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Posted: 4/3/2005 2:53:40 PM EDT
I would have to say the story about the guy eating the macaroni beef at ryan's and the calamity that ensued thereafter in the men's restroom. I was rolling for 10 solid minutes after reading that.
Link Posted: 4/3/2005 2:54:20 PM EDT
Two words: Fire. Airplane.
Link Posted: 4/3/2005 2:55:01 PM EDT

Originally Posted By DzlBenz:
Two words: Fire. Airplane.


+1

and the anal bead thing.
Link Posted: 4/3/2005 2:55:32 PM EDT
The propane bottle that flew back over the firing line and bounced off of a new SUV. That, and MattSD face-sledding drunk down the stairs.
Link Posted: 4/3/2005 2:57:03 PM EDT
[Last Edit: 4/3/2005 2:57:50 PM EDT by RodeoFan]
You should be required to put a link to the story. I haven't heard all of them.

Please???
Link Posted: 4/3/2005 2:57:11 PM EDT
Link Posted: 4/3/2005 2:57:17 PM EDT

Originally Posted By RodeoFan:
You should be required to put a link to the story. I haven't heard all of them.



+1
Link Posted: 4/3/2005 2:57:19 PM EDT
Link Posted: 4/3/2005 2:57:32 PM EDT

Originally Posted By CajunMojo:

Originally Posted By DzlBenz:
Two words: Fire. Airplane.


+1

and the anal bead thing.



and the range report
Link Posted: 4/3/2005 2:58:51 PM EDT
Anal beeds...

Pic coming soon...
Link Posted: 4/3/2005 3:00:10 PM EDT
Piccolos voting adventure
Link Posted: 4/3/2005 3:00:14 PM EDT



The Man-on-man backrub story.
Link Posted: 4/3/2005 3:00:52 PM EDT
[Last Edit: 4/3/2005 3:01:05 PM EDT by HK_Shooter_03]


Link Posted: 4/3/2005 3:01:15 PM EDT
Link Posted: 4/3/2005 3:05:10 PM EDT

Originally Posted By AvengeR15:


The Man-on-man backrub story.



that was hilarious also
Link Posted: 4/3/2005 3:11:01 PM EDT
the aircraft repair cards.
"replaced midget"
Link Posted: 4/3/2005 3:16:09 PM EDT
Link Posted: 4/3/2005 3:19:37 PM EDT
Link Posted: 4/3/2005 3:22:04 PM EDT
Just one story!?! Try this ENTIRE thread!!

www.ar15.com/forums/topic.html?b=1&f=5&t=313501
Link Posted: 4/3/2005 3:23:52 PM EDT
tag
Link Posted: 4/3/2005 3:37:28 PM EDT
Link Posted: 4/3/2005 3:45:08 PM EDT

Originally Posted By DigDug:
Now, I know that there is a lot of embellishment that occurs on this group and I am aware that a small number of things are perhaps sheer fabrication, but I have a story to tell that is the absolute truth.

Funniest damn thing that has ever happened to me. A couple of weeks ago we decided to cruise out to Ryan's Steakhouse for dinner. It was a Wednesday night which means that macaroni and beef was on the hot bar, indeed the only night of the week that it is served. Wednesday night is also kid's night at Ryan's, complete with Dizzy the Clown wandering from table to table entertaining the little bastards. It may seem that the events about to be told have little connection to those two circumstances, but all will be clear in a moment.

We went through the line and placed our orders for the all-you-can-eat hot bar then sat down as far away from the front of the restaurant as possible in order to keep the density of kids down a bit. Then I started my move to the hot bar. Plate after plate of macaroni and beef were consumed that evening, I tell you - in all, four heaping plates of the pseudo-Italian ambrosia were shoved into my belly. I was sated. Perhaps a bit too much, however.

I had not really been feeling well all day, what with a bit of gas and such. By the time I had eaten four overwhelmed plates of food, I was in real trouble. There was so much pressure on my diaphragm that I was having trouble breathing. At the same time, the downward pressure was building. At first I thought it was only gas, which could have been passed in batches right at the table without too much concern.

Unfortunately, that was not to be. After a minute or so it was clear that I was dealing with explosive diarrhea. It's amazing how grease can make its way through your intestines far faster than the food which spawned the grease to begin with, but I digress... I got up from the table and made my way to the bathroom. Upon entering, I saw two sinks immediately inside the door, two urinals just to the right of the sinks, and two toilet stalls against the back wall. One of them was a handicapped bathroom. Now, normally I would have gone to the handicapped stall since I like to stretch out a bit when I take a good shit. But in this case, the door lock was broken and the only thing I hate worse than my wife telling me to stop cutting my toenails with a pair of diagonal wire-cutters is having someone walk in on me while I am taking a shit.

I went to the normal stall. In retrospect, I probably should have gone to the large, handicapped stall even though the door would not lock because that bit of time lost in making the stall switch proved to be a bit too long under the circumstances. By the time I had walked into the regular stall, the pressure on my ass was reaching Biblical portions. I began "The Move."

For those women who may be reading this, let me take a moment to explain "The Move." Men know exactly what their bowels are up to at any given second. And when the time comes to empty the cache, a sequence of physiological events occur that can not be stopped under any circumstances. There is a move men make that involves simultaneously approaching the toilet, beginning the body turn to position ones ass toward said toilet, hooking ones fingers into ones waistline, and pulling down the pants while beginning the squat at the same time. It is a very fluid motion that, when performed properly, results in the flawless expulsion of shit at the exact same second that one’s ass is properly placed on the toilet seat. Done properly, it even assures that the choad is properly inserted into the front rim of the toilet in the event that the piss stream lets loose at the same time; it is truly a picture of coordination rivaling that of a skilled ballet dancer.

