Profile for kookoobirdz:
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Best answers to questions:
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- a member for 21 years, 11 months and 8 days
- has posted 341 messages on the main board
- (of which 4 have appeared on the front page)
- has posted 0 messages on the talk board
- has posted 1 messages on the links board
- has posted 7 stories and 0 replies on question of the week
- They liked 0 pictures, 0 links, 0 talk posts, and 9 qotw answers.
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:(
Christopher looked forward to his first day at school with the enthusiasm only a child could muster, as yet unaware of how cruel other children could be.
He would soon learn...
(Tue 10th Sep 2002, 15:23, More)
Christopher looked forward to his first day at school with the enthusiasm only a child could muster, as yet unaware of how cruel other children could be.
He would soon learn...
(Tue 10th Sep 2002, 15:23, More)
Awwriiiight, awwriiiiight
Fo' our next numbah, we gonna take ya back. Hit it boys...
(Thu 30th May 2002, 6:08, More)
Fo' our next numbah, we gonna take ya back. Hit it boys...
(Thu 30th May 2002, 6:08, More)
Best answers to questions:
» Shit Stories
Ooh, almost forgot this one
My buddy Duke (how appropriate) told me the most horrendous and humiliating public shitting story I've ever heard. He was at a festival-type all day concert, but they had proper toilet facilities, not port-o-potties. And he had a kettle of volatile diarrhea brewing so he went and got in line for the crapper. It was a bathroom for a large venue so it had lots of urinals but also lots of toilet stalls, only they had no doors for some reason. So the place is packed to capacity and the line (queue) stretches out the door. So you have to stand there facing the row of occupied stalls waiting your turn, looking at people's backs if they're pissing or their genitals if they dared sit. Few dared. One by one people finish their business and walk out and the the next guy immediately takes his spot. So Duke's the next man, and the crapper right in front of the line opens up. He's noted the absence of stall doors by now, but there's nothing for it. He's going to explode. He's got to go. But as with every public-toilet-drunken-concert situation, the raise-the-seat-before-you-piss rule had been abandoned early on, so he's not about to sit on the piss-splattered thing. So he does the awkward hovering squat that I hear the womenfolk speak of now and then, sort of half leaning back and bracing one hand against the wall for balance. He's got his pants down to his knees, legs spread enough to keep them from falling all the way down, because the floor is a under minor flood of urine, and his man bits are on display for the line of guys waiting their turn. I guess none of us are accustomed to having to actually aim with our anuses and Duke was no exception. Because when he let rip, it didn't go down - - it went back - - in an explosive spray of giblets and gravy. The whole line of guys in front of him is recoiling in disgust and trying to look elsewhere and Duke's just frozen there in horror and helpless humiliation, thinking, "Sorry! Oh fuck, sorry!". And he wasn't finished. He tried to correct his aim but it was really no good in that squat position, so a couple more quick salvos went onto the wall and floor. He finishes, wipes, buttons up, takes a quick, pained look at his large mess and just has to leave. And he has to walk out right past the long line of guys who've just witnessed him paint the stall with his shit mud. It's hilarious now, but dear God, that must have been horrible.
