Story time

[Orwell]

This is an article submitted to a 1999 Louisville Sentinel contest to
find out who had the wildest Christmas dinners. This won first prize.

Christmas With Louise

As a joke, my brother used to hang a pair of panty hose over his
fireplace before Christmas. He said all he wanted was for Santa to
fill them. What they say about Santa checking the list twice must be
true because every Christmas morning, although Jay's kids' stockings
were overflowed, his poor pantyhose hung sadly empty.

One year I decided to make his dream come true. I put on sunglasses
and went in search of an inflatable love doll. They don't sell those
things at Wal-Mart. I had to go to an adult bookstore downtown. If
you've never been in an X-rated store, don't go. You'll only confuse
yourself. I was there an hour saying things like, "What does this do?
You're kidding me! Who would buy that?" Finally, I made it to the
inflatable doll section.

I wanted to buy a standard, uncomplicated doll that could also
substitute as a passenger in my truck so I could use the car pool lane
during rush hour.

Finding what I wanted was difficult. Love Dolls come in many different
models. The top of the line, according to the side of the box, could
do things I'd only seen in a book on animal husbandry. I settled for
Lovable Louise. She was at the bottom of the price scale. To call
Louise a doll took a huge leap of imagination.

On Christmas Eve and with the help of an old bicycle pump, Louise came
to life.

My sister-in-law was in on the plan and let me in during the wee
morning hours. Long after Santa had come and gone, I filled the
dangling pantyhose with Louise's pliant legs and bottom. I also ate
some cookies and drank what remained of a glass of milk on a nearby
tray. I went home, and giggled for a couple of hours.

The next morning my brother called to say that Santa had been to his
house and left a present that had made him VERY happy but had left the
dog confused. She would bark, start to walk away, then come back and
bark some more.

We all agreed that Louise should remain in her panty hose so the rest
of the family could admire her when they came over for the traditional
Christmas dinner.

My grandmother noticed Louise the moment she walked in the door. "What
the heck is that?" she asked.

My brother quickly explained, "It's a doll."

"Who would play with something like that?" Granny snapped.

I had several candidates in mind, but kept my mouth shut.

"Where are her clothes?" Granny continued.

"Boy, that turkey sure smells nice Gran" Jay said, to steer her into
the dining room.

But Granny was relentless. "Why doesn't she have any teeth?"

Again, I could have answered, but why would I? It was Christmas and no
one wanted to ride in the back of the ambulance saying, "Hang on
Granny, hang on!"

My grandfather, a delightful old man with poor eyesight, sidled up to
me and said, "Hey, who's the naked gal by the fireplace?"

I told him she was Jay's friend.

A few minutes later I noticed Grandpa by the mantel, talking to
Louise.

Not just talking, but actually flirting. It was then that we realized
this might be Grandpa's last Christmas at home.

The dinner went well. We made the usual small talk about who had died,
who was dying, and who should be killed, when suddenly Louise made a
noise like my father in the bathroom in the morning. Then she lurched
from the panty hose, flew around the room twice, and fell in a heap in
front of the sofa.

The cat screamed. I passed cranberry sauce through my nose, and
Grandpa ran across the room, fell to his knees, and began
administering mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. My brother fell back over
his chair and wet his pants.

Granny threw down her napkin, stomped out of the room, and sat in the
car.

It was indeed a Christmas to treasure and remember.

Later in my brother's garage, we conducted a thorough examination to
decide the cause of Louise's collapse. We discovered that Louise had
suffered from a hot ember to the back of her right thigh.

Fortunately, thanks to a wonder drug called duct tape, we restored her
to perfect health!

