Here's another classic that I dug from my own personal humor archive. I'll make the disclaimer that in no way can I vouch for this being an actual true story. However, unlike the other story I posted recently, I found no evidence on the net that it's false. Enjoy!

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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
proportions. 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 one's ass toward said toilet, hooking one's fingers into one's
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 half-way 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 are 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 half-way 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 half-way 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 sweat pants 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 or 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.

The only thing that could have made you story more disgusting, vile and vulgar, is a video to accompany it. Your idea of humor is obviously warped and perverted, and I strongly suggest you seek psychiatric help. If there are people that actually want to read stuff like this, they must be as sick as you are.

I laughed, I cried, I gave it a thumbs up!!

"That's some funny shit!!"

E

Hey Archie29621

I agree with you. I thought this site was about pussy not shit!

But this type of shit does apeal to some people. Take a look at: Off-Topic: -Humor: Photo's (stupid and funny)

That wuz nasty! I'm actually more sickened that you could eat 4 plates of anything than I am of the shit/vomit fest.

-Superman-

Somehow it does not suprise me that "E" got his jollies from that post. I think he is just sad that he could not be there in person to witness it! Sorry E, but you set yourself up!

E... it's the writing style that makes it funny. The guy just seemed so unfazed about the whole thing...LOL.

Superman... I agree, anyone who wolfs down 4 plates of Beefaroni has it coming to him.

Archie... well, it sounds like you read through the whole thing, didn't you? Yes, I found it funny, and I'm willing to bet I wasn't the only one. Apologies to anyone with delicate sensitivity issues who may have been offended by that post.

Conozco... this is, after all, the "Off-topic" section, but I probably should have put it in the Humor area instead.

I remember when I was in the 7th and 8th grade that I found gross bodily functions humorous. Fortunately, I failed to see the humor in this type of reading material a few years later. I guess peoples perceptions of what is humorous varies, but I seem to think its closely tied to their maturity and IQ. Why don't you make some copies of the post and pass them around at your next family gathering. I am sure you will be the life of the party, especially with the 10 year olds.

"I remember when I was in the 7th and 8th grade that I found gross bodily functions humorous. Fortunately, I failed to see the humor in this type of reading material a few years later."

Archie, I totally agree. You guys are so sick and immature.

~SnaPpeR~ ...who is really disappointed with you guys

I use to light farts when I was in the sixth grade.

I no longer find that funny.

benwhohasbecomegrumpy

Sometimes it's good to let your inner 7th-grader come out and play for awhile.

Try it sometime.

Sorry, but I can't resist one more... (WARNING! This one is grosser than gross)

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If you read one disgusting story this year . . . LET IT BE THIS ONE !

Susy DeLucci and the Miracle of Life

One morning around 5am, 22 year old Susy DeLucci of Kittery, Maine, woke up with
a painful need to urinate. At first she thought she had diarrhea, but when she
stood up out of bed, she realized that it was urinary pain. It was very similar
to the feeling of having diarrhea, just out the wrong hole.

She wobbled to the toilet and upon sitting on it, her vagina erupted into the
most horrific messy farting noise anyone has ever heard. In paralyzing pain, Ms.
DeLucci for the next few minutes continued to push and squirt out of her vagina
a burning tide of wretch and filth while she gripped the sides of the toilet,
white-knuckled. She was screaming wildly, and the neighbors called the police.

When medics arrived they found Ms. DeLucci unconscious lying on the floor of her
bathroom wearing nothing but her bath robe. Running down her leg, was a stream
of brown and green syrup. The medic had to transfer her to a stretcher, so he
grabbed her left leg which was bent crossing her other leg, to straighten her
out. She was lying there all twisted up. When he lifted her left leg to
straighten her body out, he exposed her vagina at which point a creature, no
larger than the tip of a finger wormed its way out of her genitals and landed on
the floor with a wet popping sound. Shocked, the medic stared at the creature
that was lying on the tile bathroom floor in a casing of mucous. It was a tiny
mud shrimp and it sat there on the cold floor gasping for water while flipping
itself back and forth. The horrified medic turned to the toilet as he felt the
nausea setting in. When he put his face down into the toilet to puke, what he
saw was so horrific that to this day he cannot look into a toilet without
convulsing.

The entire toilet bowl was boiling with baby brown mud shrimp flipping and
splashing at a furious pace. If you think that is bad - wait until you hear how
it happened:

Ms. DeLucci’s official death was the result of a combination of shock and severe
head trauma. She stood up over the toilet in pain and when she saw what she had
done, she went into shock and fell, smashing her head on the toilet and then on
the floor. It is believed by medical police that on two nights before the
accident she had purchased a live lobster at a fish market. While lying in a
tub, she gently inserted the creature's tail into her vagina to derive pleasure.
At that point, she held a lighter under the creature's face causing it to flip
its tail in a violent snapping motion.

The medics found a lesbian XXX video in the VCR and the TV was positioned on a
table in front of the tub. The lobster was found in the kitchen garbage can
wrapped in a paper bag. Traces of Ms. DeLucci's DNA were found on the lobster
along with pubic hairs that had wedged themselves between the lobster tail
joints. The lobster's face was lightly burned with the same fuel used in
lighters. The lobster's digestive track and colon were found to be full of mud
shrimp egg casings. Doctors believe that the lobster had eaten them (they are
common in the water at fish markets and are usually harmlessly boiled to death)
and the lobster had crapped them out into Ms. DeLucci's cunt when she was
torturing it. Maine mud shrimp only take two days to gestate and Ms. DeLucci was
only four days away from getting her period, doctors believe that at that point
of her menstrual cycle, her womb was the perfect PH balance to grow these mud
shrimp which are a much larger version of the popular "Sea Monkey" pets sold
throughout the US. Over night the eggs had hatched and the mud shrimp began
doubling in size every ten minutes. You can imagine the pain she was in when she
woke up that morning and gave birth to well over 1,000 mud shrimp in her toilet.
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FYI... this story seems too bizarre to be true, and in fact, it is: http://www.snopes.com/sex/juvenile/lobster.htm

What! No Pictures?

Who wants Red Lobster tonight?

Tell you what Snapper... I'll provide the articles, you come up with the pictures...LOL.