Well bully for you.
The toilet paper dispensers here at work are square “caves” set into a metal boxlike device (which also contains the hygiene trash) that is mounted on the wall of the stall. The square “caves” were designed and sized at a time before the “super gargantua” size of toilet paper rolls became commonplace. That means the janitor jams the oversized roll into the small “cave” and that it’s stuck tightly in place for the first user. There is no possible way to start that roll without digging away at it and yanking off wads to downsize it a little.
Hang it back on the hook for the next guy, of course.
Dude. It’s really not that hard. Just put your finger at some point past where the very end is stuck to the roll, rip it there, then unravel for 1 rotation to get the extra crap off (no pun intended). Voila. No need to fiddle with the end/starting point of the roll at all.
Dishwasher.
Corncobs were in vogue in times and places where flush toilets (and running water) were still avante garde (sp?). Fortunately, the contemporary (agri)culture provided an abundent supply of corn cobs.
On re-read, I realize you’re talking present tense. Sorry. Maybe I should get to work on genetically engineering a strain of corn with a cob that is septic system compatible. If I can get the kernals to naturally contain Olestra, then I can use it to make low-fat corn chips. Then I’m creating a greater demand for the cobs. What synchronicity!
This thread calls for a song – a duet even.
Call: Oh were is the Happy Lendervedder?
Reply: He’s gone to the poophouse, m’lord.
Call: * And has he any paper?*
Reply: Oh yes, forescore or more of Scott’s finest manila.
Call: Ah, t’is well,
for had he used a corncob,
he would have rasped
the fairest ass
to ever grace a poophouse.
Reply: Sir!
Does the fucking TP get penetrated by the fucking Swiss Army knife? Is it a 69? Does the TP need to masturbate due to the lack of that SAk?
Inquiring minds which wouldn’t have minded getting the description re. corncobs spoilered want to know.
A-fucking-men. Preach it, brother!
Why not just jump in the jacuzzi? 
The OP was hilarious but some of the subsequent comments are even better.
Now I’m having visions of running a load of cobs through the washing machine and hanging them up to dry on the line in the back yard.
My addition to these TP rants would be the TP dispensers in public washrooms that have the rolls on so tight that every time you pull it you get two squares, max. Fortunately, I’m working on my patience, so I can use these opportunities to calmly remove two squares at a time until I build up an acceptable wad.
I thought the line was, “Here I sit broken-hearted, paid my dime and only farted”.
How dare someone try to be clever around here!
Ha, I figured this would get brought up in here. Just wondering, from that scene in the movie, were we to believe that John Spartan went unwiped? (You know, with dingleberries?)
And yes, Scott TP is much too thin and uncomfortable. It’s all about Charmin or the generic equivalent.
“Charmin: For the discerning browneye.”
Oven.
Charmin Ultra. A big soft roll of salad-tossing goodness.
And no matter how you open the roll, it ALWAYS goes over the top when you hang it on the dispenser.
Nah. He just didn’t “go” when he saw there was no paper. After the dialogue about the seashells, he went to the little wall monitors and cussed up a storm, collecting the fine-sheets as they were dispensed with each obscenity. Then he took the handful of paper and returned to the bathroom.
Be glad for what you have, be it paper or cob.
I know a guy who runs wilderness canoe trips where everyone uses only sticks. No joke.
Aww, somebody remembered!
:pride:
:shame: