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due to the heinous keg fuda jutting out like patch's deek at an SPCA open house.

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dixichkn said:

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The beautiful part of it? Zero edits. That sh** was heartfelt. And yes, the best post ever on TA. Only ones even in the ballpark were Aggiegrant and Ranger65

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CE Lounge Lizzard said:

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dixichkn said:

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The beautiful part of it? Zero edits. That sh** was heartfelt. And yes, the best post ever on TA. Only ones even in the ballpark were Aggiegrant and Ranger65

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I agree, that was one, if. Ot the greatest response ever!!

I also.wanted to bump thos thread!

I would also include poster aggie1944's response on Outdoor Board of "Nazis" to the question of what was the coolest thing you've shot. Otherwise your reasoning is sound & this is still funny.

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Quote:

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Third, this guy hadn't seen his crank in years due to the heinous keg fuda jutting out like patch's deek at an SPCA open house.

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Quote:

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Confession time, for all of you who read this far into the anonymous mailbag.

I just survived a poopcaplypse.

Since we are in the anonymous mailbag trust tree, here goes:
Yesterday the wife and I took our three kids to go see "Christmas Vacation," in the movie theater. (They're showing it in the normal movie theater and my three boys, ages 11, 9 and 5 have never seen the movie before so we thought it would be fun to take them).

They absolutely love the movie and we have an awesome time watching it.

But we all get treats and I end up eating a bunch of their nachos and one of those massive bags of Peanut M&M's. Near the end of the movie, my stomach starts acting up, but I think I can make it home without too much trouble.

Bad idea.

You know how it feels when you're about to have diarrhea? It comes in waves. You think you're fine one minute, then you get a wave and it typically subsides. This happens several times as you're driving home. Then it always seems, at least to me, that as soon as you get remotely close to your house it's like your bowels know it and they start to come close to erupting.

It's uncanny how many times this happens to me.

So we pull up to the house and I tell my kids that I have to run inside the house to get to the bathroom. I'm sprinting through the house about to erupt with diarrhea, rush into our bathroom, rip down my pants and slide into the seat just as everything comes pouring out.

For a fraction of a second, I'm like, MADE IT.

And I'm exulting in that great feeling of bowel release when I suddenly feel diarrhea on the backs of my legs.

Turns out, the cover seat to the toilet falls back down as I'm sliding into the toilet and I'd just diarrhea'd all over the top of the toilet seat.

I mean, just completely cover it in hot, funky, grotesque diarrhea.

But the first wave has just hit and more is to come so I flip the cover seat back up and then get the rest into the toilet.

Meanwhile the smell is revolting because, of course, the diarrhea is everywhere and I'm sitting there evacuating my bowels cursing like a sailor.

First of all, WHY DO TOILETS HAVE COVERS AT ALL? WHAT IS THE PURPOSE OF A TOILET COVER? WHY DO WE EVEN HAVE ONE? WE ALL KNOW WHAT THE INSIDE OF A TOILET LOOKS LIKE. THE SUN ISN'T SHINING DOWN ON THE SAHARA EVAPORATING WATER FROM INSIDE THE BOWL.

IT MAKES ZERO SENSE FOR TOILET SEAT COVERS TO EVEN EXIST.

Second, I'm now gagging because of the smell.

I mean, full on leaned forward as far as I can to try and escape the smell, nearly dying.

Meanwhile my kids and my wife all come into the bathroom and are dying laughing because OH MY GOD, DAD HAS POOPED HIMSELF.

Here I am sitting on the toilet with no pants on, hunched over gagging in the bathroom and my entire family is laughing at me.

Clearly, I get no respect in my house.

So I'm done pooping and I'm just sitting there on the toilet, like it's a damn diarrhea murder scene in the bathroom, just diarrhea everywhere, the floor, the walls, my legs and I legit was thinking to myself, I wish there was someone I could call to clean this up. Because my wife isn't going to help at all and I don't blame her but if there was a poop Uber, I would have paid hundreds of dollars for a biohazard team to show up at my house and take care of this.

I'm not kidding, $500 cash, right then and there to someone to take care of it and make it all go away.

I ask my wife what to do and she says, "Well, you better clean that **** up!"

So my wife brings me a heavy duty collection of cleaning supplies it looks like I'm trying to clean up a murder scene with all the supplies she drops off and I eventually stand up and pull the ****ing seat cover back down. (I want to take all the toilet seat covers out of my house now and smash them like in Office Space).

And I swear to god what looks like an entire pot of chili is just piled on the back of the toilet.

Only it doesn't smell like chili.

And I have no idea how to get it up because it's ****ing diarrhea, not a couple of turds.

How do you even pick that up? Especially because we have one of those bathrooms with the toilet inside its own tiny room so there's hardly room enough to scoop anything.

I actually asked my wife if we had one of those mini-gardening shovels. (It turns out we don't have one of these, but it did lead my wife to ridicule the idea I had, which was evidently ridiculous, that we might have a mini-gardening shovel.)

So I've got zero idea what do to here.

So my wife gives me a pair of those latex rubber gloves and I put them on and try to pick it up, but, lest I need to remind you, it's ****ing diarrhea so it's running through my hands and impossible to grip and I immediately have to rush to the sink and I throw up there because the smell is so bad.

So here I am throwing up in my sink with diarrhea covered biohazard gloves on my hands while I've filled the bathroom behind me with diarrhea everywhere.

This is not a good life moment.

It takes me a full hour, during which time I think I set the dry heave world record, to clean the bathroom.

And, frankly, I'm still not over the poopacolpyse.