I was about halfway into "The Move" when I looked down at the floor and saw a pile of vomit that had been previously expelled by one of those little bastards attending kids night. It was mounded up in the corner so I did not notice it when I had first walked into the stall. Normally, I would not have been bothered by such a thing, but I had eaten so much and the pressure upward was so intense, that I hit a rarely experienced gag reflex. And once that reflex started, combined with the intense pressure upward caused by the bloated stomach, four plates of macaroni and beef started coming up for a rematch.

What happened next was so quick that the exact sequence of events is a bit fuzzy, but I will try to reconstruct them as best I can. In that moment of impending projectile vomiting, my attention was diverted from the goings-on at the other end. To put a freeze frame on the situation, I was half crouched down to the toilet, pants pulled down to my knees, with a load of vomit coming up my esophagus.

Now, most of you know that vomiting takes precedence over shit no matter what is about to come slamming out of your ass. It is apparently an evolutionary thing since shitting will not kill you, but vomiting takes a presence of mind to accomplish so that you do not aspirate any food into the bronchial tubes and perhaps choke to death. My attention was thus diverted. At that very split second, my ass exploded in what can only be described as a wake...you know, as in a newspaper headline along the lines of "30,000 Killed In Wake of Typhoon Fifi" or something similar. In what seemed to be most suitably measured in cubic feet, an enormous plug of shit the consistency of thick mud with embedded pockets of greasy liquid came flying out of my ass.

But remember, I was only halfway down on the toilet at that moment. The shit wave was of such force, and of just such an angle in relation to the back curve of the toilet seat, that it ricocheted off the back of the seat and slammed into the wall - at an angle of incidence equal to the angle at which it initially hit the toilet seat. Then I sat down. Recall that when that event occurred, I was already halfway to sitting anyway and had actually reached the point of no return. I have always considered myself as relatively stable gravitationally, but when you get beyond a certain point, you're going down no matter how limber you may be. Needless to say, the shit wave, though of considerable force, was not so sufficient so as to completely glance off the toilet seat and deposit itself on the walls - unlike what you would see when hitting a puddle with a high-pressure water hose; even though you throw water at the puddle, the puddle gets moved and no water is left to re-form a puddle. There was a significant amount of shit remaining on about one-third of the seat rim which I had now just collapsed upon.

Now, back to the vomit...

While all the shitting was going on, the vomit was still on its way up. By the time I had actually collapsed on the toilet, my mouth had filled up with a goodly portion of the macaroni and beef I had just consumed. OK, so what does the human body instinctively do when vomiting? One bends over. So I bent over. I was still sitting on the toilet, though. Therefore, bending over resulted in me placing my head above my now slightly-opened legs, positioned in between my knees and waist. Also directly above my pants which were now pulled down to a point just midway between my knees and my ankles. Oh, did I mention that I was wearing not just pants, but sweatpants with elastic on the ankles. In one mighty push, some three pounds of macaroni and beef, two or three Cokes, and a couple of Big, Fat Yeast Rolls were deposited in my pants...on the inside...with no ready exit at the bottom down by my feet. In the next several seconds, there were a handful of farts, a couple of turds, and the event ended. Yet I was now sitting there with my pants full of vomit, my back covered in shit that had bounced off the toilet, spattered on three ceramic-tiled walls to a height of about five feet, and still had enough force to come back at me, covering the back of my shirt with droplets of liquid shit. All while thick shit was spread all over my ass in a ring curiously in the shape of a toilet seat.

And there was no fucking toilet paper. What could I do but laugh. I must have sounded like a complete maniac to the guy who then wandered into the bathroom. He actually asked if I was OK since I was laughing so hard I must have sounded like I was crying hysterically. I calmed down just enough to ask him if he would get the manager. And told him to have the manager bring some toilet paper. When the manager walked in, he brought the toilet paper with him, but in no way was prepared for what happened next. I simply told him that there was no way I was going to explain what was happening in the stall, but that I needed several wet towels and I needed him to go ask my wife to come help me. I told him where we were sitting and he left. At that point, I think he was probably assuming that I had pissed just a bit in my pants or something similarly benign.

About two minutes later, my wife came into the bathroom not knowing what was wrong and with a certain amount of worry in her voice. I explained to her (still laughing and having trouble getting out words) that I had a slight accident and needed her help. Knowing that I had experienced some close calls in the past, she probably assumed that I had laid down a small turd or something and just needed to bring the car around so we could bolt immediately. Until I asked her, I'm sure she had no idea that she was about to go across the street and purchase me new underwear, new socks, new pants, a new shirt, and (by that time due to considerable leakage around the elastic ankles thingies) new sneakers. And she then started to laugh herself since I was still laughing. She began to ask for an explanation as to what had happened when I promised her that I would tell her later, but that I just needed to handle damage control for the time being. She left.

The manager then came back in with a half-dozen wet towels and a few dry ones. I asked him to also bring a mop and bucket upon which he assured me that they would clean up anything that needed to be cleaned. Without giving him specific details, I explained that what was going on in that stall that night was far in excess of what I would expect anyone to deal with, what with most of the folks working at Ryan's making minimum wage of just slightly above. At that moment, I think it dawned on him exactly the gravity of the situation. Then that manager went so far above the call of duty that I will be eternally grateful for his actions. He hooked up a hose. Fortunately, commercial bathrooms are constructed with tile walls and tile floors and have a drain in the middle of the room in order to make clean up easy. Fortunately, I was in a commercial bathroom. He hooked up the hose to the spigot located under the sink as I began cleaning myself up with the wet towels.

Just as I was finishing, my wife got back with the new clothes and passed them into the stall, whereupon I stuffed the previously worn clothing into the plastic bag that came from the store, handing the bag to my wife. I finished cleaning myself off and carefully put on my new clothes, still stuck in the stall since I figured that it would be in bad taste to go out of the stall to get redressed, in the event I happened to be standing there naked and some little bastard kid walked in. At that point, I had only made a mess; I had not yet committed a felony and intended to keep it that way.

