Shit Spelling. Shit Grammar. A rant.
Apologies in advance, but I *have* to rid my intellectual bowels of this massive lump.


Firstly if you have problems with spelling - no need to feel any shame or fear, it's a common problem and also one easily dealt with. Use Firefox. Set up the English Dictionary Automatic Spell Checker. Each word you misspell will appear with a dotted red line underneath. You need only click on the word and you will be given the opportunity to choose the correct spelling. Alternatively write your QOTW offering in Word or similar and run a spell check.


Secondly if you are unable to use proper English Grammar either purchase or borrow (from a library - if there are any left around you) a copy of the excellent 'Eats Shoots and Leaves' by Lynne Truss. This deals with most common problems and will put you on the path to righteousness.

As a small note….


Its - this is the possessive version - e.g. The monkey grimaced. Its turds were massive.

It's - this is a contraction - a shortening of two words - It and Is - e.g. It's nearly the end of the week, time for a new Question.

Their, There and They're

Their - Possessive - Their house - the house belonging to them.

There - Positional - Over there - Their house is over there.

They're - Contraction - They are - They're over there in their house.

Also beware of homophones - these are not phones from nokia (ha!) but words which sound the same but are spelt differently.

Please, please for the love of all that's good and ginger be aware of these few small rules - use a spell checker, read your post before you click Post and most importantly ensure you know how to use (what is for the majority of you) your FIRST language!


Aaaaaannnnnndddddd breathe.



/rant over.


*EDIT*

And another thing....

Aside from Your (possessive - belonging to - Your fart was smelly.
And You're (contraction)You are smelly.

There is also the abomination that is commonly known as the Greengrocers' apostrophe...most recently sighted in fucking Tescos in Hertfordshire.
CD's CD's!?!? CD'S WHAT?!
's means it belongs to someone!

Plurals are shown by a simple s or es

*Goes off to lie down. Yes LIE down not LAY - Chickens lay (so arguably I could...) but people LIE down.
( chickenlady b3ta's very own Elizabeth Taylor, Wed 2 Apr 2008, 11:53, 189 replies)

Now frank has got the wednesday ball rolling
Many moons ago I was involved with a bonfire building society, this story involves the remains of an enormous wood bonfire.

It's an Ashy Story.

*gets thoroughly bored of this question and hopes against hope that next weeks will be better*
( Bazongaloid, Wed 2 Apr 2008, 11:47, Reply)

Seen on a pavement in Dundee
Written by a homeowner, obviously unhappy about dog fouling at the end of his drive.



Possibly a pearoast. Can't remember!
( K2k6 has a proper job these days, Wed 2 Apr 2008, 11:29, 1 reply)

My brother
...tells a tale of the time he farted and was 100% convinced he'd followed through.

He rushed to the nearest lavatory to assess the damage to find....

...a single grain of rice. This has disturbed him ever since.

So, I suppose, a 'no shit' story, really.
( Monty Boyce, My cheese game is strong, Wed 2 Apr 2008, 11:28, Reply)

Chili bean
I farted and felt a pop, on examination one perfectly preserved chili bean.
( Brandy_Bumwinkle, Wed 2 Apr 2008, 11:19, Reply)

British Scat 1 - Canadian Bog 0
I was on holiday with my then girlfriend in the wonderful city of Calgary, Canada.

We were staying with her aunty and uncle for the duration of the 2 weeks, during which time they were also moving house.

Myself and the GF had the joys of helping them move as part of the boarding/food etc deal, which was fine.

The manual transportation of a particularly heavy box coupled with the "New Place - Delayed Shit" issue I sometimes get, I had a rumble of intestinal movement, knew I would need to go very soon, gently placed the box down and dashed for the loo.

The house they moved into was brand new, literally the flooring had only just been placed the day before they moved in. This meant all the plumbing was untested, but considered working.

I was that test.

I had one of the most impressive man-craps I have ever experienced, it was big but not a painful transition to the pan, so I was pleased.

I flushed whilst admiring the glory of the deep-sea cable I had just laid, until I realised that the pan was no longer filled with 6 inches of water, but 12, and rising...