(Fri 7th May 2004, 0:45, More)
Ooh, almost forgot this one
My buddy Duke (how appropriate) told me the most horrendous and humiliating public shitting story I've ever heard. He was at a festival-type all day concert, but they had proper toilet facilities, not port-o-potties. And he had a kettle of volatile diarrhea brewing so he went and got in line for the crapper. It was a bathroom for a large venue so it had lots of urinals but also lots of toilet stalls, only they had no doors for some reason. So the place is packed to capacity and the line (queue) stretches out the door. So you have to stand there facing the row of occupied stalls waiting your turn, looking at people's backs if they're pissing or their genitals if they dared sit. Few dared. One by one people finish their business and walk out and the the next guy immediately takes his spot. So Duke's the next man, and the crapper right in front of the line opens up. He's noted the absence of stall doors by now, but there's nothing for it. He's going to explode. He's got to go. But as with every public-toilet-drunken-concert situation, the raise-the-seat-before-you-piss rule had been abandoned early on, so he's not about to sit on the piss-splattered thing. So he does the awkward hovering squat that I hear the womenfolk speak of now and then, sort of half leaning back and bracing one hand against the wall for balance. He's got his pants down to his knees, legs spread enough to keep them from falling all the way down, because the floor is a under minor flood of urine, and his man bits are on display for the line of guys waiting their turn. I guess none of us are accustomed to having to actually aim with our anuses and Duke was no exception. Because when he let rip, it didn't go down - - it went back - - in an explosive spray of giblets and gravy. The whole line of guys in front of him is recoiling in disgust and trying to look elsewhere and Duke's just frozen there in horror and helpless humiliation, thinking, "Sorry! Oh fuck, sorry!". And he wasn't finished. He tried to correct his aim but it was really no good in that squat position, so a couple more quick salvos went onto the wall and floor. He finishes, wipes, buttons up, takes a quick, pained look at his large mess and just has to leave. And he has to walk out right past the long line of guys who've just witnessed him paint the stall with his shit mud. It's hilarious now, but dear God, that must have been horrible.
(Fri 7th May 2004, 0:45, More)
» Caught!
I am a small, small person
I'm at the wedding reception of my ex-girlfriend. It's over, and it's time to leave for the afterparty. I'm walking out and in an anteroom I see a bottle of champagne and two take-away food boxes. I look in the boxes and it's a sampling of the food from the reception buffet, which was awesome. I look around and there's nobody around, so, nice and drunk, I decide to swipe them and take them out to the car with me. But I don't want to be spied on my way out helping myself to a bottle of champagne. So I figure I'll stick it down my pants and cover it up with my shirt and coat and carry the food boxes in front of it so nobody will notice.
I've got it halfway down my pants, drunkenly leaning back and looking down at my waist when I hear, "Ohh!" and look up and it's the bride's mother, the sweetest angel woman in the world from a wonderful, established, classy, prominent family, looking at me with equal parts confusion, sorrow, and shock. Turns out it was food and drink for the bride and groom to eat in the car or the hotel (you never get to eat at your own reception so she had made them up some plates of food). And I had my shirt pulled up and was sticking it down my pants. To steal it. I had to pull it back out and set it back on the table and walk out mumbling something about "..thought they'd left.." I've never felt so horrible and ashamed in my life. I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!
(Sun 6th Jun 2010, 4:46, More)
I am a small, small person
I'm at the wedding reception of my ex-girlfriend. It's over, and it's time to leave for the afterparty. I'm walking out and in an anteroom I see a bottle of champagne and two take-away food boxes. I look in the boxes and it's a sampling of the food from the reception buffet, which was awesome. I look around and there's nobody around, so, nice and drunk, I decide to swipe them and take them out to the car with me. But I don't want to be spied on my way out helping myself to a bottle of champagne. So I figure I'll stick it down my pants and cover it up with my shirt and coat and carry the food boxes in front of it so nobody will notice.
I've got it halfway down my pants, drunkenly leaning back and looking down at my waist when I hear, "Ohh!" and look up and it's the bride's mother, the sweetest angel woman in the world from a wonderful, established, classy, prominent family, looking at me with equal parts confusion, sorrow, and shock. Turns out it was food and drink for the bride and groom to eat in the car or the hotel (you never get to eat at your own reception so she had made them up some plates of food). And I had my shirt pulled up and was sticking it down my pants. To steal it. I had to pull it back out and set it back on the table and walk out mumbling something about "..thought they'd left.." I've never felt so horrible and ashamed in my life. I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!