When I finished getting dressed, I picked up the hose and cleaned up the entire stall, washing down the remains toward the drain in the center of the room. I put down the hose and walked out of the bathroom. I had intended to go to the manager and thank him for all he had done, but when I walked out, three of the management staff were there to greet me with a standing ovation. I started laughing so hard that I thought I was going to throw up again, but managed to scurry out to the car where my wife was now waiting to pick me up by the front door.

The upshot of all this is that I strongly recommend eating dinner at Ryan's Steak House. They have, by far, the nicest management staff of any restaurant in which I have eaten.




That's some fucked up repugnant shit there. But very funny, excellent writing.
Link Posted: 4/3/2005 3:48:21 PM EDT
Link Posted: 4/3/2005 3:50:18 PM EDT
[Last Edit: 4/3/2005 3:51:15 PM EDT by Makarov_Mami]
Damn, that Ryan's story came damn close to making me pee on myself!
Link Posted: 4/3/2005 3:50:45 PM EDT

Originally Posted By DoubleFeed:

Originally Posted By tc6969:

Originally Posted By DoubleFeed:
The funniest stories are told in person.
"He just eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeased him over the side."



He had to tell that story 4 times!

He had already told it twice before you got there!


It was THAT GOOD!



I guess I missed it, tell it again!!!
Link Posted: 4/3/2005 3:50:54 PM EDT
DigDug...............that was disgusting and hilarious. I feel for you brother.
Ive had to 'Tactically Cut-and-Ditch' my underwear out in public restrooms due to unplanned rectal abortions and cant imagine what Id done in your situation.
Thank God your wife was there.
Link Posted: 4/3/2005 3:52:22 PM EDT
bump firing underwater with pics!
Link Posted: 4/3/2005 3:54:25 PM EDT
Link Posted: 4/3/2005 3:55:42 PM EDT

Originally Posted By ultramagbrion:
DigDug...............that was disgusting and hilarious. I feel for you brother.
Ive had to 'Tactically Cut-and-Ditch' my underwear out in public restrooms due to unplanned rectal abortions and cant imagine what Id done in your situation.
Thank God your wife was there.



Always carry a tactical knife for emergency egress.
Link Posted: 4/3/2005 3:56:00 PM EDT
The one with the guy Begging for advice after he fed his raisn loving nephew Prunes saying they were raisins and the resultant ....well, you know!!!!
Link Posted: 4/3/2005 3:56:01 PM EDT
There have been so many, but 1GUNRUNNER's airplane adventure is #1.
Link Posted: 4/3/2005 3:57:12 PM EDT
The bloodninja chats would have to be on up there- Also the story about the guy(maybe DRFridge, can't remember)with an upset stomach heading for the restroom in the restaurant he was in at the time, and "the move" you practice where the pants come down and ass hits the toilet all in one smooth move. I shed tears over that one!
Lee
Link Posted: 4/3/2005 3:58:56 PM EDT
Link Posted: 4/3/2005 3:59:02 PM EDT

Originally Posted By DigDug:
Now, I know that there is a lot of embellishment that occurs on this group and I am aware that a small number of things are perhaps sheer fabrication, but I have a story to tell that is the absolute truth.

Funniest damn thing that has ever happened to me. A couple of weeks ago we decided to cruise out to Ryan's Steakhouse for dinner. It was a Wednesday night which means that macaroni and beef was on the hot bar, indeed the only night of the week that it is served. Wednesday night is also kid's night at Ryan's, complete with Dizzy the Clown wandering from table to table entertaining the little bastards. It may seem that the events about to be told have little connection to those two circumstances, but all will be clear in a moment.

We went through the line and placed our orders for the all-you-can-eat hot bar then sat down as far away from the front of the restaurant as possible in order to keep the density of kids down a bit. Then I started my move to the hot bar. Plate after plate of macaroni and beef were consumed that evening, I tell you - in all, four heaping plates of the pseudo-Italian ambrosia were shoved into my belly. I was sated. Perhaps a bit too much, however.

I had not really been feeling well all day, what with a bit of gas and such. By the time I had eaten four overwhelmed plates of food, I was in real trouble. There was so much pressure on my diaphragm that I was having trouble breathing. At the same time, the downward pressure was building. At first I thought it was only gas, which could have been passed in batches right at the table without too much concern.

Unfortunately, that was not to be. After a minute or so it was clear that I was dealing with explosive diarrhea. It's amazing how grease can make its way through your intestines far faster than the food which spawned the grease to begin with, but I digress... I got up from the table and made my way to the bathroom. Upon entering, I saw two sinks immediately inside the door, two urinals just to the right of the sinks, and two toilet stalls against the back wall. One of them was a handicapped bathroom. Now, normally I would have gone to the handicapped stall since I like to stretch out a bit when I take a good shit. But in this case, the door lock was broken and the only thing I hate worse than my wife telling me to stop cutting my toenails with a pair of diagonal wire-cutters is having someone walk in on me while I am taking a shit.

I went to the normal stall. In retrospect, I probably should have gone to the large, handicapped stall even though the door would not lock because that bit of time lost in making the stall switch proved to be a bit too long under the circumstances. By the time I had walked into the regular stall, the pressure on my ass was reaching Biblical portions. I began "The Move."

For those women who may be reading this, let me take a moment to explain "The Move." Men know exactly what their bowels are up to at any given second. And when the time comes to empty the cache, a sequence of physiological events occur that can not be stopped under any circumstances. There is a move men make that involves simultaneously approaching the toilet, beginning the body turn to position ones ass toward said toilet, hooking ones fingers into ones waistline, and pulling down the pants while beginning the squat at the same time. It is a very fluid motion that, when performed properly, results in the flawless expulsion of shit at the exact same second that one’s ass is properly placed on the toilet seat. Done properly, it even assures that the choad is properly inserted into the front rim of the toilet in the event that the piss stream lets loose at the same time; it is truly a picture of coordination rivaling that of a skilled ballet dancer.