It got to the base of the rim, and seemed to slow, which in turn slowed my 'enthusiasm' to unblock the problem. This was my downfall.

The cistern was refilling at an alarming rate, as it turns out, someone hadn't fitted a float to the valve, so it was now on constantly.

I let out the kind of high-pitch yelp only a man could and grabbed the plunger. It took *15* proper full pumps to rid the pan of this monster, that along with the several litres of water starting to make a nice puddle on the floor, my life was decending into hell.

My girlfriend's aunty, bless her, was happy to clear it up, but I was far to embaressed to let her!
(Ethelred is watching cheese grow, Wed 2 Apr 2008, 11:17, 1 reply)

reverser
noun.

to sit facing the wall on your mates convinience and deposit a stool far above the reaches of the waterline.

also see *flip reverse it* and german inspection toilets.
(magictorch, Wed 2 Apr 2008, 11:13, Reply)

Toilet Scrawlings
Many years ago I worked at an animal feed mill, and once had to use the factory bogs for a crap, rather than the much more pleasant office toilets. I got sat down in one of the traps and spotted a piece of grafitti that has stuck with me ever since:

"If your shit weighs more than 6 1/2 pounds, please chop and lower by hand"

Wise words indeed.........
(wobbegong69 has been soaring................, Wed 2 Apr 2008, 11:11, Reply)

Amsterdam: the home of good shit...
A few years ago, I went with a group of mates on a chap’s weekend to Amsterdam. One of the lads was returning to Seth Efrica, having decided that although his cultural roots in the North East were lovely and all, he was getting a bit fed up of being cold and wet. For his send off, he decided that a weekend of cultural activity in Holland was the order of the day *cough cough*.

So about 12 of us descended on Amsterdam, and proceeded to spend the weekend getting pissed and stoned. A couple of the lads decided to sample a bit more of the local ‘culture’ at closer quarters (not me, I hasten to add, not my cup of tea, plus my libido had well and truly deserted me at that point thanks to being doped up on antidepressants – a particularly unwanted side effect). The declaration from one of the lads that the lady of the night he had serviced was ‘really tight’ had us pissing ourselves for hours afterwards…

Our ‘hotel’ was basic, to say the least, a major problem being that the bathroom bulb had blown immediately on arrival. Despite several requests, no-one at reception bothered to come and replace the bulb, and, being a windowless room, this made basic functions like having a shower and going to the bog a bit problematic. Fortunately, we were in our room to sleep, and not much else – ablutions could be carried out in whatever bar/café we happened to be in at the time.

Somehow, the combination of much alcohol, much dope, and nothing to eat really except pizza, conspired to render me completely shitless over the course of the weekend. Except when it came to being back at the airport, approximately 10 minutes before boarding commenced, and I felt a disquieting cramp in my stomach, followed by what felt like a hoard of angry prisoners trying to make their way to freedom with a particularly large battering ram. I had no choice but to go off in search of the well-appointed airport toilets and lock myself away in a cubicle.

I strained.

I sweated.

I flinched slightly as the cold water splashed me and the turd I had been cultivating came away like a fall of soot from a chimney…

As is somehow always the case, the temptation to have a look was too strong, but I was shocked to discover that I had just given birth to the Lambton Worm, which was now wrapping itself around the u-bend in an attempt to totally fuck up the Amsterdam sewage system. Try as I might, the bastard just wouldn’t flush, and, as much as one of my pet hates is walking into a cubicle to be confronted with someone’s unwanted child, I had no choice but to leave it there, in all its glory, otherwise I’d miss my flight. Even as I tried one more flush, I could feel it mocking me…

So, to anyone who used that cubicle after me, I’m truly sorry. And in the unlikely event that you’re a b3tard, gaz me and I’ll reimburse your therapy fees…
( Davros' Granddad a voice of calm reason in a world of spastics., Wed 2 Apr 2008, 10:52, 2 replies)