[Otohiko]

Something dokool linked me to yesterday: http://img82.imageshack.us/img82/6374/p ... tvojt0.jpg

[Otohiko]

FUCK

stupid broken copypasta

ahem,

Something dokool linked me to yesterday: http://bash.org/?758379

[Fall_Child42]

While visiting my local health food store, I noticed how many non-food products are labeled "All-Natural." Toothpaste. Dog biscuits. Deodorants. Some of them, like those Carrot-Honey-Ginger soaps, sound good enough to eat. Is it a soap, I found myself asking, or a salad? Recently, I decided to find out, by eating a wide variety of "All-Natural" products, and reporting on their delicate flavors and aromas. First, I taste-tested three all-natural soaps, and here are my findings.



Grandma's Old-Fashioned Oatmeal Soap. Oatmeal adds a nice texture to oatmeal cookies and oatmeal bars -- would it do the same for oatmeal soap? To find out, I took a giant bite of this crunchy beige bar, chewing thoughtfully. The taste was not entirely unpleasant, with a mild creaminess delicately balanced atop the solid earthy flavor of oatmeal. As the soap interacted with my saliva, however, my mouth began to fill with suds, and it was all I could do to choke down the bite of soap, most of which had lodged in my back teeth. It was akin to eating a box of Oreo cookies and having the creamy filling pack itself into your rear molars like spackling compound ... but much, much soapier.
Taste: 5 out of 10
Aroma: 8 out of 10
Presentation: 10 out of 10



Burt's Bees Tomato Garden Soap. This soap sounded not only delicious, but downright healthy. Who can resist the goodness of fresh tomatoes in a springtime garden? I took an enormous bite of this lovely rose-colored soap, but was disappointed to find it nearly flavorless. It frothed in my mouth as I chewed, and I could just barely make out an undertone of tomato beneath the waxy, soapy mess. Visually, a beautiful soap, but the taste just doesn't measure up: where the hell is the tomato?
Taste: 3 out of 10
Aroma: 7 out of 10
Presentation: 10 out of 10



Tom's Natural Glycerin Soap. I was looking forward to dining on this liquid soap, since the back label lists every ingredient, along with where it is found in nature. I squirted a few ounces onto my tongue, and though I would love to comment on the taste, I cannot because THIS SHIT BURNED MY MOUTH. Honestly, it was like holding a mouthful of flaming kerosene. I managed to swallow a small amount, which shot down my gullet like Satan's horseman riding his fiery chariot into Hell. I began to gag, so I ran to the sink and desperately siphoned water into my mouth. My tongue screamed as if I had dipped it in boiling water, and my throat felt like it had been scoured with an industrial-strength sanding drill. While Tom's soap may be au naturel, my mouth is in au natur-Hell.
Taste: 1 out of 10
Aroma: 5 out of 10
Presentation: 3 out of 10




So I guess that's what it's like to wash out your mouth with soap.

The gastrointestinal effects of my initial taste test were minimal, except for violent eruptions of gas throughout the night. These deep tuba notes were completely odorless (perhaps they had been washed clean), but almost disturbingly loud. One honk of the trombone, which occurred at 3:00 am, was so noisome that it actually roused my wife from a deep slumber. "Cut it out," she mumbled, then rolled over and went back to sleep.

Nad's Hair Removal Gel. "Sue Ismael was desperate to find a product that would remove -- as painlessly as possible -- the thick dark hair covering the arms and legs of her daughter, six-year-old Natalie," explains the Nad's website. So she named the product not "Natalie's," but "Nad's." Now, what's worse: your mom telling everyone you're a six-year-old Sasquatch, or your mom naming you after the balls? Hopefully the profits from GoNad's are going to therapy for the kid.