I was about halfway into "The Move" when I looked down at the floor and saw a pile of vomit that had been previously expelled by one of those little bastards attending kids night. It was mounded up in the corner so I did not notice it when I had first walked into the stall. Normally, I would not have been bothered by such a thing, but I had eaten so much and the pressure upward was so intense, that I hit a rarely experienced gag reflex. And once that reflex started, combined with the intense pressure upward caused by the bloated stomach, four plates of macaroni and beef started coming up for a rematch.

What happened next was so quick that the exact sequence of events is a bit fuzzy, but I will try to reconstruct them as best I can. In that moment of impending projectile vomiting, my attention was diverted from the goings-on at the other end. To put a freeze frame on the situation, I was half crouched down to the toilet, pants pulled down to my knees, with a load of vomit coming up my esophagus.

Now, most of you know that vomiting takes precedence over shit no matter what is about to come slamming out of your ass. It is apparently an evolutionary thing since shitting will not kill you, but vomiting takes a presence of mind to accomplish so that you do not aspirate any food into the bronchial tubes and perhaps choke to death. My attention was thus diverted. At that very split second, my ass exploded in what can only be described as a wake...you know, as in a newspaper headline along the lines of "30,000 Killed In Wake of Typhoon Fifi" or something similar. In what seemed to be most suitably measured in cubic feet, an enormous plug of shit the consistency of thick mud with embedded pockets of greasy liquid came flying out of my ass.

But remember, I was only halfway down on the toilet at that moment. The shit wave was of such force, and of just such an angle in relation to the back curve of the toilet seat, that it ricocheted off the back of the seat and slammed into the wall - at an angle of incidence equal to the angle at which it initially hit the toilet seat. Then I sat down. Recall that when that event occurred, I was already halfway to sitting anyway and had actually reached the point of no return. I have always considered myself as relatively stable gravitationally, but when you get beyond a certain point, you're going down no matter how limber you may be. Needless to say, the shit wave, though of considerable force, was not so sufficient so as to completely glance off the toilet seat and deposit itself on the walls - unlike what you would see when hitting a puddle with a high-pressure water hose; even though you throw water at the puddle, the puddle gets moved and no water is left to re-form a puddle. There was a significant amount of shit remaining on about one-third of the seat rim which I had now just collapsed upon.

Now, back to the vomit...

While all the shitting was going on, the vomit was still on its way up. By the time I had actually collapsed on the toilet, my mouth had filled up with a goodly portion of the macaroni and beef I had just consumed. OK, so what does the human body instinctively do when vomiting? One bends over. So I bent over. I was still sitting on the toilet, though. Therefore, bending over resulted in me placing my head above my now slightly-opened legs, positioned in between my knees and waist. Also directly above my pants which were now pulled down to a point just midway between my knees and my ankles. Oh, did I mention that I was wearing not just pants, but sweatpants with elastic on the ankles. In one mighty push, some three pounds of macaroni and beef, two or three Cokes, and a couple of Big, Fat Yeast Rolls were deposited in my pants...on the inside...with no ready exit at the bottom down by my feet. In the next several seconds, there were a handful of farts, a couple of turds, and the event ended. Yet I was now sitting there with my pants full of vomit, my back covered in shit that had bounced off the toilet, spattered on three ceramic-tiled walls to a height of about five feet, and still had enough force to come back at me, covering the back of my shirt with droplets of liquid shit. All while thick shit was spread all over my ass in a ring curiously in the shape of a toilet seat.

And there was no fucking toilet paper. What could I do but laugh. I must have sounded like a complete maniac to the guy who then wandered into the bathroom. He actually asked if I was OK since I was laughing so hard I must have sounded like I was crying hysterically. I calmed down just enough to ask him if he would get the manager. And told him to have the manager bring some toilet paper. When the manager walked in, he brought the toilet paper with him, but in no way was prepared for what happened next. I simply told him that there was no way I was going to explain what was happening in the stall, but that I needed several wet towels and I needed him to go ask my wife to come help me. I told him where we were sitting and he left. At that point, I think he was probably assuming that I had pissed just a bit in my pants or something similarly benign.

About two minutes later, my wife came into the bathroom not knowing what was wrong and with a certain amount of worry in her voice. I explained to her (still laughing and having trouble getting out words) that I had a slight accident and needed her help. Knowing that I had experienced some close calls in the past, she probably assumed that I had laid down a small turd or something and just needed to bring the car around so we could bolt immediately. Until I asked her, I'm sure she had no idea that she was about to go across the street and purchase me new underwear, new socks, new pants, a new shirt, and (by that time due to considerable leakage around the elastic ankles thingies) new sneakers. And she then started to laugh herself since I was still laughing. She began to ask for an explanation as to what had happened when I promised her that I would tell her later, but that I just needed to handle damage control for the time being. She left.

The manager then came back in with a half-dozen wet towels and a few dry ones. I asked him to also bring a mop and bucket upon which he assured me that they would clean up anything that needed to be cleaned. Without giving him specific details, I explained that what was going on in that stall that night was far in excess of what I would expect anyone to deal with, what with most of the folks working at Ryan's making minimum wage of just slightly above. At that moment, I think it dawned on him exactly the gravity of the situation. Then that manager went so far above the call of duty that I will be eternally grateful for his actions. He hooked up a hose. Fortunately, commercial bathrooms are constructed with tile walls and tile floors and have a drain in the middle of the room in order to make clean up easy. Fortunately, I was in a commercial bathroom. He hooked up the hose to the spigot located under the sink as I began cleaning myself up with the wet towels.