Just thought of one!
at work the toilets are really old - the bowl was designed by a man in a flat-cap in the 1800's. Due to this it is quite easy for me to divulge in a guilty pleasure of sitting quite far back and leaving a streak that the old style water jet bits just don't reach :) this building will be nocked down soon and hopefully in the new one we will have toilets that are attached to the floor properly and don't have a 40's style chain sysern
( SiX and his hat, Wed 2 Apr 2008, 10:36, Reply)

any of you had the experience
when you sit down in the next cubicle to your mate on some sponsored walk school thing, merrily chatting away, when said mate decides to leave furtivly, leaving you chatting to a randomer having a pee?

no?

oh.
(magictorch, Wed 2 Apr 2008, 10:22, 1 reply)

A Shit....By Royal Appointment
About 10 years ago now (christ, that's come around quick) I used to work in a computer shop next to Swansea Train Station. We all turned up for work, and setup the shop as per. Outside however, there were alot of police about getting ready for the Queen and Prince Phillip to come off the train to tour Swansea (something to do with the National Assembly at the time).
So it's not every day the fecking Queen drives past your work place so 3 of us go outside and wait for "her mag's" to cruise past. After 10 minutes the police proceed past followed by the Germans in thier public waving vehicle. Phillip sees us and starts waving like hell while smiling happily, so we wave back. What a nice racist we think. Queeny however has a look of shock on her face looking down the road. We follow her stare.....to see 2 tramps who've come out of an alley next to the building opposite, one of which is laying a pipe on the pavement just as the Royal car passed. The look on the Queen's face is one which will make me laugh for many years :)
Welcome to Swansea ma'am.

I think this is a rp, but it's a goody
( Jeccius Steam Borderlands 2 junkie, Wed 2 Apr 2008, 10:20, 6 replies)

Poo/Love crossover.
I've often thought the feeling of being in love is a lot like the feeling of not needing a shit any more.
You don't exactly know what has changed, you just know that something is different inside. Things seem clearer, more defined. And you know that for a while at least you'll have your spirits lifted and a spring in your step.
(fatcock has decided to be more mysterious.....or has he?, Wed 2 Apr 2008, 9:47, Reply)

Squaddies
Posted as a reply to the guy who was on about girls dresses being ruined but thought it was too good a story for a reply only so here it is, plus it's my birthday today! 28! Hurrah!

Told to me by a mate of mine who is ex army:
They were all in the mess one night and the usual challenges came out until one bloke says:
'I'll drink a shit in a pint glass'
A glass is taken into the toilet and a few minutes later is duly returned filled with one floating log as per.

The log was floating on milk (WTF??).

Laddo then proceeded to drink this milky surprise while most other members of the bar were busy puking up.
When asked what it was like the hero squaddie said:
'it was alright but the turd bouncing on my nose kept distracting me'

Bloody squaddies eh?!?
(Fuckarma was masturbating into your handbag, Wed 2 Apr 2008, 9:39, 7 replies)

On the other hand...
Have you ever really thought about what a marvellous thing the human body is? You shove all kinds of stuff in at one end and without being asked, the body processes it with the help of chemicals produced in-house and the assistance of friendly bacteria conveniently lodged in your gut to keep you fit and well and, without troubling you so that you can think about art and love and sex and things.

If you are unlucky and accidentally eat a poisoned shellfish, then the body detects this and takes precipitous action to clear the offending article out with all due haste and expediency. If you are so ungrateful as to poison yourself with, say, excessive amounts of alcohol, it will give you a bit of lee-way before drawing the line and emptying the system again to save you from yourself. It will do its best to metabolise the booze as quickly as possible, and makes sure you lie still and don't eat or drink anything else while it deals with the mess you've caused.

Most of the time it'll not bother you or even let you know that it's hard at work, once it's finished it's job, it'll tell you it's time to dump the waste, which it has thoughtfully packaged into a compact turd or suitably dilute liquid.

ALL HAIL THE BODY.
(Che Grimsdale Best before:, Wed 2 Apr 2008, 9:39, 1 reply)

The Turdinator
Well I am one who can quite happily say that I used to enjoy getting of the damm hell of a call centre I used to work at for a nice bit of afternoon releif and contimplation in the toilets and take a good bit of time relaxing from the last idiot phoning up about their mortgage asking stupid questions.