Anyway, Nads is this slimy green goop that you smear over hairy body parts. Then you cover the goopy hair with a cloth and rip it off, which is as "painless" as, oh, the bite of a dozen vipers. The goop is made from honey, molasses, and viper puke, which gives it its unique greenish hue. Surprisingly, it had a sweet, grassy smell, not at all unpleasant. I globbed an enormous spoonful into my mouth, and found that the hair removal paste had just the right balance of complex fruitiness and plummy sweetness. I mused that it might make an excellent dessert topping, except for the stray hairs that were trapped in the goo from the last time my wife deforested my back.
Taste: 9 out of 10 (10 out of 10 without hairs)
Aroma: 8 out of 10
Presentation: 2 out of 10



Naturade Aloe Vera 80 Shampoo. It's 80% aloe vera, and since my tongue was still scorched from eating Tom's of Maine liquid soap, flaps of skin hanging loose from my upper palate like party streamers, I thought some nice soothing aloe vera would do the trick. I was right: soft on the edges, and rich throughout the finish, the shampoo had a rose-scented creaminess that melted languidly down my throat. The delicately floral nose was not presumptuous, and I believe this shampoo would be a welcome addition to any condiment bar. Bravo, Naturade!
Taste: 7 out of 10
Aroma: 8 out of 10
Presentation: 4 out of 10



Tom's Natural Deodorant (Unscented). Even though that bastard Tom fried my mouth with his liquid soap, so that I will never taste properly again, I decided to give his all-natural deodorant a try. We all know "Unscented" is never unscented, and the aroma of this stick gel was slight and sweet, with a hint of musk. I wasn't sure how to eat a deodorant stick, so I licked down the first inch, finding it to be richly unctuous, with undertones of spice and coriander. I pushed up another inch of stick and took an enormous bite, discovering it had the consistency of soft cake. I was able to choke it all down except for the bit that got stuck in my teeth. On the plus side, twelve hours later, my breath remains delightfully fresh.
Taste: 3 out of 10
Aroma: 2 out of 10
Presentation: 3 out of 10




The gastrointestinal effects of this taste test were slightly more worrisome. The baby started crying at 4:00 am, and as I went into his room to soothe him, I accidentally emitted a quantity of burning intestinal gas that kept the poor infant awake for a full hour, tearfully rubbing his nose and eyes. That probably makes me a bad parent, but at least I didn't create a hair removal product for him called "Yambag."

PetGuard All-Natural Cat Food. I've never felt sorry for cats, until I ate a can of this shit. Somewhere into my fifth or sixth bite, my wife, who was taking pictures, said, "Spit it out if you want; don't feel obligated to swallow." Then she added, "I've heard that once or twice before," which caused me to snort some cat food up my nose. It struck me that it might taste better on some bread, so I made myself a sandwich (pictured). That helped, but sadly, cats can't make sandwiches.
Taste: 1 out of 10
Aroma: 1 out of 10
Presentation: 1 out of 10


LifeTree Bathroom Cleaner. A powerful medicinal smell washed over me when I opened the bottle; the overpowering pungency of lavender oil was enough to make my eyes water. And what better way to clean your bathroom than by smearing it with lavender? Who needs Comet or Soft Scrub to clean out those stubborn poo rings from the bowl? (Put a little 'Tussin on it.) On the other hand, this all-natural cleaning product both smelled and tasted about as close as you can get to chemical without using chemicals, so maybe it works. Hey, I'm not here to use it, I'm just here to taste it.
Taste: 1 out of 10
Aroma: 1 out of 10
Presentation: 7 out of 10 (nice bottle)



Tick'd Off Tick Guard. "NO DEET!" advertised the label, which is probably synonymous with "TOTALLY INEFFECTIVE!" After the cat food, this insect repellent had a delightful mintiness (.6% peppermint oil), with hints of lemongrass and rosemary. It might make an excellent basting sauce, and we can assume that ticks would not be attracted to your barbecue (bonus). My friend Tom called during this portion of taste test, and asked, "Does it taste like chicken?" "No," I replied, "it tastes like a chicken marinade."
Taste: 7 out of 10
Aroma: 9 out of 10
Presentation: 7 out of 10




The gastrointestinal effects of this taste test were severe. I don't know which of the products I consumed over the last few days did this to me (one reader said that aloe vera is a powerful laxative, so maybe it was the shampoo), but I spent an awful long time on the bowl last night. And I don't mean the cereal bowl, though at one point I was looking for additional vessels in case the toilet overflowed. Thank God I have that lavender bathroom cleaner.

