Please Scroll Down to See Forums Below 
Creepusmaximus
New member
GLW board is totally useless, this was the best thing posted on it this
>month. LOL
>
>
>This is a true story about blousekeeter who retired after a career as a
>trial lawyer. In his younger days, "blousie" (as we will call him) was a
>cadet at the U.S. Naval Academy in Annapolis. He was invited to a formal
>garden party at the Commandant's house -- dress whites and all that.
>
>Unfortunately, "blousie" had been suffering from a severe logjam for
>several
>days, with the result that his lower tract was as backed up as a two-stall
>crapper at the Ex-Lax factory.
>
>This day, however, "blousie" had the opposite problem; and with the
>inerrant
>timing that only a truly epic BM possesses, just as he arrived in the
>Commandant's back garden, the brown python decided to slither out of its
>cage.
>
>"blousie" made some excuse and did a forced march into the house. Knowing
>that this was going to be a really deadly dump, he bypassed the downstairs
>bathroom and located one on the second floor. He dropped trou, and after
>several minutes of agonized grunting and straining, the butt-buster hit the
>deck with a sickening thud. When he looked into the bowl, he discovered
>that
>this kielbasa was approximately the size, shape, color, and consistency of
>an MP's nightstick. Repeated flushings did nothing but swirl the monster
>around like a fecal Flying Dutchman doomed to sail the ceramic sea for all
>eternity.
>
>"blousie" couldn't find a weapon big and strong enough to break the back of
>this Titanic of Turds. (I think he tried the handle of Mrs. Commandant's
>hairbrush and -- who knows -- maybe the Old Man's toothbrush. YUK.)
>Beginning to panic, he determined that Moby Turd was never going to get a
>burial at sea, and the only alternative was to salvage this shipwreck from
>its watery grave and dispose of it via alternative means.
>
>Desperate times demand desperate measures. "blousie" entombed this beached
>whale in a winding sheet of toilet paper and dropped it out of the bathroom
>window, hoping it would land in the bushes below, hoping it would
>biodegrade, or at least be mistaken for the droppings of a stray gorilla.
>
>Unfortunately, "blousie" overestimated the path of his rectal rocket's
>trajectory -- as was made all too clear a few seconds later by the
>horrified
>shrieks and stampeding high heels of the ladies in the garden below. See,
>"blousie" had forgotten that the bathroom window overlooked the part of the
>garden where the party was located.
>
>He tells me he speedily went downstairs and exited both the front door as
>well as his hopes for a career as a naval officer. The law beckoned: a
>field
>where people are naturally used to burying shit. And the rest, as they say,
>is history. And all because of one anal anchor that refused to die.
>month. LOL
>
>
>This is a true story about blousekeeter who retired after a career as a
>trial lawyer. In his younger days, "blousie" (as we will call him) was a
>cadet at the U.S. Naval Academy in Annapolis. He was invited to a formal
>garden party at the Commandant's house -- dress whites and all that.
>
>Unfortunately, "blousie" had been suffering from a severe logjam for
>several
>days, with the result that his lower tract was as backed up as a two-stall
>crapper at the Ex-Lax factory.
>
>This day, however, "blousie" had the opposite problem; and with the
>inerrant
>timing that only a truly epic BM possesses, just as he arrived in the
>Commandant's back garden, the brown python decided to slither out of its
>cage.
>
>"blousie" made some excuse and did a forced march into the house. Knowing
>that this was going to be a really deadly dump, he bypassed the downstairs
>bathroom and located one on the second floor. He dropped trou, and after
>several minutes of agonized grunting and straining, the butt-buster hit the
>deck with a sickening thud. When he looked into the bowl, he discovered
>that
>this kielbasa was approximately the size, shape, color, and consistency of
>an MP's nightstick. Repeated flushings did nothing but swirl the monster
>around like a fecal Flying Dutchman doomed to sail the ceramic sea for all
>eternity.
>
>"blousie" couldn't find a weapon big and strong enough to break the back of
>this Titanic of Turds. (I think he tried the handle of Mrs. Commandant's
>hairbrush and -- who knows -- maybe the Old Man's toothbrush. YUK.)
>Beginning to panic, he determined that Moby Turd was never going to get a
>burial at sea, and the only alternative was to salvage this shipwreck from
>its watery grave and dispose of it via alternative means.
>
>Desperate times demand desperate measures. "blousie" entombed this beached
>whale in a winding sheet of toilet paper and dropped it out of the bathroom
>window, hoping it would land in the bushes below, hoping it would
>biodegrade, or at least be mistaken for the droppings of a stray gorilla.
>
>Unfortunately, "blousie" overestimated the path of his rectal rocket's
>trajectory -- as was made all too clear a few seconds later by the
>horrified
>shrieks and stampeding high heels of the ladies in the garden below. See,
>"blousie" had forgotten that the bathroom window overlooked the part of the
>garden where the party was located.
>
>He tells me he speedily went downstairs and exited both the front door as
>well as his hopes for a career as a naval officer. The law beckoned: a
>field
>where people are naturally used to burying shit. And the rest, as they say,
>is history. And all because of one anal anchor that refused to die.
