(grandmasterfluffles Come to my Armageddon party on, Thu 6 Sep 2007, 15:04, Reply)

Today's Special
A long, long time ago I can still remember when I was doing a bit of business and went to the pub with a lady from the other firm for a bit of lunch.

As we were up at the bar examining the menu, this woman staggered into us and apologised for being so drunk, but she was getting a bit of Dutch courage because she was on the way to a hospital to have a colostomy.

Bon Appetit!
(><(((">, Thu 6 Sep 2007, 15:03, Reply)

Dental hygiene and sports
A gay mate of ours is rather over fond of saunas. His type is bears, you know the sort, large, burly, fond of honey. He likes nothing more than a hairy puckered tea-towel holder of an arse squashing his face, allowing him to delve his tongue into every nook and cranny.
Sometimes though, a picture is worth a thousand words, and a mime is worth well, at least the same as a picture.
Picture then, if you will, his mime of 'down hill ski-ing' (with a cock either side of him as a 'make-do' ski pole) and 'flossing' with a large, fleshy pink piece of dental-tape in either hand.
(Countryslicker, Thu 6 Sep 2007, 14:59, Reply)

You trod in what now?
A few days back I went to an equestrian competition with my little girl. Unfortunately, as daddy is a lazy tightarse, I couldn't be bothered to put the tent up and we ended up sleeping in the horsebox overnight. Equally unfortunately, as daddy got legless, accosted some of the more bigger breasted competitors, downed a kebab and turned in early, I ended up staggering outside to answer the call of nature at 3am and not in any good way either. Squatting against a hedge in the pitch black, arse sticking out, and tearing paper strips off your daughters copy of horse and hound is not ideal. It was, how shall I say, splattery and full of kebaby goodness.

Anyway, I woke up again at about 6am to the sound of arguing. As I leaned out of the horsebox window I caught a quick glimpse of the farmer getting lamped rather hard on the chin by the neighbouring camper. "And keep your fucking dog on a lead as well you dirty bastard" he said, throwing some tissues over a hedge.

Apparently I had inadvertantly shat on his tent.
(Mong The Merciless Older not wiser, Thu 6 Sep 2007, 14:58, Reply)

A Mate of mine,
told me about when he worked for the NHS doing all kinds of testy type things on blood, piss, shit and the odd amputated limb.

One day a smallish clear bag arrived in his in-tray with a stubbly pink worm inside. It had one big brown eye and stank of shit.

He had been delivered an amputated anus, with 5 inches of poop-tunnel still attached.

He used it a a pencil topper on his bosses biro when he wasn't in the room.


I didn't want or need to know that you could have your ass cut off and still be alive.
(Colonel Santiago Introduced surprised kitty to the world., Thu 6 Sep 2007, 14:53, Reply)

Brace yourselves, people.
Since winning Qatar footballer of the year, Khalfan Ibrahim is constantly all over their televisions, radios, newspapers and advertising boards, endorsing a seemingly never-ending stream of products.

I definitely think it’s a case of too much ‘in-form-Asian’?



What? Apeloverage doesn’t have the monopoly on this kind of shite, you know.


I’m sorry….so really, really sorry. It will NEVER happen again. I’m just very very bored.

Then again...If you click 'I like this', it might force the odd-punnaging one to 'up his game'
( Pooflake braces for an onslaught..., Thu 6 Sep 2007, 14:36, Reply)

Pooflake:
Is that TMI?

Yes.

I'm trying to eat lunch here, and I'm laughing so much that I'm spitting half-masticated breadcrumbs all over my desk.

And I said "masticated".
( Enzyme is powered by sunlight, Thu 6 Sep 2007, 14:20, Reply)

"I used to fuck your mother to this song on that couch you're sitting on"...
Oh dear.
(beatpig understands subliminalesbianmessagaying., Thu 6 Sep 2007, 14:04, Reply)

Gayness
I have a gay friend who think nothing of telling me and anyone else who will listen about what he got up to the night before, who with, and how good it was........It's when he tries to show me the pictures on his phone that it starts to go badly wrong
(jidler changed his name on, Thu 6 Sep 2007, 14:02, Reply)