Tag Archives: lol

Facebook Under-roos

22 Nov

Every once in a while, although not too often, great threads are born on Facebook. This is one of those threads. Enjoy:

Bathroom, Occupied!

17 Nov

I hate, hate, hate, going poo in a public restroom. I would rather hold it until my internal organs burst than go in a public restroom. But sometimes you have to make tough choices…choices only Rambo and the President of the United States could make…and I made the choice to use the restroom at work.

At the time of my need, I had three bathrooms to choice from:

1) A very nice luxury 6 stall model with accompanying urinals and sinks. It’s usually clean, and accessible to multiple locations and offices throughout the company.

2) A small 1 stall, 1 urinal in my particular location that usually only the people that work there and the janitors know about. Using this one would alert everyone to what I was doing. This option is off the table. (*No one knows I poop, I’m sure of it.)

3) A second 1 stall, 1 urinal located around the corner that mostly the photo department uses. It’s spacious but a gamble. Sometimes it’s very busy and sometimes it’s very private. It’s the closest option.

I rolled the dice and chose number 3. (I should have picked number 1.)

The first thing I do, after locking the door, is to build my toilet seat cover nest. This consists of about 22 of those paper thin toilet seat covers carefully placed on the toilet without me actually touching the toilet top, bottom, or sides at any point. The trickiest part of the construction process is to build the nest without tripping the all-knowing, all-seeing automatic flush eye. That thing is like the Lord of The Rings eye, it’s watching your every move, waiting for you to enter it’s borders and then….flush! The Toddler is deathly afraid of the automatic flushing toilet. I’m not sure if she thinks she might get sucked down the hole or if the high powered noise of the flush scares her. It scares me a little too. Why does it have to flush so forcefully? What were the Engineers of the Auto Flush toilet anticipating?

Engineer 1: How much ffps (Flush Force Per Second) should we amp this sucker up?

Engineer 2: Enough to flush an alligator down baby!

Engineer 3: It isn’t high enough unless some butt check flesh is sucked down as well!

Engineer 4: What time do we go on break?

I hate when I  have carefully and painstakingly built  my nest, only to lose it when I turn around and pull down my pants.


Then I just hang my head in defeat, with my pants around my ankles. Now I have to rebuild, only this time it will be faster, stronger, and cost roughly about 6 million dollars. (I loved that show as a kid…bionic man if you were too young to know what I was referencing.)

So I get my nest built and successful land my bare butt on it without a premature flush. I have my phone in hand to Facebook and/or Tumblr and/or Twittter and/or Email depending on how much time this business may take, when I get a knock on the door. Then a jiggle of the locked handle. Then a voice says,

“Anyone in there?”

Well, of course someone is in here. The door is locked. Do you think the door locked itself? I shouldn’t have to answer. Locked door means occupied, right?

The handle jiggles again.

I want privacy. I didn’t want to do this at work in the first place. I would rather be at home with my fishy shower curtain, and my furry bathmat, and my magazine rack. Just find another restroom please.

A knock on the door again. A different voice asks,

“Anyone in there?”

“Occupied!” I say frustrated.

On the other side of the door I hear, “Well at least you got an answer.”

The answer is the door is locked!

I hear the two unknown bathroom would-be intruders mumbling on the other side of the door.

I finish my business, now feeling rushed.  I decide though to sit and wait, like a toilet ninja, in hopes that the two occupied-bathroom scientists have given up on my territory claim  and start a  grid search for a new bathroom to use.

Guess what?

They are out there still discussing how long before they can use the bathroom.

“Please go use another bathroom,” I whisper to myself, but I know that is not going to happen.

So I stand up. The laser eye does it’s job, and starts flushing the toilet. I hold onto the handicapped rails to make sure it doesn’t suck me in as well. The two idiots outside the door are going to hear the flush, thus giving them the signal to start tearing down the pup tent and bonfire they were building while waiting for me to finish. I start to kick whatever part of the toilet seat cover nest that didn’t travel with the initial flush into the toilet. I also do the appropriate amount of wiping and flushing until all is neat and tidy back there. I can picture the two on the other side of the door, staring at each other, like kids on Christmas morning, waiting for me to emerge. When I open the bathroom door, hopefully a bright light will be behind me, washing everything out except my silhouette, as I emerge like a god…or an alien…a bathroom alien…a bathroom alien god.

At this point I am contemplating keeping my pants around my ankles and exiting the bathroom that way, except I am sure I would be fired on the spot. Instead I pull them up and wash my hands, another signal to the masses that I am almost done. I imagine a throng of cheering people at there as they hear the water running.