(Sun 6th Jun 2010, 4:46, More)
» My Worst Vomit
Your standard chain reaction vomit, Mexico, and jackass snapshots
When I was in college, my fraternity had this all day party every year and the more hardcore amongst us started it off each time by going out to this river in the morning and killing a keg between us. The rule, in typical moronic fraternity fashion, was that the tap on the keg could never be turned off from start to finish and none could spill, so somebody's cup always had to be being filled. Sounds easy enough if you've got 20 or so guys, but it's not. That's a lot of beer, and coming fast. And I've never been able to chug, funnel, or shotgun beer. It makes me sick (first discovered at age 16 in a horrid chili-cheese-hotdog-spewing-wall-coating incident at a friend's house). So I did my best, but this was on a hangover stomach, too, so it was bound to happen. I walked away from the keg a few steps and roared it all back out again. As I looked up into the eyes of the guy next to me, he had this mildly disgusted/shocked look on his face and I saw him catch a whiff, and then he let loose too, and the guy next to him immediately followed. And the funny part was that there was sort of a delayed reaction after that, maybe 10 or 15 seconds, everybody kind of standing very still and swallowing, but then two more guys puked on the other side of the keg, one after another. It's like the first two guys were done in by the smell and the second two fought valiantly against the visuals but were ultimately defeated. Fantastic! I was proud to have started the ball rolling.
I also just returned from Mexico, where basically all the food and water gives you violent diarrhea and vomit. It's like something huge explodes in your head and comes out both mouth and nostrils like whitewater rapids, accompanied by a horrible grunting, gurgling, liquid shout. The funny thing was that after I was finished, I woke up a couple of times during the night to hear my bunkmates having the identical experience. Normally people puke differently, kind of like how everyone's laugh is different. But whatever this is, it hits everyone the same, and sounds the same coming out. Fun! It happened to another guy at the breakfast table the next morning. With expert reflexes he managed to spin and direct it into a nearby planter.
My other fond puke memory is only in the form of snapshots. A girl who I didn't really like asked me to a concert of a band I did like, so I went. But I determined to have a good time despite her. So I was downing lots of bourbon before the show and snuck a fat flask of it in with me in my boot. Things went downhill very quickly and most of the evening is blank after that. I'm left only with snapshots, which seem to have been punctuated with vomit. Flashhh - Puking on the backs of the people in the row in front of us. Flashhh - on hands and knees on the nice rug in the very non-vomit-appropriate lobby, puking. Somewhere between those two, somebody hit me and I think that's when I lost my glasses. Flashhh - puking on my date in the cab. Flashhh - puking in her front yard. And then nothingness. Hey, at least she never asked me out again after that. That'll teach her.
(Fri 20th Aug 2004, 22:16, More)
Your standard chain reaction vomit, Mexico, and jackass snapshots
When I was in college, my fraternity had this all day party every year and the more hardcore amongst us started it off each time by going out to this river in the morning and killing a keg between us. The rule, in typical moronic fraternity fashion, was that the tap on the keg could never be turned off from start to finish and none could spill, so somebody's cup always had to be being filled. Sounds easy enough if you've got 20 or so guys, but it's not. That's a lot of beer, and coming fast. And I've never been able to chug, funnel, or shotgun beer. It makes me sick (first discovered at age 16 in a horrid chili-cheese-hotdog-spewing-wall-coating incident at a friend's house). So I did my best, but this was on a hangover stomach, too, so it was bound to happen. I walked away from the keg a few steps and roared it all back out again. As I looked up into the eyes of the guy next to me, he had this mildly disgusted/shocked look on his face and I saw him catch a whiff, and then he let loose too, and the guy next to him immediately followed. And the funny part was that there was sort of a delayed reaction after that, maybe 10 or 15 seconds, everybody kind of standing very still and swallowing, but then two more guys puked on the other side of the keg, one after another. It's like the first two guys were done in by the smell and the second two fought valiantly against the visuals but were ultimately defeated. Fantastic! I was proud to have started the ball rolling.
I also just returned from Mexico, where basically all the food and water gives you violent diarrhea and vomit. It's like something huge explodes in your head and comes out both mouth and nostrils like whitewater rapids, accompanied by a horrible grunting, gurgling, liquid shout. The funny thing was that after I was finished, I woke up a couple of times during the night to hear my bunkmates having the identical experience. Normally people puke differently, kind of like how everyone's laugh is different. But whatever this is, it hits everyone the same, and sounds the same coming out. Fun! It happened to another guy at the breakfast table the next morning. With expert reflexes he managed to spin and direct it into a nearby planter.
