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Don't Use cell phones in the bathroom (email spam)

Discussion in 'UO Siege Perilous' started by Lorddog, Nov 27, 2007.

  1. Lorddog

    Lorddog Crazed Zealot
    Stratics Veteran Stratics Legend

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    Don't Use cell phones in the bathroom

    All in all, it hadn't been a good day. Bad traffic, a malfunctioning computer, incompetent co-workers and a sore back all made me a seething cauldron of rage. But more importantly for this story, it had been over forty-eight hours since I'd last taken a dump. I'd tried to jumpstart the process, beginning my day with a bowl of bowel-cleansing fibre cereal, following it with six cups of coffee at work, and adding a bean-laden lunch at Taco Bell. As I was returning home from work, my insides let me know with subtle rumbles and the emission of the occasional tiny fart that Big Things would be happening soon. Alas, I had to stop at the mall to pick up an order for my wife. I completed this task, and as I was walking past the stores on my way back to the car, I noticed a large sale sign proclaiming, "Everything Must Go!" This was prophetic, for my colon informed me with a sudden violent cramp and a wet, squeaky fart that everything was indeed about to go. I hurried to the mall bathrooms. I surveyed the five stalls, which I have numbered 0 through 4 (I write a lot of software) for your convenience:

    0.Occupied.
    1.Clean, but Bathroom Protocol forbids its use, as it's next to the occupied one.
    2.Poo on seat.
    3.Poo and toilet paper in bowl, unidentifiable liquid splattered on seat.
    4.No toilet paper, no stall door, unidentifiable sticky object near base of toilet.

    Clearly, it had to be Stall ..1. I trudged back, entered, dropped trousers and sat down. I'm normally a fairly Shameful ****ter. I wasn't happy about being next to the occupied stall, but Big Things were afoot.

    I was just getting ready to bear down when all of a sudden the sweet sounds of Beethoven came from next door, followed by a fumbling, and then the sound of a voice answering the ringing phone. As usual for a cell phone conversation, the voice was exactly 8 dB louder than it needed to be. Out of Shameful habit, my sphincter slammed shut. The inane conversation went on and on. Mr. ****ter was blathering to Mrs.****ter about the ****ty day he had. I sat there, cramping and miserable, waiting for him to finish. As the loud conversation dragged on, I became angrier and angrier, thinking that I, too, had a crappy day, but I was too polite to yak about in public. My bowels let me know in no uncertain terms that if I didn't get crapping soon, my day would be getting even crappier.

    Finally my anger reached a point that overcame Shamefulness. I no longer cared. I gripped the toilet paper holder with one hand, braced my other hand against the side of the stall, and pushed with all my might. I was rewarded with a fart of colossal magnitude -- a cross between the sound of someone ripping a very wet bed sheet in half and of plywood being torn off a wall. The sound gradually transitioned into a heavily modulated low-RPM tone, not unlike someone firing up a Harley. I managed to hit the resonance frequency of the stall, and it shook gently.

    Once my ass cheeks stopped flapping in the breeze, three things became apparent:
    1.the next-door conversation had ceased;
    2.my colon's continued seizing indicated that there was more to come; and
    3.the bathroom was now beset by a horrible, eldritch stench.

    It was as if a gateway to Hell had been opened. The foul miasma quickly made its way under the stall and began choking my poop-mate. This initial "herald" fart had ended his conversation in mid-sentence.

    "Oh my God," I heard him utter, following it with suppressed sounds of choking, and then, "No, baby, that wasn't me (cough, gag), you could hear that (gag)??"

    Now there was no stopping me. I pushed for all I was worth. I could swear that in the resulting cacophony of rips, squirts, splashes, poots, and blasts, I was actually lifted slightly off the pot. The amount of stuff in me was incredible. It sprayed against the bowl with tremendous force. Later, in surveying the damage, I'd see that liquid poop had actually managed to
    ricochet out of the bowl and run down the side on to the floor. But for now, all I could do was hang on for the ride.

    Next door I could hear him fumbling with the paper dispenser as he desperately tried to finish his task. Little snatches of conversation made themselves heard over my anal symphony: "Gotta go... horrible... throw up... in my mouth... not... make it... tell the kids... love them... oh God..." followed by more sounds of suppressed gagging and retching.

    Alas, it is evidently difficult to hold one's phone and wipe one's bum at the same time. Just as my high-pressure abuse of the toilet was winding down, I heard a plop and splash from next door, followed by string of swear words and gags. My poop-mate had dropped his phone into the toilet.