While I was shopping for these products at my local health food store, I also noticed an herbal supplement called "Virility For Men," which roused (heh) my curiosity. So I ended my week of "all-natural experiments" by trying out this herbal Viagra. I didn't think it would do anything, though, so I ate the entire bottle. Turns out, this might have been a mistake.


Kal's Virility For Men is an "herbal supplement," or as I prefer to think of it, "a very expensive vitamin." ($19.99 for a bottle of 60 tablets.) Because it is an herbal supplement, and therefore totally ineffective, they can't make any hard (heh) claims, but the tablets have a bunch of wacky ingredients like "Adrenal Substance (bovine)," which I think means cow cum, and the aforementioned "Deer Antler," which we all know is an aphrodisiac ... if you are a deer.

I was convinced that none of these ingredients would have an effect on me, so I poured the entire bottle into my hand, and downed the horse tablets with several shots of Kahlua. It is worth noting that my wife was away at work, so if I were to become uncontrollably virile, I would have to find a neighborhood dog ... like the guy pictured on the label.


Woof.

Half an hour later, I had a most unusual experience. There was a warmth in my head and face, which at first I attributed to the Kahlua, until it became an intense burning, like the top of my head was on fire. I had a buzz on -- literally, my head was buzzing -- as the warmth spread through my eyes, ears, neck, and arms. I was waiting for the buzz to make its way down to Fresno, if you get my meaning, but it never did. After about an hour and a half, it just stopped. I wish I could report that I made my wife conceive septuplets that night, or that I impregnated a platypus, but the results were just not that exciting.

I did perform oral on a neighborhood dog, but that was totally unrelated.




The gastrointestinal effects of the experiment, however, were most unfortunate. I used the restroom later in the day and was shocked to find my urine radioactive yellow. I mean, I could have assembled a nuclear weapon out of my pee. That was not nearly as disturbing, however, as the intense GroganLoad(tm) I experienced several hours later. My wife came home from work to find me locked in the bathroom, groaning.

"Are you OK?" she asked.

"Honey," I said, "I think we may need to dynamite the toilet bowl."

She did not find this a particularly virile statement, and it didn't help when I added, "We also might need some new wallpaper."

When I emerged from the bathroom an hour later, my eyebrows partially singed, I knew from the look on her face that I would not be enjoying any virile activities for some time.


That concludes my all-natural taste test. Since you made it all the way through without losing your lunch, I have a crazy story to tell you about the making of this ZUG prank.

To get the all-natural products I'd need for this prank, I went to Bread and Circus, our local health food chain. During college, I worked at Bread and Circus (now owned by Whole Foods Market), and it was unquestionably the best company I've ever worked for. Employees have the chance to participate in stock options, profit-sharing, and charitable activities, benefits seldom found in the retail grocery business. That's why, for the past five years, Fortune Magazine has named Whole Foods Market one of the 100 Best Companies To Work For In America.

What I liked best about the company was its list of Core Values, which were not just words, but a philosophy that all "team members" (not employees) were expected to carry out. It sounds corny, but when you see your co-workers passionately living up to a standard of excellence, it inspires you to do the same. For instance, when I worked there, one of the core values read, "We will provided the highest level of customer service in the world." Not "that we can," or "possible," but "in the world."

So there I was, shopping Bread and Circus for wacky all-natural products. I had an armful of shampoos and insect repellents, and I took them over to the personal care section, where a young woman asked me if I needed help. "I have an unusual question," I said. "I run a comedy site, and I'm going to eat these products next week, then write a food column where I critique the taste of each one. I need to know, is there anything here that will kill me?"