One day I go to sink my battlesh*ts and I walk into my fave of 3 cubicals and what do i find, The most amazing poo I have ever seen, It was a work of art. The person who laid this had tallent, They had managed to lay one long unbroken poo just above the waterline from the front around the toilet almost to meet up with the begining without so much as a crack or break. Naturally I could not flush this work of art so I called my friend into inspect this delight and he decided to go get his Digital Camera and take photo's of this which he still has to this day (Must see if i can find a pic and link). Well all being said and done we thought it was time to send him to the big sewer in the sky but he refused to go no matter of flashing. At this point we returned to our desks to carry on working and sending the photo round on company e-mail! Followed by streams of people using said toilet.

About 30-45 mins later what can only be described as someone in full Bio Hazzard gear i.e. plastic suit, spaceman style helmet walks into the toilet. About 5 mins later he walks out with (no word of a lye) a small yellow Bio Hazzard marked bag.

Me and my friend were in stiches.

Length? About 60cm.
(tfi049113 Was found alive on, Wed 2 Apr 2008, 8:59, 1 reply)

Punny tummy
I once met a member of the opposition at a spa treatment centre.

That was a shiatzu Tory
(frankspencer, Wed 2 Apr 2008, 8:56, Reply)

My guilty pleasure
is replying to the qotw two weeks late.
( Lightguy hail satan, Wed 2 Apr 2008, 8:02, Reply)

The halitosus express
Reposted question so reposted story.

A few years ago i met a bloke who worked for the council drainage department who shared this story with me. His job was to inspect the sewer system . Normally they did this by sending a robot thing with a camera on down the pipes. They were looking for illegal connections , broken pipes , blockages that sort of thing.

In the main sewer lines every so often their is a sort of pan which acts as a collection point . The idea is that any big or heavy items will collect in these pans before they can block the pipes or a pumping station. Think what kids flush down the toilet keys, toys etc and you can understand why .

AS the story goes our hero was doing a routine inspection in a quiet suburban street one day just after lunch time. Sitting in the back of the van watching the monitors they hear a knock. Opening the door their is an old man looking a bit distressed. Turns out this man lived a few doors down and had just managed to flush his false teeth down the toilet. (apparently this is quite a common thing to happen ,god knows how)
He wanted to know if they could "keep an eye out for them"
The chances of the teeth being found were pretty remote .

However as it turned out at the next collection pan along , sitting covered in shit on top of a heap was a set of false teeth!! The robot was able to get hold of them and bring them back when the inspection was finished.

The crap covered gnashers were carefully presented to the old man "um are these yours?" . The old man picked then up , (no gloves here!) brushed them on his shirt a couple of times and PUT THEM IN HIS MOUTH. A few test chomps later " yup these are mine thanks" and walked off happy.

My old mate said to me that he had seen and smelt lots of awful stuff in that job, but this was the only time that he ever came close to loosing his lunch.





legnth ??? boiled in a bucket of bleach for at least a week with any sense
(welgar, Wed 2 Apr 2008, 7:02, Reply)

This happened about a year ago in Norwich.
It was my sister's 18th, and so me and her friends all went to Lucky star (a chinese restaurant) for a buffet style chinese meal. Food was good, and after a while the Absynthe was being passed around. Then I wasn't very experienced with alcohol, and so after a few sips I was very happy.

Then I decided to be daring and eat the spiciest and hottest food available, whilst having to drink 4 glasses of coke, all in a minute. This was then followed by two full bowls of ice cream, and major indigestion.

So, about 15 minutes later, every hole in my body needed to expel. So I ran to the Big Norwich library thing (I still don't know the name), to go to shit, throw up, etc. These were closed except the disabled one, and I was too chicken to request the door to be opened through the microphone. This led to go to the next shop.

The next shop was McDonalds, which unfortunately for me closed the toilets at a certain time.

Finally, the final shop was a small coffee shop with open toilets. I ran to them, where only the disabled toilet was free. So I took shit number one in there.

As soon as I heard flushing I knew another toilet was free. The ladie's. This is where I took shit 2 and throw up 1.

When I thought I had finished, I flushed. All the toilet paper and solids that hadn't digested blocked the toilet, and made it start to run. I also started to run, but to the next toilet which was made available half way through the job.

