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Author Topic: Good old (short) jokes...  (Read 56645 times)

Frank Koenig

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Re: Good old (short) jokes...
« Reply #180 on: December 04, 2014, 02:19:11 AM »

And then there's this classic (which I was first introduced to by process documentation consultant):
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Jamin Lynch

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Re: Good old (short) jokes...
« Reply #181 on: December 08, 2014, 12:36:46 PM »

Test results have come in
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John Fruits

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Re: Good old (short) jokes...
« Reply #182 on: October 18, 2016, 08:41:09 PM »

I know necroposts are frowned upon here but I had to post this one.
What do you call a group of topless female accordian players?
Ladies in Pain.
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Luke Geis

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Re: Good old (short) jokes...
« Reply #183 on: October 18, 2016, 11:57:34 PM »

Why is peter pan green? Cause if someone hit your peter with a pan you'd be green too....

And because I don't do short........ for your enjoyment please read the following:

All in all, it hadn't been a good day. Bad traffic, a malfunctioning
computer, incompetent coworkers and a sore back all made me a seething cauldron of rage.
But more importantly for this story, it had been over forty-eight hours since I'd last taken a dump. I'd tried to jump start the process, beginning my day with a bowl of bowel-cleansing fiber cereal, following it with six cups of coffee at work, and adding a bean-laden lunch at Taco Bell. As I was returning home from work, my insides let me know with subtle rumbles and the emission of the occasional tiny fart that Big Things would be happening soon. Alas, I had to stop at the mall to pick up an order. I completed this task, and as I was walking past the stores on my way back to the car, I noticed a large sale sign proclaiming, "Everything Must Go!"
This was prophetic, for my colon informed me with a sudden violent cramp and a wet, squeaky fart that everything was indeed about to go. I hurried to the mall bathrooms. I surveyed the five stalls, which I have numbered 1 through 5 for your convenience:

1.Occupied.

2.Clean, but Bathroom Protocol forbids its use, as it's next to the occupied one.

3.Poo on seat.

4.Poo and toilet paper in bowl, unidentifiable liquid splattered on
seat.

5.No toilet paper, no stall door, unidentifiable sticky object near base
of toilet.

Clearly, it had to be Stall ..1. I trudged back, entered, dropped trou
and sat down. I'm normally a fairly Shameful shitter. I wasn't happy
about being next to the occupied stall, but Big Things were afoot.

I was just getting ready to bear down when all of a sudden the sweet
sounds of Beethoven came from next door, followed by a fumbling, and
then the sound of a voice answering the ringing phone. As usual for a
cell phone conversation, the voice was exactly 8 dB louder than it
needed to be. Out of Shameful habit, my sphincter slammed shut. The
inane conversation went on and on. Mr. Shitter was blathering to Mrs.
Shitter about the shitty day he had.
I sat there, cramping and miserable, waiting for him to finish. As the loud conversation dragged on, I became angrier and angrier, thinking that I, too, had a crappy day, but I was too polite to yak about in public. My bowels let me know in no uncertain terms that if I didn't get crapping soon, my day would be getting even crappier.

Finally my anger reached a point that overcame Shamefulness. I no longer cared. I gripped the toilet paper holder with one hand, braced my other hand against the side of the stall, and pushed with all my might. I was rewarded with a fart of colossal magnitude -- a cross between the sound of someone ripping a very wet bed sheet in half and of plywood being torn off a wall. The sound gradually transitioned into a heavily
modulated low-RPM tone, not unlike someone firing up a Harley. I managed to hit the resonance frequency of the stall, and it shook gently.

Once my ass cheeks stopped flapping in the breeze, three things became
apparent:
(1) The next-door conversation had ceased;
(2) my colon's continued seizing indicated that there was more to come;
and
(3) the bathroom was now beset by a horrible, eldritch stench.

It was as if a gateway to Hell had been opened. The foul miasma quickly
made its way under the stall and began choking my poop-mate. This initial "herald" fart had ended his conversation in mid-sentence.

"Oh my God," I heard him utter, following it with suppressed sounds of
choking, and then, "No, baby, that wasn't me (cough, gag), you could
hear that (gag)??"

Now there was no stopping me. I pushed for all I was worth. I could
swear that in the resulting cacophony of rips, squirts, splashes, poots,
and blasts, I was actually lifted slightly off the pot. The amount of
stuff in me was incredible. It sprayed against the bowl with tremendous
force. Later, in surveying the damage, I'd see that liquid poop had
actually managed to ricochet out of the bowl and run down the side on to
the floor. But for now, all I could do was hang on for the ride.