    There was a lull in my production, and the restroom became deathly quiet. I could envision him standing there, wondering what to do. A final anal announcement came trumpeting from my behind, small chunks plopping noisily into the water. That must have been the last straw. I heard a flush, a fumbling with the lock, and then the stall door was thrown open. I heard him running out of the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

    After a considerable amount of paperwork, I got up and surveyed the damage. I felt bad for the janitor who'd be forced to deal with this, but I knew that flushing was not an option. No toilet in the world could handle that unholy mess. Flushing would only lead to a floor flooded with filth.

    As I left, I glanced into the next-door stall. Nothing remained in the bowl. Had he flushed his phone, or had he plucked it out and left the bathroom with nasty unwashed hands? The world will never know.

    I exited the bathroom, momentarily proud and Shameless, looking around for a face glaring at me. But I saw no one. I suspect that somehow my supernatural elimination has managed to transfer my Shamefulness to my anonymous poop-mate. I think it'll be a long time before he can bring himself to poop in public -- and I doubt he'll ever again answer his cell phone in the loo. And this, my friends, is why you should never talk on your phone in the bathroom.
     
  2. Jakylpops

    Jakylpops Guest

    It was much funnier the first time i read it...months ago.
     
  3. Rykus

    Rykus Guest

    Craig's List rocks.... [​IMG]
     
  4. AntiOTF

    AntiOTF Guest

    that's the funniest and grossest [censored] i ever heard! lol
     
  5. Kat SP

    Kat SP Guest

    Oh yeah? Have a look at this story! [​IMG]


    ***Edit***

    If you are offended by F Bombs and gross content, do not click on the link above. Skip it and move on to something else.
     
  6. Guest

    Guest Guest

    I was laughing so hard my toddler told me to stop and be quiet because she could hear her starfall over my laughs oh and starfall is at full volume
     
  7. Guest

    Guest Guest

    No matter how many times I read that one it still cracks me up.
     
  8. Jakylpops

    Jakylpops Guest

    <blockquote><hr>

    Oh yeah? Have a look at this story! [​IMG]


    ***Edit***

    If you are offended by F Bombs and gross content, do not click on the link above. Skip it and move on to something else.

    [/ QUOTE ]

    Wow I'd hate to think what might happen to anyone without a MOD in their pocket if they posted a link to something of this nature.
     
  9. AntiOTF

    AntiOTF Guest

    This one had me laughing so hard, to the point of choking!
     
  10. Kat SP

    Kat SP Guest

    Suck it, Jak!
     
  11. Patty Pickaxe

    Patty Pickaxe Certifiable
    Stratics Veteran Stratics Legend

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    OMG I just laughed so hard I think I woke up Enigma!!
     
  12. Nerf-Herder

    Nerf-Herder Guest

    Imagine a story like that one, only it involves the use of a sink...
     
  13. Sir Ha-ward

    Sir Ha-ward Guest

    I have one just as good, can i get someone on the BG private forums to copy and paste it on here, Ibichi?

    Ok ill be posting it in a new thread, hopefully the mods will be forgiving ....
     
  14. Guest

    Guest Guest

    Well where was it?
     
  15. Guest

    Guest Guest

    Let it go. trust me.
     
  16. Guest

    Guest Guest

    <blockquote><hr>

    Craig's List rocks.... [​IMG]

    [/ QUOTE ]
    Yes it does!
    Rant: The Dog Ate What?
    Date: 2006-12-04, 11:22AM EST


    We have a dog by the name of Kismet. He came to us in the Summer of 2001 from the rescue program I was heavily involved with. For those of you who are unfamiliar with this type of adoption, imagine taking in a 10-year-old child whom you know nothing about and committing to doing your best to be a good parent.

    Like a child, the dog came with his own idiosyncrasies. He will only sleep on the bed, on top of the covers, nuzzled as close to my face as he can get without actually performing a French kiss on me. Lest you think this is a bad case of no discipline, I should tell you that hubby and I tried every means to break him of this habit including locking him in a separate bedroom for several nights. The new door cost over $200. But I digress.

    Five weeks ago we began remodeling our house. Although the cost of the project is downright obnoxious, it was 20 years overdue AND it got me out of cooking Thanksgiving dinner for family, extended family and a lot of friends that I like more than family most of the time. I was, however, assigned the task of preparing 124 of my famous yeast dinner rolls for a delayed celebration among friends this past weekend. I am still cursing the electrician for getting the new oven hooked up so quickly. It was the only appliance In the whole house that worked, thus the assignment.