Final toilet was the men's. Here I took my final shit (when you have the runs, there's always the end part that seems to trickle out if you push hard enough). Whilst having this shit, I needed to be violently sick again, and so I had to quickly turn round and spew. This toilet didn't run, but there were marks that were too high for the water to wash off in the pan.

After this, I quickly but carefully walked out (trying not to raise suspicion of my long period of time in the toilets with the manager) to greet everyone having a coffee outside. I drank their coffees and explained in a bit less detail, and we left.

Next time I'll say no to...well everything.
(lickmyballsandscrotum, Wed 2 Apr 2008, 6:37, Reply)

I know girls don't poo, but.....
(why don't I remember these things until the QOTW is almost over?)
Here is a story my mother has never let me forget.

When I was but a little flirt, my parents decided upon a bit of DIY. I couldn't have been more than 2 or 3 when they dragged me off to the hardware store with them. Naturally, I felt the need to poo. I informed mother, but she didn't understand my toddler babble, so I started wandering around the store by myself.

She found me soon after......perched on a display toilet, my one-piece outfit around my ankles, looking through a sales brochure. Apparently, I had even asked a passing salesman for a cup of water because she spotted one heading my way with said cup.

She pulled me off the toilet while apologizing to the salesman profusely. That was when she glanced in the display toilet and realized that I had done more than a little pee. She offered to clean it up but the salesman was not having it.

Unfortunately, this is not where the story ends.

When I moved out of the parental abode into my first apartment, I had a lovely landlord. He popped in while my parents were over for dinner shortly after I moved in. He was a retired gentleman, and as it transpired, retired from the very same hardware store of my childhood shame. Mother felt the need to share the story. My landlord started chuckling and said, "I remember that. And of course I had to bring her a cup of water, she was such a darling little thing!"

Oh the shame. I wish I had made this story up......it took 6 months before I was too embarassed to face my landlord.
( flirting with badgers What? It sounded good at the time., Wed 2 Apr 2008, 5:00, 2 replies)

how not to win friends and influence people
many moons ago i was embarked, along with a bunch of other lucky mid-teens, on my expedition for my duke of edingburgh's award. 555 miles through the lake district with a rucksack full of junk.
i had run out fo water, and decided to fill my canteen from the delightful clear cold mountain spring... i did use puritabs, however i was eager and foolish, and didn't let em work.


so i caught cryptosporidium- being as how there was only the minimum number of people to allow the trip, if i had dropped out, i would have meant all of us going home. so i soldiered on, periodically stopping to shit rusty water/puke.
after two days, we finished, and as a treat our team leader bought us all a chinese, and some beers. i was feeling marginally better, so i took full advantage of this. gorging myself on chinese, i sat merrily in the little bus heading back to conrwall.

about 30mins from the nearest motorway services, the horrors took me. i was pale, sweating, leaking little parps and toots of the most foul, sulphurous gas you can imagine. for a while, i genuinely considered shitting out of the back doors of the minibus, girls present or not. as we pulled in to the service station, i threw the sliding door open, and hit the ground at a dead run. barely making it to the toilet, i dropped trow, and unleashed... a small rather mediocre fart.
confused, i decided discretion to be the better part of valour. i sat tight.
as i heard the rest of the guys in the group, trop in, i felt a rumble.. then all hell broke loose. the toilet was, alas, a stainless steel monstrosity, with tiled walls and floor.. the acoustics could rival the sydney opera house. i unleashed something that is most closely likened to someone launching a bucket of irish stew and peanuts through a jet engine, the place reverberated to the sound of my frantically spasming bowels, and my gentle whimpers... as the noise died away, i heard another, unmistakeable noise.. the sound of muffled laughter. as i emerged form the cubicle, pale and traumatised, to be greeted with the sight of several grown men trying not to laugh too hard while pissing, and my entire group in sitches, and a horrified-looking cleaner with a bucket.

poor bastard.


poor poor bastard.
(UppityDamnPrimate LET'S OPEN THIS F*CKING PIT UP, Wed 2 Apr 2008, 4:52, 2 replies)

One time, in band camp.. well no not band camp.
One time I was out on my motorbike (yammie FS1E for those that remember them) and I was miles away from anywhere. I don't quite know how it got so bad so fast as I was riding along the Northamptonshire countryside happy as larry one minute and the next minute my stomach was hurting enough to bring tears to your eyes. well I knew a shit was in order but I was in the middle of nowhere with no bog roll and no place to poo.