My other fond puke memory is only in the form of snapshots. A girl who I didn't really like asked me to a concert of a band I did like, so I went. But I determined to have a good time despite her. So I was downing lots of bourbon before the show and snuck a fat flask of it in with me in my boot. Things went downhill very quickly and most of the evening is blank after that. I'm left only with snapshots, which seem to have been punctuated with vomit. Flashhh - Puking on the backs of the people in the row in front of us. Flashhh - on hands and knees on the nice rug in the very non-vomit-appropriate lobby, puking. Somewhere between those two, somebody hit me and I think that's when I lost my glasses. Flashhh - puking on my date in the cab. Flashhh - puking in her front yard. And then nothingness. Hey, at least she never asked me out again after that. That'll teach her.
(Fri 20th Aug 2004, 22:16, More)
» World's Most Hated Food
Swiss Chard
I hate you Swiss Chard. Oh how I hate you. I have hated you ever since I figured out why dumpsters smell like dumpsters. It's because of you. I always thought they took on that unmistakable stench because of long years of bad rubbish odors combining together in an unholy sludge. But no, it turns out that they smell exactly like you did two days after I brought you home from the grocery store. Fuck you, Swiss Chard.
(Fri 16th Jul 2004, 22:46, More)
Swiss Chard
I hate you Swiss Chard. Oh how I hate you. I have hated you ever since I figured out why dumpsters smell like dumpsters. It's because of you. I always thought they took on that unmistakable stench because of long years of bad rubbish odors combining together in an unholy sludge. But no, it turns out that they smell exactly like you did two days after I brought you home from the grocery store. Fuck you, Swiss Chard.
(Fri 16th Jul 2004, 22:46, More)
» Shit Stories
Do you all have the "upper-decker" over there in the UK?
It's also known as the "backfloater". It isn't possible to inflict it on most public toilets because they're usually the type that just have pipework coming out of the wall to attach to the bowl. At least that's the case over here. For this stunt you need the kind of toilets people have in their homes or, say, in older hotels. It's the kind with the tank on the back of it with the heavy porcelain lid that you can lift off to jiggle with the valve or whatever. And by "whatever" of course, I mean "shit in it". This is a fantastic trick to play at house parties or wedding receptions or really wherever you can manage. It helps if you hate the people who own the toilet, though, or if they belong to the government, or they're your likewise degenerate drinking buddies. Step one, remove lid. Step two, shit in the tank. Step three replace lid. Step four, put on a nonchalant face and walk out. Step five, brag about it to your friends and instantly garner hero status for a month. The toilet's owners will be treated to a week of gradually lightening stinky cream-soda-tan water after each flush. Huzzah!
(Fri 7th May 2004, 5:47, More)
Do you all have the "upper-decker" over there in the UK?
It's also known as the "backfloater". It isn't possible to inflict it on most public toilets because they're usually the type that just have pipework coming out of the wall to attach to the bowl. At least that's the case over here. For this stunt you need the kind of toilets people have in their homes or, say, in older hotels. It's the kind with the tank on the back of it with the heavy porcelain lid that you can lift off to jiggle with the valve or whatever. And by "whatever" of course, I mean "shit in it". This is a fantastic trick to play at house parties or wedding receptions or really wherever you can manage. It helps if you hate the people who own the toilet, though, or if they belong to the government, or they're your likewise degenerate drinking buddies. Step one, remove lid. Step two, shit in the tank. Step three replace lid. Step four, put on a nonchalant face and walk out. Step five, brag about it to your friends and instantly garner hero status for a month. The toilet's owners will be treated to a week of gradually lightening stinky cream-soda-tan water after each flush. Huzzah!
(Fri 7th May 2004, 5:47, More)