Even now writing about it, I'm starting to dry heave again thanks to PTSD poop traumatic stress syndrome.

So I'll leave you all now with a piece of advice.

Pull all your seat covers off your toilets and never buy one again.

They are worthless, absolutely worthless.

(And be careful mixing nachos and peanut M&M's at the movie theater. That almost killed me.)

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bthomas98 said:

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From Clay Travis Anonymous mailbag

Quote:

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Confession time, for all of you who read this far into the anonymous mailbag.

I just survived a poopcaplypse.

Since we are in the anonymous mailbag trust tree, here goes:
Yesterday the wife and I took our three kids to go see "Christmas Vacation," in the movie theater. (They're showing it in the normal movie theater and my three boys, ages 11, 9 and 5 have never seen the movie before so we thought it would be fun to take them).

They absolutely love the movie and we have an awesome time watching it.

But we all get treats and I end up eating a bunch of their nachos and one of those massive bags of Peanut M&M's. Near the end of the movie, my stomach starts acting up, but I think I can make it home without too much trouble.

Bad idea.

You know how it feels when you're about to have diarrhea? It comes in waves. You think you're fine one minute, then you get a wave and it typically subsides. This happens several times as you're driving home. Then it always seems, at least to me, that as soon as you get remotely close to your house it's like your bowels know it and they start to come close to erupting.

It's uncanny how many times this happens to me.

So we pull up to the house and I tell my kids that I have to run inside the house to get to the bathroom. I'm sprinting through the house about to erupt with diarrhea, rush into our bathroom, rip down my pants and slide into the seat just as everything comes pouring out.

For a fraction of a second, I'm like, MADE IT.

And I'm exulting in that great feeling of bowel release when I suddenly feel diarrhea on the backs of my legs.

Turns out, the cover seat to the toilet falls back down as I'm sliding into the toilet and I'd just diarrhea'd all over the top of the toilet seat.

I mean, just completely cover it in hot, funky, grotesque diarrhea.

But the first wave has just hit and more is to come so I flip the cover seat back up and then get the rest into the toilet.

Meanwhile the smell is revolting because, of course, the diarrhea is everywhere and I'm sitting there evacuating my bowels cursing like a sailor.

First of all, WHY DO TOILETS HAVE COVERS AT ALL? WHAT IS THE PURPOSE OF A TOILET COVER? WHY DO WE EVEN HAVE ONE? WE ALL KNOW WHAT THE INSIDE OF A TOILET LOOKS LIKE. THE SUN ISN'T SHINING DOWN ON THE SAHARA EVAPORATING WATER FROM INSIDE THE BOWL.

IT MAKES ZERO SENSE FOR TOILET SEAT COVERS TO EVEN EXIST.

Second, I'm now gagging because of the smell.

I mean, full on leaned forward as far as I can to try and escape the smell, nearly dying.

Meanwhile my kids and my wife all come into the bathroom and are dying laughing because OH MY GOD, DAD HAS POOPED HIMSELF.

Here I am sitting on the toilet with no pants on, hunched over gagging in the bathroom and my entire family is laughing at me.

Clearly, I get no respect in my house.

So I'm done pooping and I'm just sitting there on the toilet, like it's a damn diarrhea murder scene in the bathroom, just diarrhea everywhere, the floor, the walls, my legs and I legit was thinking to myself, I wish there was someone I could call to clean this up. Because my wife isn't going to help at all and I don't blame her but if there was a poop Uber, I would have paid hundreds of dollars for a biohazard team to show up at my house and take care of this.

I'm not kidding, $500 cash, right then and there to someone to take care of it and make it all go away.

I ask my wife what to do and she says, "Well, you better clean that **** up!"

So my wife brings me a heavy duty collection of cleaning supplies it looks like I'm trying to clean up a murder scene with all the supplies she drops off and I eventually stand up and pull the ****ing seat cover back down. (I want to take all the toilet seat covers out of my house now and smash them like in Office Space).

And I swear to god what looks like an entire pot of chili is just piled on the back of the toilet.

Only it doesn't smell like chili.

And I have no idea how to get it up because it's ****ing diarrhea, not a couple of turds.

How do you even pick that up? Especially because we have one of those bathrooms with the toilet inside its own tiny room so there's hardly room enough to scoop anything.

I actually asked my wife if we had one of those mini-gardening shovels. (It turns out we don't have one of these, but it did lead my wife to ridicule the idea I had, which was evidently ridiculous, that we might have a mini-gardening shovel.)

So I've got zero idea what do to here.

So my wife gives me a pair of those latex rubber gloves and I put them on and try to pick it up, but, lest I need to remind you, it's ****ing diarrhea so it's running through my hands and impossible to grip and I immediately have to rush to the sink and I throw up there because the smell is so bad.

So here I am throwing up in my sink with diarrhea covered biohazard gloves on my hands while I've filled the bathroom behind me with diarrhea everywhere.

This is not a good life moment.

It takes me a full hour, during which time I think I set the dry heave world record, to clean the bathroom.

And, frankly, I'm still not over the poopacolpyse.

Even now writing about it, I'm starting to dry heave again thanks to PTSD poop traumatic stress syndrome.

So I'll leave you all now with a piece of advice.

Pull all your seat covers off your toilets and never buy one again.

They are worthless, absolutely worthless.

(And be careful mixing nachos and peanut M&M's at the movie theater. That almost killed me.)

---

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dixichkn said:

---

The beautiful part of it? Zero edits. That sh** was heartfelt. And yes, the best post ever on TA. Only ones even in the ballpark were Aggiegrant and Ranger65

---