Eventually I found a little spinney thing to the side of the road and parked the bike and did the old walk with only the bits of leg below the knees moving type walk so as to conserve my sphincter strength to keep back whatever it was that was attempting to forcibly remove itself from me. After a stealthy look around I found a place with some burdock leaves and squatted and let loose a leviathan poo the likes of which I have never seen before or since thank heavens. Burdock leaves help with stinging nettles but they aren't much cop at wiping the unseeing eye. I did the best I could and got moving leaving this freak of nature to fend for itself.

The rest of the ride home was uncomfortable and by the time I did make it home my bum was very sore. I went upstairs and got some fresh undies and went in the bathroom and tried to clean up again with soaped up toilet paper.. that was painful. A grownup with nappy rash..

I also had to pre-wash the soiled kek's so as to avoid any embarrassment there too!

The end.
(Lurkaloid awarded wanking black belt on, Wed 2 Apr 2008, 3:44, Reply)

Poo-ing at work
First of all, I'm one of the "wait till I'm home" types. I don't like sitting on public shitters unless I'm not feeling well and not doing so would result in the worst of the social faux pas.

If I do have to use a public bog I'll generously lay toilet paper on all the touchy parts. I don't trust those paper thin ass-gaskets they have in the bogs.

But none of this is relevant to my story.

About 4 years ago we had a spate of fecal misdeeds in the mens lavvy's at work. Now there were some that thought it was a pissed off coworker and some tried to blame the lack of flushing on the plumbing system. Every so often you'd go into the mens room and there would be a scale model of mount killimanjaro made out of arse cake. You'd think they'd have to back an elephant into the stall to create such a masterpiece but I don't think elephants crap brown. Anyway it got to the point where the VP of human resources (nice guy) called a meeting for all the male workers in the office to our largest conference room. He had a hard time starting the meeting but once he did it got quite funny. "I shouldn't have to be telling grown men how to use the toilet, but it appears that someone in our midst hasn't quite got it down" - the upshot was that anytime there was a deliberate mess in the stall we were to immediately call the woman in charge of security and she'd call the building people and they'd do the flushing and poo sticking and she'd then go to the security tapes (no not of the bogs you sick pervy's) of the lobby outside and try and nail down who was responsible.

I suppose they must have found out who did it and told them off or fired them because it's been years since anything of that nature has been discovered.

I did laugh when I reported to the lady that there had been a fecal misdeed in the 2nd floor south bathrooms stall 1.

Here endeth my story
(Lurkaloid awarded wanking black belt on, Wed 2 Apr 2008, 3:34, Reply)

about 2 hours ago
as a drunken dare, i decided to poo in a carrier bag with full intention of leaving it on the twat-headed neighbours doorstep. Sadly, my not-so-stealthy friend left it on the doorstep as we noticed the guy sat in his car. He saw what was going on, yelled "what are you doing?" and we ran inside.

We also hid. All 6 of us. On the stairwell in the pitch black.

After about 20 minutes we decided the coast was clear and now we're awaiting some kind of police visit in the morning to accompany a hangover. Fortunately for us, we're going to the beach instead! Yippee!
(WillyNilly SillyBilly, Wed 2 Apr 2008, 3:09, Reply)

Mrs Livinbin's post(s) reminded me...
of a joke last night. Now that she has kindly posted a pic, I might as well share the joke for those of you who haven't heard it:

A man on a state-of-the-art plane had an urgent need for a poo, but the men's room was occupied. The stewardess, seeing his plight, allowed him to use the ladies room, but with a warning. The stewardess told the man "under NO circumstances should you push the 3 buttons on the wall"

The man entered the ladies loo, sat down for his poo, and noticed the buttons on the wall. As he had nothing else to pass the time while 'in conference', he became curious about the 3 buttons he saw marked "WW", "PP", and "ATR".