Next door I could hear him fumbling with the paper dispenser as he
desperately tried to finish his task. Little snatches of conversation
made themselves heard over my anal symphony: "Gotta go... horrible...
throw up... in my mouth... not... make it... tell the kids... love
them... oh God..." followed by more sounds of suppressed gagging and
retching.

Alas, it is evidently difficult to hold one's phone and wipe one's ass
at the same time. Just as my high-pressure abuse of the toilet was
winding down, I heard a plop and splash from next door, followed by
string of swear words and gags. My poop-mate had dropped his phone into the toilet.


There was a lull in my production, and the restroom became deathly
quiet. I could envision him standing there, wondering what to do. A
final anal announcement came trumpeting from my behind, small chunks
plopping noisily into the water. That must have been the last straw. I
heard a flush, a fumbling with the lock, and then the stall door was
thrown open. I heard him running out of the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

After a considerable amount of paperwork, I got up and surveyed the
damage. I felt bad for the janitor who'd be forced to deal with this,
but I knew that flushing was not an option. No toilet in the world could
handle that unholy mess. Flushing would only lead to a floor flooded
with filth.

As I left, I glanced into the next-door stall. Nothing remained in the
bowl. Had he flushed his phone, or had he plucked it out and left the
bathroom with nasty unwashed hands? The world will never know.

I exited the bathroom, momentarily proud and Shameless, looking around for a face glaring at me. But I saw no one. I suspect that somehow my supernatural elimination has managed to transfer my Shamefulness to my anonymous poop-mate.

I think it'll be a long time before he can bring himself to poop in public -- and I doubt he'll ever again answer his cell phone in the bathroom.


And this, my friends, is why you should never talk on your phone in the bathroom.
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I don't understand how you can't hear yourself

Debbie Dunkley

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Re: Good old (short) jokes...
« Reply #184 on: October 19, 2016, 09:30:13 AM »


And because I don't do short........ for your enjoyment please read the following:

All in all, it hadn't been a good day. ..................................................

And this, my friends, is why you should never talk on your phone in the bathroom.


This reminds me of a TRUE story that happened about 15 years ago when we used to live in San Diego. It happened to Chris.

Chris was (and still is) a sales rep during the week and travels 40-50k per year by car and over the years he has had to become quite good at seeking out clean decent restrooms on those occasions where nature calls and keeps calling......

So one of his favorite 'rest rooms' was Torrey Pines Golf course in La Jolla and one time he was close by and HAD to go.

This is the story he told me afterwards:

" I was absolutely busting for a c**p and was so relieved to be within 10 minutes of the golf course. I was already late for an appointment so time was of the essence.
As usual I pulled in and parked and hurriedly walked to the bathroom which appeared empty. I quickly walked into a stall and sat down. Just at the defining moment, I heard someone come in but I couldn't hold on and let go. Obviously I must have had a bit of an upset stomach because it was demonic to say the least.

I was so embarrassed and although I really wanted to wait till I was sure the guy had left before coming out of the stall, I had to get going as time was getting on. By the time I walked over to the sink, the guy was still there washing his hands. I stood a few feet away from him trying not to make eye contact in the mirror.
He then spoke, " Feel better there champ?". I shyly looked over and there was Barry Manilow looking at me with a grin on his face....... I just replied, " Yep - I sure do thanks"".

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David Allred

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Re: Good old (short) jokes...
« Reply #185 on: October 19, 2016, 12:02:30 PM »


I shyly looked over and there was Barry Manilow looking at me with a grin on his face....... I just replied, " Yep - I sure do thanks"".

Hooking up with Barry Manilow in the country club bathroom.  That could be a joke by itself. :o
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Riley Casey

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Re: Good old (short) jokes...
« Reply #186 on: October 19, 2016, 01:46:24 PM »

It would appear the the posts I was poking fun at have DISappeared.

Wow.  Just wow.  H.O.W. Forums, huh?
« Last Edit: October 19, 2016, 08:49:21 PM by Riley Casey »
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David Allred

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Re: Good old (short) jokes...
« Reply #187 on: October 19, 2016, 02:15:00 PM »

Well all the cool people have slaves in the bible LOL

Is that from Yankee Stadium?  Cuz it came out of left field.
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Jamin Lynch

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Re: Good old (short) jokes...
« Reply #188 on: October 20, 2016, 09:23:50 AM »

I saw where The Oakland Raiders may move to Las Vegas.

They could change their name to The Las Vaders
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Craig Leerman

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Re: Good old (short) jokes...
« Reply #189 on: October 20, 2016, 01:46:38 PM »

Two frogs are sitting on lillypads in a Chicago pond
One croaks
The other hides the gun and looks around for cameras


I used to date a girl with a wooden leg,,but we broke it off
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Re: Good old (short) jokes...
« Reply #189 on: October 20, 2016, 01:46:38 PM »


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