Just as I was finishing, my wife got back with the new clothes and passed them into the stall, whereupon I stuffed the previously worn clothing into the plastic bag that came from the store, handing the bag to my wife. I finished cleaning myself off and carefully put on my new clothes, still stuck in the stall since I figured that it would be in bad taste to go out of the stall to get redressed, in the event I happened to be standing there naked and some little bastard kid walked in. At that point, I had only made a mess; I had not yet committed a felony and intended to keep it that way.

When I finished getting dressed, I picked up the hose and cleaned up the entire stall, washing down the remains toward the drain in the center of the room. I put down the hose and walked out of the bathroom. I had intended to go to the manager and thank him for all he had done, but when I walked out, three of the management staff were there to greet me with a standing ovation. I started laughing so hard that I thought I was going to throw up again, but managed to scurry out to the car where my wife was now waiting to pick me up by the front door.

The upshot of all this is that I strongly recommend eating dinner at Ryan's Steak House. They have, by far, the nicest management staff of any restaurant in which I have eaten.




THAT'S the one!!!
Link Posted: 4/3/2005 4:01:56 PM EDT
Two three words.

Arfcom Fear Factor

Entertaining for weeks, a total riot by times.
Link Posted: 4/3/2005 4:03:30 PM EDT
One of the bloodninja chats-

bloodninja: Ok baby, we got to hurry, I don't know how long I can keep it ready for you.

j_gurli3: thats ok. ok i'm a japanese schoolgirl, what r u.

bloodninja: A Rhinocerus. Well, hung like one, thats for sure.

j_gurli3: haha, ok lets go.
j_gurli3: i put my hand through ur hair, and kiss u on the neck.

bloodninja: I stomp the ground, and snort, to alert you that you are in my breeding territory.

j_gurli3: haha, ok, u know that turns me on.
j_gurli3: i start unbuttoning ur shirt.

bloodninja: Rhinoceruses don't wear shirts.

j_gurli3: No, ur not really a Rhinocerus silly, it's just part of the game.

bloodninja: Rhinoceruses don't play games. They f*cking charge your ass.

j_gurli3: stop, cmon be serious.

bloodninja: It doesn't get any more serious than a Rhinocerus about to charge your ass.
bloodninja: I stomp my feet, the dust stirs around my tough skinned feet.

j_gurli3: thats it.

bloodninja: Nostrils flaring, I lower my head. My horn, like some phallic symbol of my potent virility, is the last thing you see as skulls collide and mine remains the victor. You are now a bloody red ragdoll suspended in the air on my mighty horn.

bloodninja: Goddam am I hard now.

Lol!!!
Link Posted: 4/3/2005 4:04:12 PM EDT

Originally Posted By CajunMojo:

Originally Posted By DzlBenz:
Two words: Fire. Airplane.


+1

and the anal bead thing.


wats an anal beads? I want some.
Link Posted: 4/3/2005 4:05:19 PM EDT
Fire......Backpack, nuff said.
Link Posted: 4/3/2005 4:05:36 PM EDT
Piccolo and the SEC going to vote.

Link Posted: 4/3/2005 4:05:57 PM EDT

Originally Posted By critterflht:
One of the bloodninja chats-

bloodninja: Ok baby, we got to hurry, I don't know how long I can keep it ready for you.

j_gurli3: thats ok. ok i'm a japanese schoolgirl, what r u.

bloodninja: A Rhinocerus. Well, hung like one, thats for sure.

j_gurli3: haha, ok lets go.
j_gurli3: i put my hand through ur hair, and kiss u on the neck.

bloodninja: I stomp the ground, and snort, to alert you that you are in my breeding territory.

j_gurli3: haha, ok, u know that turns me on.
j_gurli3: i start unbuttoning ur shirt.

bloodninja: Rhinoceruses don't wear shirts.

j_gurli3: No, ur not really a Rhinocerus silly, it's just part of the game.

bloodninja: Rhinoceruses don't play games. They f*cking charge your ass.

j_gurli3: stop, cmon be serious.

bloodninja: It doesn't get any more serious than a Rhinocerus about to charge your ass.
bloodninja: I stomp my feet, the dust stirs around my tough skinned feet.

j_gurli3: thats it.

bloodninja: Nostrils flaring, I lower my head. My horn, like some phallic symbol of my potent virility, is the last thing you see as skulls collide and mine remains the victor. You are now a bloody red ragdoll suspended in the air on my mighty horn.

bloodninja: Goddam am I hard now.

Lol!!!



I love those!
Link Posted: 4/3/2005 4:06:27 PM EDT

Originally Posted By critterflht:
The bloodninja chats would have to be on up there- Also the story about the guy(maybe DRFridge, can't remember)with an upset stomach heading for the restroom in the restaurant he was in at the time, and "the move" you practice where the pants come down and ass hits the toilet all in one smooth move. I shed tears over that one!
Lee




hee hee hee
not Dr Frige....as I would have only brought him new clothes after saying SEE? I told you to take your IBS meds
Link Posted: 4/3/2005 4:08:09 PM EDT
Link Posted: 4/3/2005 4:10:34 PM EDT
Link Posted: 4/3/2005 4:13:42 PM EDT
[Last Edit: 4/3/2005 4:14:49 PM EDT by critterflht]

Originally Posted By DigDug:
Originally Posted By critterflht:
One of the bloodninja chats-



Was this the same guy who was gonna put on a little show by making the girl into his dick puppet?