With a sigh I open the door.

As the door opens two blank stares look at me, like deer caught in a car’s headlights.

The first idiot says to me,

“Were you OK in there, man?”

I pause and say,

“Yes. Yes, I am OK. Just a question. If the door is locked, what makes you think nobody is in there? Isn’t that a signal that the bathroom is occupied? Do you really need an inquisition at this point? What do you think?Did the door just locked itself? And what if the door locked itself? What are you going to do? You still can’t use the bathroom. Are you going to break down the door? If you break the door, your not going to be able to use the bathroom. You have no door. Your wanger is going to be exposed to all who walk by, because they are going to notice the broken door first and then your wanger. And what if you broke the door down while I was sitting on the toilet? How awkward would that be? I’m not sure at that point if I would finish my business or what for someone to come fix the door. You would still have to wait to use the bathroom at that point. Tell you what…next time you try the door and it’s locked, why don’t you assume someone is there, trying like hell, to have a peaceful dump, without two dumb asses jiggling the handle every five seconds and calling a press conference on the state of occupied bathrooms. Can you do that for me, man? Can you have a little patience?”

“Uh, yeah,” he says. “Sorry, man.”

“No problem,” I reply. “You might need a little Febreeze before going in there.”

And I walked away, head held high, hoping to God I do not have toilet paper stuck to my shoe.

Randoms Pt 6

15 Nov

I try not to use my phone when driving, but at red lights I think it’s OK. I need an App that tells me when the light has turned green. The only one I have at the moment is the car honking it’s horn behind me.

The porn market is pretty saturated already, but I think I have come up with a new fresh fetish: Nude girls throwing up into a bucket. I will be accepting investors if anyone is interested.

In my notes I wrote: Douche Bag News. I don’t remember what I was thinking at the time, but the title is pretty funny non-the-less.

How come when people from Britain sing, they don’t have an accent?

If I wasn’t married I probably would never own a pillow shammy or a bed skirt…or curtains.

The toddler wants a kitty cat, but I figure instead I would throw up on the carpet, pee in the corner, and take a file to the leg of the couch. Gives us the same effect while saving money kitty chow and litter.


Toddler: Up and Down rhyme.

Me: No, honey. They do not.

Toddler: Yes they do. That is what my teacher said.

Me: No, I’m sure she didn’t. Pup and Up rhyme, or Cup and Up rhyme.

Toddler: That is what I said. Pup and Up.

Me: No, no, you didn’t. You said Up and Down. You shouldn’t lie.

Toddler: I didn’t lie, I said it in Spanish.


Lately, I feel like I’m getting severe memory loss. I will start doing something and then the next thing you

Really Bad Ode To Call Of Duty MW3

9 Nov

My really, really bad ode to Modern Warfare 3. I apologize to real poets everywhere.


Every once couple of years

A great phenomenon appears

Which makes all the males diappears

For a while


From squeaky voice seven year olds

To out of work forty year olds

Game Stop for 5 dollars will holds

The game you await


For the game that will take hours

And cause lack of showers

As you play into the wee hours

With no potty break


There will be shooting and swearing

Rejoicing and tearing

Teeth gnashing and bearing

This is called fun, yes?


For Modern Warfare 3 is here

So grab your controller and beer

Get your calendar clear

The kids dinner can wait


Forget your girlfriend or your wife

Practice stealth with the knife

This game has great shelf life

I’m almost level 3


May your lag be unnoticable

May your points be uncontrollable

May your sniper be unnoticeable

And your sick days be plenty


For Modern Warfare 3 will be the stuff of legend and lore

Until Call of Duty Modern Warfare 4


Meanwhile Somewhere On The Internet Pt 14

4 Nov

It’s Friday…as if you didn’t already know you cheeky monkey!

(Hey British people, what does that mean anyway?)

Ghetto Toilet Paper

The Happiest Tattoo In The World


I hope she/it isn't taken yet


I love Saturday morning yard sards

Weird Dream About My Wife’s Gynecologist

1 Nov

 Had this dream that my wife’s Gynecologist was actually a Magician and not a Gynecologist at all.

So when the dream starts,  I am going with my wife to the Gynecologist’s office, which I would probably not do, because there is no reason for me to be there. When they call her name,  I go back with her to the little cold room, which I would probably not do, because there is no reason for me to be there.

In the room is only a table and nothing else.

She gets on the table, puts her legs in the stirrup things and a sheet magically appears and covers her. Now all you see is her feet spread apart, in the air, with a sheet covering her to the neck, in the stirrup thingys.