By the time his work was done, curiosity got the better of him and he reasoned, "it is in the ladies loo for all the birds to use, what harm would pushing a button possibly do?" He pushed the button marked "WW". Warm water came out of a jet and gently splashed his bum. He was surprised how nice it felt.

Thinking that the first button was so good, he pressed the button marked "PP". A powder puff popped out and patted his bum dry. He squirmed with pleasure and thought, "Wow, these women have it made! That stewardess just didn't want men to find out how great women have it." Thinking that, he pushed the button marked "ATR".

When the man awoke in a bed, there happened to be a nurse standing nearby, The man was confused (and a bit scared) and asked, "Where the hell am I? I was on a plane, in the loo...now I'm here? What happened?"

The nurse replied, "Do you remember the stewardess warning you not to press the buttons?"

The man hesitated, "umm...well, yes I do remember that."

The nurse gave the man a stern look and told him, "The last button marked 'ATR' means 'Automatic Tampon Remover'. Your penis is under your pillow."
( flirting with badgers What? It sounded good at the time., Wed 2 Apr 2008, 2:25, Reply)

Technology
As part of my job I often end up supporting weird and wonderful bits of kit related to IT.

A couple of years ago the boss gave me a Blackberry so I could learn how it functioned and support all the Execs who, too be honest, couldn't work an Etch-A-Sketch.

So there I was, fiddling with the Blackberry, when a new mail arrived.

"Hi Legless

Just want to know how you're coming along with the Blackberry

Boss"

So I replied.

"It's cool. I can now check my e-mail while having a shit - like I'm doing now

Legless"


To be honest, that's about the only valid reason I can see for owning one....

Cheers
( Legless Mister Stabby - shanks for the memory, Wed 2 Apr 2008, 1:47, Reply)

i LITERALLY break the toilet and other tales of terrory colon antics
ok.. qotw cherry has regrown.. here it goes again!

Started working for a new company. day 5 in my new shiny job, and i feel the bowels of brimstone begin to gear up for a toilet mugging.
capitulating to the will of my sulphurous masters, i make my way to the toilet, and have a gargantuan shit. we're not talking a normal human poop, this thing felt like shitting captain caveman's club sideways, i thought it would have to be born by c-section, i'm sweating like a madman, there's a stench like a million dogfarts stored in a room full of unwashedf socks, for a brief moment i went blind, and i saw the face of god- he looked unimpressed.
now up until this point it's normal. everyday. mundane. however i should point out i'm wearing a coat (on my way out for lunch) now being a large gentleman (just large not fatc per se) it's a tight squeeze in these minimalist midget toilets (even the bog itself is retardedly low- at 6'3" that's a long way to haul ass) and as i stand up,holding the trousers of immobilising doom, my jacket catches the stupidly placed loo-roll holder.
tottering, i am left with one option, to fall back , regroup, and try a new assault. so i flop back onto the silly low toilet, at which point it loudly and rather definitively informs me i'm not a safe weight to be dropped onto it at such a forceful and untoward angle, and becomes VERY unstable.
leaping to my feet like a startled cat, i pull up my keks, and turn round to be greeted by the sight of the water draining rapidly from the bowl (god knows where to- the floor was dry as a statue's tit) and my bowel behemoth jutting proudly form the water like a diorama of some majestic mountain range, complete with toilet paper snow.

i did what any sensible, responsible employee would do.

i checked for witnesses, flushed, and left rapidly.
i feel for the poor maintenance man who had to wrangle mount crapatoa..
(UppityDamnPrimate LET'S OPEN THIS F*CKING PIT UP, Wed 2 Apr 2008, 1:30, Reply)

got shat on
by a dirty great seagull just the other day in town. Didn't bother me too much, 'cept i was wearing my hoodie with the hood... down.

That was a proper slapstick moment when, having cleaned myself up, i proceeded to whip up my hood to protect my bonce from the precipitation that was occurring.

Yes.

Shite on my head twice.

Niiiiiiiiice.
(Schumann makes awesome quiches., Wed 2 Apr 2008, 0:18, Reply)