Could be but I don't think I have that one. Here's another(a killer to me)

sweet17: Hi
bloodninja: hello
bloodninja: who is this?
sweet17: just a someone?
bloodninja: A someone I know?
sweet17: nope
bloodninja: Then why the hell are you bothering me?
sweet17: well sorrrrrry
sweet17: I just wanted to chat with you
bloodninja: why?
sweet17: nevermind your an jerk
bloodninja: Hey wait a minute
sweet17: yes?
bloodninja: look I'm sorry. I'm just a little paranoid
sweet17: paranoid?
bloodninja: yes
sweet17: of what?
sweet17: me?
bloodninja: No. I'm in hiding.
sweet17: LOL
bloodninja: Don't fucking laugh at me!
bloodninja: This shit is serious!
sweet17: What are you hiding from?
bloodninja: The cops.
sweet17: gimme a fucking break
bloodninja: I'm serious.
sweet17: I don't get it
bloodninja: The cops are after me.
sweet17: For what?
bloodninja: I'm wanted in three states
sweet17: For???
bloodninja: It's kindof embarrasing.
bloodninja: I had sex with a turkey.
bloodninja: Hello?
sweet17: You are fucking sick.
bloodninja: Send me your picture.
sweet17: why?
bloodninja: so I know you aren't one of them.
sweet17: One of what?
bloodninja: The cops.
sweet17: I'm not a cop i told you
bloodninja: Then send me your picture.
sweet17: hold on
bloodninja: Hurry up.
bloodninja: Are you there?
bloodninja: fuck you, cop!
sweet17: Hey sorry
sweet17: I had to do something for my mom.
bloodninja: I thought you were trying to find a picture to send to me.
bloodninja: When really you were notifying the authorities.
bloodninja: Weren't you!?
sweet17: thats not it
bloodninja: Then what?
sweet17: I don't want to send you the picture cause I'm not pretty
bloodninja: Most cops aren't
sweet17: IM NOT A FUCKING COP YOU DICKSHIT!
bloodninja: Then send me the picture.
sweet17: fine. What's your e-mail?
bloodninja: Just send it through here.
sweet17: alright *PIC*
sweet17: Did you get it?
bloodninja: Hold on. I'm looking.
sweet17: That was me back in may
sweet17: I've lost weight since then.
bloodninja: I hope so
sweet17: what?!?
sweet17: that hurt my feelings.
bloodninja: Did it?
sweet17: Yes. I'm not that much smaller than that now.
bloodninja: Will it make you feel better if I send you my picture?
sweet17: yes
bloodninja: Alright let me find it.
sweet17: kks
bloodninja: Okay here it is. *PIC*
sweet17: this isn't you.
bloodninja: I'll be damned if it ain't!
sweet17: You don't look like that.
bloodninja: How the hell do you know?
sweet17: cause your profile has another picture.
bloodninja: The profile pic is a fake.
bloodninja: I use it to hide from the cops.
sweet17: You look like the Farm Fresh guy lol
bloodninja: Well, you look like you ATE the Farm Fresh guy....
bloodninja: Not to mention all the groceries.
sweet17: Go fuck yourself
bloodninja: I was going to until I saw that picture
bloodninja: Now my unit won't get hard for a week.
sweet17: I shouldn't have sent you that picture.
sweet17: You've done nothing but slam me.
sweet17: you hurt me.
bloodninja: And calling me the Farm Fresh guy doesn't hurt me?
sweet17: I thought you were bullcrapping me!
bloodninja: Why would I do that?
sweet17: I can't believe that cops are after you
bloodninja: I can't believe Santa lets you sit on his lap..
sweet17: FUCK YOU!!!
bloodninja: You'd break both of his legs.
sweet17: You're a fucking wanker!
sweet17: I've been teased my whole life because of my weight
sweet17: and you make fun of me when you don't even know me
bloodninja: Ok. I'm sorry.
sweet17: No you aren't
bloodninja: You're right. I'm not.
bloodninja: HAARRRRR!
sweet17: I'm done with you
bloodninja: Aww. I'm sorry.
sweet17: I'm putting you on ignore
bloodninja: Wait a sec
bloodninja: We got off on the wrong foot.
bloodninja: Wanna start over?
sweet17: No
bloodninja: I'll eat your kitty
sweet17: You'll what?
bloodninja: You heard me.
bloodninja: I said I'd eat your kitty.
sweet17: I thought you said you couldn't get it hard after seeing my picture
bloodninja: Do I need a hard-on to eat your kitty?
sweet17: I'd like to know that the man eating me out is excited yes
bloodninja: Well I'm not like most men.
bloodninja: I get excited in different ways.
sweet17: Like what?
bloodninja: Do you really wanna know?
sweet17: I don't know
bloodninja: You have to tell me yes or no.
sweet17: I'm afraid to
bloodninja: Why?
sweet17: cause
bloodninja: cause why?
sweet17: well lets see
sweet17: you say you have sex with turkeys. You call me fat. then you wanna eat me out
sweet17: doesn't that seem strange to you?
bloodninja: Nope
sweet17: well its strange to me
bloodninja: Fine. I won't do it if you don't want me to
sweet17: I didn't say that
bloodninja: So is that a yes?
sweet17: I guess so.
bloodninja: Ok. I need your help getting excited though.
bloodninja: Are you willing?
sweet17: What do you need me to do?
bloodninja: I need you talk like a pirate.
sweet17: ???
bloodninja: When I start to go limp... you say "HARRRR!!!"
bloodninja: ok?
bloodninja: Hello?
sweet17: You can't be serious
bloodninja: Oh yes I am!
bloodninja: It's my fantasy.
sweet17: this is retarded
bloodninja: Do you want it or not?
sweet17: Yes I want it.
bloodninja: Then you'll do it for me?
sweet17: sure
bloodninja: Ok. Here we go.
bloodninja: I gently remove your panties and being to massage your thighs.
bloodninja: You get really juicy thinking about my tounge brushing up against them
bloodninja: I softly begin to tounge your wet kitty.
bloodninja: I run my tounge up and down your smooth cunt.
sweet17: mmmm yeah
bloodninja: uh oh ...going limp.
sweet17: Har
bloodninja: You gotta do better than that!
bloodninja: Your picture was really bad.
sweet17: HARRRRRRRRRRRR
bloodninja: Ahhhh. Much better. I feel your kitty get more moist with every stroke.
bloodninja: I softly suck on your clit bringing it in and out of my mouth.
bloodninja: Your juices run down my chin as your scent makes its way to my nose.
bloodninja: I begin to feel empowered by your femininity.
sweet17: mmmmmm you are good
bloodninja: I feel your thighs tighten as I fuck harder
bloodninja: going limp
sweet17: HARRRRRRR
bloodninja: Mmmm I grab your swelling buttocks in my hands.
bloodninja: You begin to sway back and forth.
bloodninja: going limp
sweet17: this is stupid
bloodninja: ...still limp
bloodninja: Do it!
sweet17: HARRRRRRRRRRRRR
bloodninja: I turn you around to lick your asshole.
bloodninja: I pry apart that battleship you call your ass.
bloodninja: I see poo nuggets hanging from the hair around your ass.
sweet17: WTF?!?!?
bloodninja: They stink really bad.
sweet17: OMG STOP!!!
bloodninja: I start to get fed up with your ugly ass
bloodninja: I tear off your wooden peg leg.
bloodninja: I ram it up your ass.
sweet17: YOURE A FUCKING PYSCHO!!
bloodninja: Then I pour hot carmel over your head.
bloodninja: And turn you into a fucking candy apple...
bloodninja: I kick you in the face!
sweet17: FUCK YOU DICKHEAD!!
bloodninja: The celluloid from your cheeks hits the side of the cabin...
bloodninja: Your parrot flys away.
bloodninja: ...going limp again.
bloodninja: Hello?
bloodninja: Say it!
bloodninja: HAARRRRRR!!!!!


