Pajiba

You know how I poo at work? I used to be timid, but not anymore. I hop on the intercom, loudly announce that I'm off to make a dook, and sometimes, just sometimes, I'll crap right in the goddam hallway to show how much I don't care.

I've pooped on someone's desk before in the middle of a conference call. I WILL NO LONGER BE SLAVE NOR AFRAID OF MY BODILY FUNCTIONS. VIVA LA CACA!

Ever since Monty Python, I cannot read the title A Tale of Two Cities without hearing it in my brain as The Sale of Two Titties. I'm sure, then, that I would be disappointed in the book.

I check There I Fixed It everyday, just like I Can Haz Cheeseburger.

If the commencement speech at my college graduation had been anything like that, I probably wouldn't have fallen asleep. All I remember is an old, old man talking about fiscal responsibility.

I knew as soon as I saw that flailing jackass in the MVP trailer that that's what they were talking about. So stupid-funny.

I’d take her over Brainwash Holmes and Wooden McStick Up Her Ass Paltrow

At least they're kinda nice to look at and have some acting talent.

I did enjoy "White Noise" but that's the only title there that I took up someone's recommendation on.

"The Right Stuff" is #3...and a TV show is the #1 movie?!?!?!?

Oh wait, it's Screen Rant. Figures.

Delurking just to say this: the word "dook" is inexplicably funny to me. I must use it in a sentence today.

I Love You, Beth Cooper has a 0% at Rotten Tomatoes with around 10 reviews.

I thought the book read pretty well around these here Pajiba parts. Wonder what the hell happened.

I work from home now, thank Godtopus, but when my office actually required us to come into the office, pooping generally went like this:

1. Find my favorite stall.
2. Put layers of toilet paper on the seat.
3. Sit down and do my duty.
4. Someone sits down in the stall next to me, and starts talking to a CLIENT on their CELLPHONE.
5. I start making groaning noises followed by raspberries, and throwing things into the pot to make the loudest splooshing noises I can, followed by repeated flushings, hoping for an overflow situation.
6. Run like hell out of the restroom and try to look like I was never in there.

Aw, Stacey...no Twilight tattoos?

Whorish Mouth: I loved that. I've been taking the same steps for ages.

HIP HIP CACA!

HIP HIP CACA!

I wonder if the hate for "One Hundred Years" comes from the translation. I don't know how anyone could read it outside of the original spanish, and understand the beauty of the prose and the slang. It's also a deeply latin-american book, and I don't know if you can really connect to it unless you've seen the kind of towns he describes or met that sort of people. I love that book, and I hate that so many people don't.

And how the fuck can you not like "The Corrections"? And "A Tale of Two Cities", which is the best of Dickens?

I'm sorry but I just lost all of my respect for that site. I'm sure it hurts. Jeebus. That is so beyond wrong.

So MVP's a movie about the Philadelphia Flyers, right? ... WHAT? That's a CHIMP?

My Traumatic Poopin-at-the-office story:
Picure it: A small office of a dozen or so people, a day like any other. I go to the loo, everything goes as planned, until the flush. At which point the toilet clogs up. To be fair, it was probably already clogged before I even got there and I just hadn't noticed. It was famous for sneaky-bastard clogs on nothing more than paper. Anywhoodle, after some protracted swearing, I begin to plunge.
Carefully.
20 minutes and one blister on my hand later, I had produced a bowlful of frothy chunky brown nuclear waste. The level of the bowl had gone down some so I prayed to Godtupus, and flushed. Bad move. I cursed Godtupus and all of his lesser deities as the bowl overflowed and began to pool across the floor. I waded in and shut off the water, then used the entire contents of the paper towel dispenser, plus all of the spare packages, to fashion a soggy brownish dam to prevent the sewage from going under the bathroom door and saturating the hallway carpet. The toilet then spontaneously unclogs itself, leaving me standing surrounded by over a gallon of shit-water. Fucker. I then had to do a walk of shame to the boss to give him the news. His response was "That is tragic."
Lots of mopping and some weeping later, I had it cleaned up, but the story spread throughout the land.
Mockery ensued.

Worst toilet clogging story would have to be at the house I rented before my wife and I moved on to our own apartment.

My mother-in-law came over for some reason, and had to use the bathroom. Unbeknownst to her or anyone else, our roommate had clogged it and then not said anything, because she used to get shit for it all the time and didn't want to fess up. She was hoping if no one used it for a while the TP would get soggified and would break up on its own.

Our bathroom as directly above the laundry/game room area of our basement, and I was down there getting my laundry together after having just washed it. Right after my MIL flushed, I hear cursing coming from above, followed by a torrential downpour of shit water. It was flowing right through the flooring of our fucking house, directly onto my pile of clean clothes.

It was so fucking disgusting, but at least I can laugh about it now, because we made the roommate clean it up. Naturally.

Ranked: 836,230th worldwide
Swears: 2

...and one of those swears? was actually my sister's.

You know, I sent this as a comment diversion to Dustin like forever ago.

Back in the day, I worked in a small IT department. My boss had hired on a new guy who seemed not to have the foggiest idea of what he was doing, nor what he was supposed to do. And he certainly didn't seem to be trying to do much. Case in point, the day I walked in on him in the bathroom. We had a small, co-ed employee bathroom behind a row of cubicles. I can't imagine why he failed to lock the door, but he did - and I was the lucky one to burst in on him. There he sat, pants around his ankles, newspaper in hand - seemingly nonplussed by my appearance. I made some sort of gasp/scream sound and turned and ran out as fast as I could. I ran all the way out of the building and had to compose myself. The dude, who didn't last long anyway, was the butt (pun intended) of many jokes. He later became known in company history as "Shit Man".

Would it be terrible of me if I said that I hate it when you're using a public bathroom and someone plonks down in the stall right next to you and proceeds to do their business and it's NOT PRETTY?

I mean like you want to ask "are you ok?" and you don't even know who it is. It's that bad. Groaning, hissing, panting, INTERNAL intestinal noises loud enough for you to hear, and then everything else that goes without saying. Like someone's fucking DYING in the next stall. I've gagged before just from the smell, nevermind the sound effects.

Also, to my girlfriends and co-workers, I love your asses to death, but please don't break the Zone. When I go into the stall and start pissing and you do the same, we're not talking until we're both done, k? Smooches!

Snuggie,

*clap clap clap*

"The Road" is bore-ing.

I can't understand how anybody can hate One Hundred Years of Solitude either figgy. ANd I even read it in English. But then again, I do live in the Philippines, which is in Asia, not in LAtin America but we under Spanish rule for like hundreds of years too. Oh, and we also have water in plastic bags. Definitely not for the tourists.

Snuggie, I absolutely hate that! Don't talk to me while you're peeing, or while I'm peeing either. If it was my friends, I wouldn't care so much, but co-worker, that's a line, dude, don't cross it.
Also...if there are more than 2 stalls in the bathroom and you can help it, do me a favor and don't choose the one right next to me! Follow the same rules guys do at the urinals. Every other one.

I loved On the Road and The Road, and I've had many of my students (urban high school kids) enjoy those books too. Creating a top ten list is always dependent on someone's taste.