A few weeks ago, after a swim meet, I stepped into a shower stall and what was lying on the floor but two dried-up, used tampons. Of course I got out of there right away (decided to wait and shower at home) but later I pondered… two?? I mean, one person couldn’t have left them both there at the same time. Did one person see the first and go, “Hey! Great idea!” ? Did someone just make a habit out of it?
Ewww.
P.S. The cowboy toilet paper story had me rolling on the floor.
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She looks me straight in the eye and says: ‘What about these’, lifting her shirt up to reveal close to the nicest pair I’ve ever been priveleged to see, both pierced, and linked together by a fine gold chain.
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So? Were they Kosher?
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I will preview my posts.
I will . . .
I will never forget this as long as I live . . . . We headed out of Denver east on 70 across the High Plains, my lady driving, I riding in the passenger seat. We toked up some Sinsemilla bud until we got well and truly stoned. We must have been doing about 70 mph as we pulled alongside the car on our right and drove alongside it. I just glanced over at it. Then – jaw dropping wide open – did a double take.
*There was nobody in the car. *
Whoa . . .
When I looked again, I saw that the driverless car was being towed on a hitch by the car in front of it.
But for a couple seconds there, I was seriously buggin’!
I used to be a scout, and would help out on the annual cub-scout camps. One day was always set aside for a visit to a funfair.
This funfair had a ride called ‘The wall of death’; basically a 30 foot cyclinder, about 12 feet high with a door in it, mounted on a huge great spindle. The idea was that about 20 people would get in, the thing would rotate until you were stuck to the wall, then the floor sunk about 4 feet, leaving you up the wall.
Worked well enough.
Of course they hadn’t factored in our pack’s ability to consume truly heroic amounts of ice-cream, popcorn, McDonalds and Mars bars.
So they’re in there, shouting with merriment, when the inevitable happens; one kid pukes. And it’s quite a mixture, I can tell you.
Now, this thing is spinning round and the puke, of which there’s quite a quantity (I know, TMI, but hey) starts to migrate its way slowly round the walls, covering the other kids as it goes. They can see what’s coming, but can’t move. So the kids are screaming blue murder, and some get so grossed out they they puke too. You really had to have been there. Covered. Every last one.
You can only imagine the fun we had on the two-hour bus journey back to camp.
Ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow!
[Must have been on dad’s side of the family.]
These tragedies can be prevented. Your [sub]non-[/sub]deductible donation can help. To donate to the “Radar-enhanced Helmets for Owls” fund, contact me at my e-mail…
Unfortunately, no. Not for Boot Camp. Afterwards, sure. Too bad Recruiters are forbidden to mix with their prospects. I could’ve had a fair bit of fun with any number of cute lasses on that gig.
Okay, I have another one. When we were eleven years old, my sisters and I were walking along the beach by our house and this guy walks up to us. He say that he was supposed to meet someone there but that they hadn’t shown up. Now here is the real kicker, this guy is completely naked. So here are three eleven years old girls walking along the beach and this skanky old butt naked guy walks up and starts talking to them. I’ll tell you that that made my jaw drop. At the time I just thought that it was werid. Of course, upon later reflection, I realized that it was down right criminal. We did eventually report it to the police. That is an interesting story too. My sister got flashed four times that summer, and while she was looking through the books to report one flasher to the police, she saw a picture of the guy who came up to us on the beach. I never did find out what happened to that guy, but I hope that he got his just desserts. Sometimes, the thing that drops my jaw the most is the sick things that people do.
That “naked guy on beach” story reminds me of one.
In college, a bunch of us geek-guys went down to Wreck Beach in Vancouver to party, one evening. We’re getting loaded, sitting around a bonfire, when this guy comes up to us and asks if he can have a beer.
This guy is completely naked. Okay, Wreck Beach is a nude beach, but still… it’s dark. We all figured nude people go home or put clothes on when the sun goes down. We all look at this guy, in stunned silence, and then turn down his offer. This isn’t the jaw-dropping part, though.
He then offers us a joint for a few beer. Some of us decide to take him up on that, and everybody’s happy. The guy disappears back into the dark, and we continue partying.
It’s not until next day, when I soberly remember the incident, that I realize the guy did not have the joint in his hands when he approached us. So, like, where was he keeping it?
Behind one of his ears, of course – after all, he might have wanted to smoke it later in the evening…
Originally posted by rjung
Oh, believe me, I’ve been trying to convince myself of that ever since. Maybe I was too loaded, but I sure don’t recall his hand going to his ear.
Also, I’m pretty sure he asked for, and was given, only two beer. I clearly remember thinking we were getting a very good deal.
Maybe too good a deal…
The Late Night Train
Everytime I take a train late at night, something weird happens to me. I remember once, on an otherwise uneventful night, a normal-looking guy came, sat down and started to read a newspaper.
With handcuffs on.
I think everyone on the train was just a bit unsure of what to do. He had handcuffs on but he wasn’t actually doing anything. It was one of those things that you know you’re seeing, but at the same time, aren’t quite sure …
The Bird
I work in a shopping centre, and sparrows will often fly in through the doors or windows. Normally they stay around the food court where they can score free meals, but today, a bird had decided to come into our store. The weird thing was, this bird was actually hopping around the clothes and getting views from all angles. (ie. Standing on the racks and looking down, looking up, hovering around the middle.)
The sparrow then stood in the window display, perching itself delicately on a “We Accept Visa” cardboard sign. A couple of people stood outside the window and watched, with a lot of “Oh how cute!” comments.
Then, very theatrically, the sparrow fluffed its wings, the feathers around its bottom literally parted and …
plop! :eek:
Hello. Well, this is my first post, but everyone’s gotta start somewhere, eh? (Thanks Welfy!!! Love you!) Here’s my contribution:
Mom and i were driving home one night, and just as we were about to turn onto our road, another car (an SUV) turned toward us. It went DIRECTLY in front of us (on the wrong side of the road), stopped, waited there for a minute or two, then turned a 90 degree turn and ran into a bush. After trying to reverse and getting stuck (it was rainy, and there was a small ditch), it went over the bush, through these people’s yard, and drove away.
I was at a kinda dingy neighborhood bar to play a little pool. There was this very drunk woman at the pool table and I had to play her for the table.
I am pretty much kicking her ass so she decides to try to distract me by pulling her shirt up and showing me her breasts in the line of my shot. This is not where my jaw dropped; hey I’ve seen tits before and I’ll be damned if I am going to lose the game over this.
She then pulls a large baking potato out of her purse and puts it down the front of her stretchy pants. I never really figured out why she had the potato but she was really proud of it. She then prances about the bar touching her new bulge exclaiming “look at my boner look at my boner.” I’m still shooting jaw inplace.
I then lean over for the 8-Ball shot and she circles behind me, grabs my shoulders and starts humping away. The thought that goes through my head is, “I am being sodomised by a women with a big potato in her pants and there is no way in hell I am going to makes this 8-Ball.”
So predictably I scratch. I then pick up my jaw and go home. Later than night I mourned the loss of my rectal innocence by sitting curled up in the shower crying. Ok so the shower parts a lie but the rest is true.