Link Posted: 4/3/2005 4:20:26 PM EDT

Originally Posted By HK_Shooter_03:
Anal beeds...

Pic coming soon...



dude....you're 16.

I dont think you can even buy those without an adult present!
Link Posted: 4/3/2005 4:37:04 PM EDT
[Last Edit: 4/3/2005 4:37:44 PM EDT by DrFrige]

Originally Posted By critterflht:

Originally Posted By DigDug:
Originally Posted By critterflht:
One of the bloodninja chats-



Was this the same guy who was gonna put on a little show by making the girl into his dick puppet?



Could be but I don't think I have that one. Here's another(a killer to me)

sweet17: Hi
bloodninja: hello
bloodninja: who is this?
sweet17: just a someone?
bloodninja: A someone I know?
sweet17: nope
bloodninja: Then why the hell are you bothering me?
sweet17: well sorrrrrry
sweet17: I just wanted to chat with you
bloodninja: why?
sweet17: nevermind your an jerk
bloodninja: Hey wait a minute
sweet17: yes?
bloodninja: look I'm sorry. I'm just a little paranoid
sweet17: paranoid?
bloodninja: yes
sweet17: of what?
sweet17: me?
bloodninja: No. I'm in hiding.
sweet17: LOL
bloodninja: Don't fucking laugh at me!
bloodninja: This shit is serious!
sweet17: What are you hiding from?
bloodninja: The cops.
sweet17: gimme a fucking break
bloodninja: I'm serious.
sweet17: I don't get it
bloodninja: The cops are after me.
sweet17: For what?
bloodninja: I'm wanted in three states
sweet17: For???
bloodninja: It's kindof embarrasing.
bloodninja: I had sex with a turkey.
bloodninja: Hello?
sweet17: You are fucking sick.
bloodninja: Send me your picture.
sweet17: why?
bloodninja: so I know you aren't one of them.
sweet17: One of what?
bloodninja: The cops.
sweet17: I'm not a cop i told you
bloodninja: Then send me your picture.
sweet17: hold on
bloodninja: Hurry up.
bloodninja: Are you there?
bloodninja: fuck you, cop!
sweet17: Hey sorry
sweet17: I had to do something for my mom.
bloodninja: I thought you were trying to find a picture to send to me.
bloodninja: When really you were notifying the authorities.
bloodninja: Weren't you!?
sweet17: thats not it
bloodninja: Then what?
sweet17: I don't want to send you the picture cause I'm not pretty
bloodninja: Most cops aren't
sweet17: IM NOT A FUCKING COP YOU DICKSHIT!
bloodninja: Then send me the picture.
sweet17: fine. What's your e-mail?
bloodninja: Just send it through here.
sweet17: alright *PIC*
sweet17: Did you get it?
bloodninja: Hold on. I'm looking.
sweet17: That was me back in may
sweet17: I've lost weight since then.
bloodninja: I hope so
sweet17: what?!?
sweet17: that hurt my feelings.
bloodninja: Did it?
sweet17: Yes. I'm not that much smaller than that now.
bloodninja: Will it make you feel better if I send you my picture?
sweet17: yes
bloodninja: Alright let me find it.
sweet17: kks
bloodninja: Okay here it is. *PIC*
sweet17: this isn't you.
bloodninja: I'll be damned if it ain't!
sweet17: You don't look like that.
bloodninja: How the hell do you know?
sweet17: cause your profile has another picture.
bloodninja: The profile pic is a fake.
bloodninja: I use it to hide from the cops.
sweet17: You look like the Farm Fresh guy lol
bloodninja: Well, you look like you ATE the Farm Fresh guy....
bloodninja: Not to mention all the groceries.
sweet17: Go fuck yourself
bloodninja: I was going to until I saw that picture
bloodninja: Now my unit won't get hard for a week.
sweet17: I shouldn't have sent you that picture.
sweet17: You've done nothing but slam me.
sweet17: you hurt me.
bloodninja: And calling me the Farm Fresh guy doesn't hurt me?
sweet17: I thought you were bullcrapping me!
bloodninja: Why would I do that?
sweet17: I can't believe that cops are after you
bloodninja: I can't believe Santa lets you sit on his lap..
sweet17: FUCK YOU!!!
bloodninja: You'd break both of his legs.
sweet17: You're a fucking wanker!
sweet17: I've been teased my whole life because of my weight
sweet17: and you make fun of me when you don't even know me
bloodninja: Ok. I'm sorry.
sweet17: No you aren't
bloodninja: You're right. I'm not.
bloodninja: HAARRRRR!
sweet17: I'm done with you
bloodninja: Aww. I'm sorry.
sweet17: I'm putting you on ignore
bloodninja: Wait a sec
bloodninja: We got off on the wrong foot.
bloodninja: Wanna start over?
sweet17: No
bloodninja: I'll eat your kitty
sweet17: You'll what?
bloodninja: You heard me.
bloodninja: I said I'd eat your kitty.
sweet17: I thought you said you couldn't get it hard after seeing my picture
bloodninja: Do I need a hard-on to eat your kitty?