My point of view of the whole thing is at her head, looking down the sheet, to her stirrupy feet.

The Gynecologist comes in wearing the stereotypical top hat, black suit, white gloves,and red tie. He also has a pencil thin mustache and is holding a cane. Basically he looks like any Magician of the 1920s.

He doesn’t say a word. He holds up one gloved hand so we can see it’s empty, then reaches under the sheet and starts pulling out colored handkerchiefs that are all tied together.

My wife claps. Suddenly bright lights from overhead pop on and I realize we are on stage in front of a millions of people.

At the end of this very long string of handkerchiefs is a rose, which he hands to my wife and she smiles.

At this point I ask my wife,

“What the hell is going on?”

And she replies,

“Relax. Enjoy the show. This guy is good. It’s hard to get tickets.”

He waves his hand over the sheet dramatically, crotch level of my wife, and fifty or so colored balloons float out and disappear into the sky.

The traditional Ta-Da music plays.

The entire theater explodes with applause.

Then he reaches under the sheet again and pulls out one playing card. The Ace of Spades. He holds it up and asks me,

“Is this your card?”

The traditional Ta-Da music plays again.

The entire theater explodes with applause…again.

“I never picked a card, you idiot!” I yell. “I still don’t even know what’s going on!”

The Magician smiles. He holds up one finger and rubs his mustache.

Well, since we were on stage, with this Gynecologist/Magician doing magic tricks with my wife’s Hoo-Hoo…and it was my dream…I decided to turn the Gynecologist/Magician into a woman.

Take that! Now this dream was hot!

And just when she was about to perform her next trick…now naked of course…that’s when the toddler crawled into my bed and woke me up….


Meanwhile Somewhere On The Internet Pt 13

28 Oct

It’s Friday, casual clothes day at work. I’m wearing a red shirt and no pants myself. Accidental intentional theme this week.

Protected: The Zombie Circle

27 Oct

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Super Hero Facebook Post

26 Oct

Warning: Vulgar and crude humor ahead…

Black Soda: I will now call to order the National Super Hero Alliance Friendship League Of Justice And Merchandise Opportunities League Incorporated. First, roll call:

Black Soda: Black Jack you did not have to say your name twice.

Black Jack: I didn’t, that was just bad photoshop cropping on your part.

Black Soda: Oh…ok then.  White Salt Shaker can you read back the minutes of the last meeting please.

White Salt Shaker: I actually can not.

Black Soda: Ok…why?

White Salt Shaker: Blue Mouse nibbled them to shreds.

Blue Mouse: Can’t help it. That’s my super power…it’s my super nibble power.

White Salt Shaker: Then why don’t you super nibble something off the buffet? That’s what it’s there for!

Blue Mouse: Don’t like anything on the buffet. There is never any cheese, and White Trash Can is always throwing everything away before everyone is done. Can’t we get some cheese for the buffet please!

Black Soda: Fine. Motion for cheese on the buffet. All in favor?

Almost Everyone: Aye

Black Jack: Nay

Black Soda: The Ayes have it. Black Jack why did you say Nay?

Black Jack: Cheese makes me gassy, but I love cheese. If I see it, I will eat it.

Black Soda: Ok then…just something your going to have to deal with on your own, or with your psychologist…

White Wall: Or with your gastrologist…

Black Soda: (pounding a gavel) White Salt Shaker what is on the notes for today?

White Salt Shaker: First order of business….the city wants to disband the super group of Red Nightstand, Cream Barstool, Blue Pillowcase, and White Table. They say you leave a huge mess when ever you stop/help/fix whatever evil your called to stop/help/fix.

Red Nightstand: Not true!

Cream Barstool: Well…partly true.

White Table: Sometimes it can’t be helped.

Blue Pillowcase: (yawn)

Black Soda: Well, we are going to have to think of something. We can’t have the city disbanding you guys. You work well together. Any thoughts?

Blue Pillow: (yawns) Why don’t you add White Trash Can to the team. She can clean whatever mess is made by the others.

White Trash Can: I am nobody’s maid! They can clean their own mess!

Black Soda: What if we double your pay?

White Trash Can: I’m your maid.

Black Soda: All in favor?

Almost Everyone: Aye

Black Jack: Nay

Black Soda: The Ayes have it. Black Jack why did you say Nay?

Black Jack: Because White Trash Can and I have a baby swap every Thursday and Friday. I’m not sure I can find a replacement.

Black Soda: We will figure something out. White Salt Shaker, what is the next order of business?