The woman was amused by my question. She "got it." She announced over the store P.A., "I need a team member to the Nutrition department for a humorous question." Momentarily, two other women arrived: a middle-aged black woman and a younger, frazzled-looking white woman. I explained my situation again. "Will I die if I eat any of these things?" I asked.

The tired-looking woman sighed. "I can't believe this," she said. "Do you understand that I am busy? I don't have time for this. I've got customers out there!" Now, it was 2:05 pm on a weekday, so she must have been referring to the maddening 2:05 rush. "This is ridiculous," she said, and turned to walk away.

"I just wanted to know if I will die," I said, weakly.

As she was walking away, she muttered, "I don't give a shit if you die."

I just stood there, staring quizzically at the other two women, who were probably more shocked than I was. "Hmm," I finally said. "So Bread and Circus doesn't give a shit if I die. That will make an excellent introduction to my article."

The two remaining associates snapped into action. If you want to get killer customer service, just get an employee to tell you she doesn't give a shit if you die, because these two women were ready to do anything. "Sir," said the black woman, "just because it's all-natural doesn't mean it's edible. Strychnine is all-natural. We just can't be held responsible if you choose to eat any of these products."

"That was a very professional way of explaining it," I said, "much better than saying you don't give a shit if I die."

The conversation went back and forth like that for some time, with me working in the "I don't give a shit if you die" comment at every opportunity. In the back of my mind, I was frantically trying to remember the names of the Whole Foods Market executive team. Oh, it would have been beautiful to just pull a name out of my head: "I'm sure CEO John Mackey would be interested to hear that the company doesn't give a shit if I die." Why couldn't I have one of those Trivial Pursuit brains that remembers every meaningless detail? I probably did at one time, before I started eating the shampoo.

On the way out, the original associate grabbed me by the arm. "Sir," she said, "you understand that there are a lot of people who work at this store. If you write about this one incident, it will reflect poorly on everyone."

"That is true," I said, and turned to leave.

"Sir," she pleaded.

"You have been very helpful," I looked at her nametag, "Karin. And that will be noted." And with that I walked away.

this amusing copy pasta brought to you by Zug.com

[Orwell]

That all natural shit isn't too bad, at least compared to when you use regular deoderant which has alunimum salts and your skin has a god awful allergic reaction to it.

[SQ]

It's not really a story, so much as a rant. But it's a damn hilarious rant.
http://www.thebestpageintheuniverse.net ... =macs_cant

[Orwell]

(3 October 2004, Galati, Romania) Constantin, 67, lived in a formerly peaceful village near Galati. But lately Constantin couldn't get any sleep, all because of a single noisy chicken. Night after night he dreamed of wringing its neck, or even better, chopping its head off and eating it. One night, he finally had enough. He roused himself from bed and headed out to the yard in his underwear, determined to bring silence to his home.

The sleep-deprived villager grabbed that chicken by the neck and chopped its head right off. Only then did he realize that he had confused his own penis for the chicken's neck. While Constantin stood stunned by his folly, his dog rushed over and gobbled up the treat.

He was rushed to the hospital, bleeding heavily. Doctors sewed up the wound and pronounced him out of danger. He is also in no danger of reproducing.

[CodeZTM]

(3 October 2004, Galati, Romania) Constantin, 67, lived in a formerly peaceful village near Galati. But lately Constantin couldn't get any sleep, all because of a single noisy chicken. Night after night he dreamed of wringing its neck, or even better, chopping its head off and eating it. One night, he finally had enough. He roused himself from bed and headed out to the yard in his underwear, determined to bring silence to his home.

The sleep-deprived villager grabbed that chicken by the neck and chopped its head right off. Only then did he realize that he had confused his own penis for the chicken's neck. While Constantin stood stunned by his folly, his dog rushed over and gobbled up the treat.

He was rushed to the hospital, bleeding heavily. Doctors sewed up the wound and pronounced him out of danger. He is also in no danger of reproducing.

They had this on Mind of Mencia. He got the Dee Dee Dee award for it.