sweet17: I'd like to know that the man eating me out is excited yes
bloodninja: Well I'm not like most men.
bloodninja: I get excited in different ways.
sweet17: Like what?
bloodninja: Do you really wanna know?
sweet17: I don't know
bloodninja: You have to tell me yes or no.
sweet17: I'm afraid to
bloodninja: Why?
sweet17: cause
bloodninja: cause why?
sweet17: well lets see
sweet17: you say you have sex with turkeys. You call me fat. then you wanna eat me out
sweet17: doesn't that seem strange to you?
bloodninja: Nope
sweet17: well its strange to me
bloodninja: Fine. I won't do it if you don't want me to
sweet17: I didn't say that
bloodninja: So is that a yes?
sweet17: I guess so.
bloodninja: Ok. I need your help getting excited though.
bloodninja: Are you willing?
sweet17: What do you need me to do?
bloodninja: I need you talk like a pirate.
sweet17: ???
bloodninja: When I start to go limp... you say "HARRRR!!!"
bloodninja: ok?
bloodninja: Hello?
sweet17: You can't be serious
bloodninja: Oh yes I am!
bloodninja: It's my fantasy.
sweet17: this is retarded
bloodninja: Do you want it or not?
sweet17: Yes I want it.
bloodninja: Then you'll do it for me?
sweet17: sure
bloodninja: Ok. Here we go.
bloodninja: I gently remove your panties and being to massage your thighs.
bloodninja: You get really juicy thinking about my tounge brushing up against them
bloodninja: I softly begin to tounge your wet kitty.
bloodninja: I run my tounge up and down your smooth cunt.
sweet17: mmmm yeah
bloodninja: uh oh ...going limp.
sweet17: Har
bloodninja: You gotta do better than that!
bloodninja: Your picture was really bad.
sweet17: HARRRRRRRRRRRR
bloodninja: Ahhhh. Much better. I feel your kitty get more moist with every stroke.
bloodninja: I softly suck on your clit bringing it in and out of my mouth.
bloodninja: Your juices run down my chin as your scent makes its way to my nose.
bloodninja: I begin to feel empowered by your femininity.
sweet17: mmmmmm you are good
bloodninja: I feel your thighs tighten as I fuck harder
bloodninja: going limp
sweet17: HARRRRRRR
bloodninja: Mmmm I grab your swelling buttocks in my hands.
bloodninja: You begin to sway back and forth.
bloodninja: going limp
sweet17: this is stupid
bloodninja: ...still limp
bloodninja: Do it!
sweet17: HARRRRRRRRRRRRR
bloodninja: I turn you around to lick your asshole.
bloodninja: I pry apart that battleship you call your ass.
bloodninja: I see poo nuggets hanging from the hair around your ass.
sweet17: WTF?!?!?
bloodninja: They stink really bad.
sweet17: OMG STOP!!!
bloodninja: I start to get fed up with your ugly ass
bloodninja: I tear off your wooden peg leg.
bloodninja: I ram it up your ass.
sweet17: YOURE A FUCKING PYSCHO!!
bloodninja: Then I pour hot carmel over your head.
bloodninja: And turn you into a fucking candy apple...
bloodninja: I kick you in the face!
sweet17: FUCK YOU DICKHEAD!!
bloodninja: The celluloid from your cheeks hits the side of the cabin...
bloodninja: Your parrot flys away.
bloodninja: ...going limp again.
bloodninja: Hello?
bloodninja: Say it!
bloodninja: HAARRRRRR!!!!!






OMFG!!! I CANT FUCKING BREATHE!!!!
Link Posted: 4/3/2005 4:39:30 PM EDT
Link Posted: 4/3/2005 4:40:53 PM EDT

Originally Posted By DrFrige:


OMFG!!! I CANT FUCKING BREATHE!!!!



That one never fails to just fracture me... Haaaarr!! LOL!
Link Posted: 4/3/2005 4:42:03 PM EDT

Originally Posted By DigDug:
DrFrige,

Go to the link I posted above. It's got all of his stuff.

"I put on my robe and wizard hat..."



Thanks for posting the link, there were 3 or 4 there that I didn't have-
Lee
Link Posted: 4/3/2005 4:42:53 PM EDT
[Last Edit: 4/3/2005 4:43:26 PM EDT by Cape_hunter]

Originally Posted By critterflht:

Originally Posted By DigDug:
Now, I know that there is a lot of embellishment that occurs on this group and I am aware that a small number of things are perhaps sheer fabrication, but I have a story to tell that is the absolute truth......................

.............The upshot of all this is that I strongly recommend eating dinner at Ryan's Steak House. They have, by far, the nicest management staff of any restaurant in which I have eaten.




THAT'S the one!!!



+100

That story has given me more gut wrenching pain from laughter then any other. FOllowed closely by, "YOU CANT BRING FIRE ON AN AIRPLANE"

CH
Link Posted: 4/3/2005 4:46:26 PM EDT
The "SOMEBODY FARTED!!!" thread had tons of stories where I couldn't breathe from laughing so hard.
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