White Salt Shaker: Um…the next order of business….is a little sensitive. Um…the city would like White Hot Pussy to change his super hero name and his especially his logo….

White Hot Pussy: What?! That is outrageous!

Everyone: (super hero murmuring)

Black Soda: (banging a gavel) Quiet, please…order…quiet.

Everyone: (super hero murmuring dies down)

White Salt Shaker: Um…the city would like you to change your name to Eggshell White Paula.

White Hot Pussy: What?! What does that even mean?

Everyone: (more super hero murmuring)

Black Soda: Quiet! White Hot Pussy it has been hard to market you with that super hero name, and your logo of a cat lying spread eagle wearing a bondage outfit was deemed too indecent to licence to T-Shirt and redneck ball cap manufactures…hell, you can’t say or print your name in any media outlet, like TV, Radio, or Newspaper….so maybe Eggshell White Paula isn’t a bad choice.

White Hot Pussy: Eggshell White Paula? What the hell kind of super hero name is that?

White Wall: I like it!

White Hot Pussy: You would, you like everything.

White Wall: Not true. I don’t like rainy Saturdays.

Black Soda: Focus people! Focus! Bottom line is… White Hot Pussy…your not bringing in any revenue.You would think this town would be all over you, but they are not, they are avoiding you like a STD.

White Wall: They kind of find you dry and smelly…and a little too hairy…it’s 2011…try shaving. You could get away with that in the 70’s…not today.

White Hot Pussy: What are you talking about?

Grey Ipod: Can I just say something here…a little something about freedom of speech…what are forefathers died for…what makes this country great….If people don’t like White Hot Pussy…if people don’t understand White Hot Pussy…if people want to laugh at White Hot Pussy…or lick White Hot Pussy when he is down…or screw White Hot Pussy because he is available…and he is, a very available super hero…then I say, White Hot Pussy…you…stay true to what you are! Don’t let this city call you a slut…

White Hot Pussy: The city has never called me a slut.

Grey Ipod: Don’t let this city call you a whore or used white trash every man, woman, and dog has slept with…

White Hot Pussy: Slept with? What are you talking about? What is wrong with you?

Grey Ipod: You keep being White Hot Pussy! And you keep being the best White Hot Pussy there ever was! When people look at you, they will say that was the best White Hot Pussy I ever laid eyes on! They will say, White Hot Pussy for everyone who loves America!

White Hot Pussy: I kind of like Eggshell White Paula…

Black Soda: All in favor?

Everyone: Aye.

Jack Handey In Trouble Again Pt Two (A Racist)

25 Oct

Same setup as Pt One of the post for the story behind Jack Handey….

Now when you read below, let me say this: Jack Handey is supposed to be funny, so I didn’t have him comment directly or seriously on any of the racist barbs thrown in the thread. I think my partners in crime felt the same way, because they did not either.

Let me also say this on behalf of Jack and anyone else with a sense of humor…it’s a good thing we have different  races on this great big gas ball we call Earth. That’s what gives us uniqueness in culture, food, dress, speech, government, and anything else you can think of…it’s what makes us interesting as people.

Guess what?

Just because someone points out something about another race, doesn’t make you a racist…it makes you observant and aware. It’s OK to notice different things about other people, if not we will all be the same…and that would be kind of boring.

It’s only a problem when you hate them for being different.

Anyway, there are plenty of other blogs and forums to have a debate on racism, so let’s get to the funny:

Once again the joke app gets me in trouble. I post on my page:

Red circle is Kenny making some magic, blue circle refers to yesterday post: Jack Handey In Trouble Again Pt One (Warning: Side Boob).

Here is the Jack Handey post in full:

Let’s dissect this a little bit:

First I think the sentence: I’m not Chinese asshole…sounds like your making fun of the way a Chinese person speaks. Say it in your head like a stereo-typical old Chinese man would say it in a black and white movie.


Second why is OK to be a racist towards people from the South, but not anyone else. No one ever gets upset over redneck jokes, including rednecks. Speak of anyone else though, and people go through the roof.

Since rednecks are so tolerant, Jack tried to smooth things out, but I think it got lost in the shuffle.

I also think it’s funny that people who got so upset about the Chinese joke resorted to cutting down women.

And let’s not forget  the old stand by of blaming everything on having a small penis. When in doubt blame the world’s problems on small penises, I always say…

Ok, I honestly never have said that before…

Good old Jack ended it with a penis joke.

With my apologies to the gay community. You know I love you guys…

…did that sound gay?