    I made the decision to cook the rolls on Friday evening to reheat on Saturday morning. Since the kitchen was freshly painted you can imagine the odor. Not wanting the rolls to smell like Sherwin Williams latex paint #586, I put the rolls on baking sheets and set them in the living room to rise for 5 hours. After 3 hours, hubby and I decided to go out to eat, returning in about an hour.

    An hour later the rolls were ready to go in the oven. It was 8:30pm. When I went to the living room to retrieve the pans, much to my shock one whole pan of 12 rolls was empty. I called out to Kismet and my worst nightmare became a reality. He literally wobbled over to me. He looked like a combination of the Pillsbury dough boy and the Michelin Tire man wrapped up in fur. He groaned when he walked. I swear even his cheeks were bloated.

    I ran to the phone and called our vet. After a few seconds of uproarious laughter, he told me the dog would probably be OK, however, I needed to give him Pepto Bismol every 2 hours for the rest of the night. God only knows why I thought a dog would like Pepto Bismol any more than kids do when they are sick.
    Suffice to say that by the time we went to bed the dog was black, white and pink. He was so bloated we had to lift him onto the bed for the night.

    Naively thinking the dog would be all better by morning was very stupid on my part. We arose at 7:30 and as we always do first thing; took the dogs out to relieve themselves. Well, Kismet was as drunk as a sailor on his first leave. He was running into walls, falling flat on his butt and most of the time when he was walking his front half was going one direction and the other half was either dragging the floor or headed 90 degrees in another direction. He couldn't lift his leg to pee, so he would just walk and pee at the same time.

    When he ran down the small incline in our backyard he couldn't stop himself and nearly ended up running into the fence. His pupils were dilated and he was as dizzy as a loon. I endured another few seconds of laughter from the vet (second call within 12 hours) before he explained that the yeast had fermented in his belly and that he was indeed drunk. He assured me that, not unlike most binges we humans go through, it would wear off after about 4 or 5 hours and to keep giving him Pepto Bismol.

    Afraid to leave him by himself in the house, hubby and I loaded him up and
    took him with us to our friend's house. A 10 to 15 minute drive. Rolls firmly secured in the car (124 less 12) and drunk dog leaning from the back seat onto the console of the car between hubby and I, we took off.

    Now I know you probably don't believe that dogs burp, but believe me when I say that after eating a tray of risen unbaked yeast rolls, DOGS WILL BURP. These burps were pure Old Charter. They would have matched or beat any smell in a drunk tank at the police station. But that's not the worst of it. Now he was beginning to fart and they smelled like baked rolls. God strike me dead if I am not telling the truth! We endured this for the entire trip, thankful she didn't live any further away than she did.

    Once Kismet was firmly placed in my friend's garage with the door locked, we finally sat down to enjoy our celebration with friends. The dog was the topic of conversation all morning long and everyone made trips to the garage to witness my drunk dog, each returning with a tale of Kismet's latest endeavor to walk without running into something.

    Of course, as the old adage goes, "what goes in must come out," and Kismet was no exception. Granted if it had been me that had eaten 12 risen, unbaked yeast rolls, you might as well have put a concrete block up my behind, but alas a dog's digestive system is quite different from yours or mine. I discovered this was a mixed blessing when we prepared to leave my friend's house. Having discovered his "packages" on the garage floor, we loaded him up in the car so we could hose down the floor.

    This was another naive decision on our part. The blast of water from the hose hit the poop on the floor, and the poop on the floor withstood the blast from the hose. It was like Portland cement beginning to set up and cure. We finally tried to remove it with a shovel. I (obviously no one else was going to offer their services) had to get on my hands and knees with a coarse brush to get the remnants off of the floor.

    And as if this wasn't degrading enough, the dog in his drunken state had walked through the poop and left paw prints all over the garage floor that had to be brushed too.

    Well, by this time the dog was sobering up nicely so we took him home and dropped him off before we left for our second celebration at another friend's house.

    I am happy to report that as of today (Monday) the dog is back to normal both in size and temperament. He has had a bath and is no longer tricolor. None the worse for wear I presume.

    I am also happy to report that just this evening I found 2 risen unbaked yeast rolls hidden inside my closet door. It appears he must have come to his senses after eating 10 of them but decided hiding 2 of them for later would not be a bad idea.

    Now, I'm doing research on the computer as to how to clean unbaked dough from the carpet, and how was your day?
     
  17. Guest

    Guest Guest

    AEowyn i was gonna talk [censored] for ressurecting this topic after your necrothread post the other day but good post and im glad i did a little smoking before i read it flippin hislarious