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The kind where you feel the poopie come out, but there is no poopie in the toilet.
The kind where you poopie it out, see it in the toilet, but there is nothing on the toilet paper.
The kind where you wipe your butt 50 times and it still feels unwiped, so you have to put some toilet paper between your butt and your underwear so you won't ruin them with stains.
SECOND WAVE POOPIE:
This happens when you're done poopie-ing and you've pulled your pants up to your knees, and you realize that you have to poopie some more.
POP-A VEIN-IN-YOUR-FOREHEAD POOPIE:
The kind where you strain so much to get it out, you practically have a stroke.
LINCOLN LOG POOPIE:
The kind of poopie that is so huge you're afraid to flush without first breaking it into little pieces with the toilet brush.
It's so noisy, that everyone within earshot is giggling.
The kind of poopie you have the morning after a long night of drinking. It's most noticeable trait is the skid marks on the bottom of the toilet.
The kind where you want to poopie but all you do is sit on the toilet and fart a few times.
SPINAL TAP POOPIE:
That's where it hurts so badly coming out, you'd swear it was leaving you sideways.
WET CHEEKS POOPIE:
The kind that comes out so fast, your butt cheeks get splashed with water.
THE DANGLING POOPIE:
This poopie refuses to drop in the toilet even though you are done poopie-ing it. You just hope that a shake or two will cut it loose.
THE SURPRISE POOPIE:
You're not even at the toilet because you are sure you are about to fart, but
- a poopie
I am in the bathroom organizing rubber duckie army
On one side are the regular rubber duckies
On the other are the novelties filled with goth, devil, and neon colored duckies.
LET THE WAR BEGIN!
OMG the novelties just sunk 99% of the reg army!
BUT WAIT! the last reg standing has a BAZOOKA! *BOOM!*
*cries* *pours bathwater on the ground* this is to all the poor duckies who risked their lives today *sniffle*
Peter Griffin: Yeah, I'm looking for some toilet training books.
Salesman: Oh, yes, we can help you there. "Everyone poops" is still the standard, of course. We've also got less popular "Nobody Poops But You".
Peter Griffin: Huh... well... you see... we're Catholic so... uh...
Salesman: Oh, well then you want "You're a Naughty Child and that's Concentrated Evil Coming Out of the Back of You".
I am . . . Using the John, taking a dump, taking a crap, in the crapper, dropping a duce, making a head call, tapping a kidney, taking the Browns to the Super Bowl, sinking a Lincoln log, torquing the butt cable, leaking the lizard, draining the dragon, realizing natures call, relieving myself of excess waste, taking a poo, dropping the Cosby kids off at the pool, in a meeting . . . you get the idea
A Fart could be quiet, and a fart could be loud. Some Leave a powerful, and poisenous cloud. A fart can be short. A fart can be long. Some farts are known, to sound just like a song. A fart can create a very-curious medley. A fart can be harmless, or silent, but deadly... A fart may not smell; while others are vile. A fart may pass quickly, or maybe linger awhile. Farts can be fun, Farts can be big, Especially when, They make your buttcheeks jig. A fart can occur in a number of places. And leave everyone with weird looks on their faces. From a grassy-green prarie, or crowded elevators... A fart will find all of us, sooner or later. See, not all farts are bad, that's simply not true... We must not forget... The funny, sweet, old farts like you!
Here I lie in stinky vapor,
Because some bastard stole the toilet paper,
Shall I lie, or shall I linger,
Or shall I be forced to use my finger.
Here I sit
Tried to ****
But only farted
Here I sit
What a caper
I have to ****
But I'm out of paper
You had your chance
I tried to fart,
And **** my pants!
Some people come here to take a ****,
I came here to leave one.
Some come here to sit and think,
Some come here to **** and stink,
But I come here to scratch my balls,
And read the bull**** on the walls...
Here I sit, I'm at a loss
Trying to **** out taco sauce.
When it comes, I hope and pray,
I don't blow my ass away
I have a morning ritual that I need to share. I call it "the terminator". First I crouch down in the shower in the classic "naked terminator traveling through time" pose. With my eyes closed I crouch there for a minute, visualizing either Arnold or the guy from the second movie (not the chick in the third one because that one sucked) and I start to hum the terminator theme. Then I slowly rise to a standing position and open my eyes. It helps me to proceed through my day as an emotionless, cyborg badass. The only problem is if the shower curtain sticks to my terminator leg. It ruins the fantasy.
A fart can be quiet,
A fart can be loud,
Some leave a powerful,
A fart can be short,
Or a fart can be long,
Some farts have been known,
To sound just like a song.
Some farts do not smell,
While others are vile,
A fart may pass quickly,
Or linger awhile.
A fart can create
A most-curious medley,
A fart can be harmless,
Or silent, but deadly.
A fart can occur
In a number of places,
And leave everyone
With strange looks on their faces.
From wide-open prairies,
To small elevators,
A fart will find all of us
Sooner or later.
So be not afraid
Of the invisible gas,
For always remember,
That farts, too, shall pass.
Isn't it amazing how many types of farts your body can create?
You can have a silent but deadly fart, loud and proud fart, squeaky and short-lived fart, last night's dinner fart, wet fart, your dad's monstrous neighbor-waking fart, the flapper/ripper fart, and the lift-the-leg so all of it can come out fart.
Yeah, well, all of those farts kind of morphed into one giant fart... busy cleaning out my pants (this may take a while)
Bud Light presents Real Men of Genius. Today we salute you, Mr. Restroom Toilet Paper refiller. Whithout your undying commitment we might find ourselves trapped in a stall armed only with our newspaper. Like a brave soldier you storm hostile territory delivering much needed supplies to your men. Should you leave one roll, or two, or perhaps that giant ten pound super roll. While others rest, you can't because somewhere there's a guy with his pants around his ankles doing the bunny hop in search of a fresh roll. So crack open an ice cold bud light O' master of the mens room. Because if you don't do your business, we can't do ours.
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