the VLS thread about nothing....

[venemis]

bored at work.... need.... something ........ to ........ do .......... argh~!

[Gt-R R34]

I have documents to do. but i don't want to work

[Conan O'Brien Sex Video]

same here. 1 more hour and i'm outta here. somebody post something interesting here.

[venemis]

I wanna get off in an hour too!

[pintoBC_3sgte]

its cool and cloudy in kelowna today.. like 20 outside. good ol vancouver weather... i miss it haha except the rain!

[!Tigger]

fcuking rain

[buttered corn]

atleast it stopped now. LOL

[Girl]

The life of Girl.

So this morning I woke up to the aftermath of what was suppose to be an innocent dinner with the girls to a splitting headache and when I say splitting, I mean it feels as though the frontal and rear lobes were splitting into a dozen pieces. I realized it was a little after 6am and I had a dozen text messages and voicemail messages on my phone.

My girlfriend M had called me on a Wednesday night to invite me for a get together she was planning on Thursday night. Due to M's job and her personal background, she knows practically everybody in Vancouver, from the Marketing Director of a prominent hotel to the guy who can sell you the best semi-automatics. If you knew M and was on her good books, you'd be going to the city's most buzzing events and abiding all the lineups at any club with VIP as well. I grew up with M and trust me when I say she is one of those girls that EVERYONE would like...even the Pope. It's always a yes with her, even if you call her up at 3am to go to LA for a weekend of shopping, she'd be right on it. She's never studied a day in her life and has come out with honors, she is up-to-date with current events, and has to be one of the most diverse conversationists I know. She can out-eat, out-drink, and out-party any single person. Oh and did I mention she was single, easy on the eyes and drives stick?

Anyways I digress. So when M says Girls Night Out, it really means dinner, wine, lots of alcohol in Yaletown, followed by provocative convos and intrigued men approaching us.

Since dinner was so late notice, it was only M, J, and I doing it and a couple of other girls were showing up a little after. The day had been dreary and miserable, I had locked myself out of the office and work had been just absolutely tedious, so needless to say I was not looking forward to dinner. I wasn't really dressed to impress either, wearing a black Alain Manoukian square top cami with a poppy orange BCBG cardigan and black flowy mid-length pants, and flip-flops. YES I wore flip-flops, lets say I like to rebel against work policy and for some reason they seem to put-up with me. But yes I looked sort of like a librarian, especially when I put my glasses on.

I got to M's house and I really didn't look like I should be going out with them. M had on severe stiletto ankle boots with tight skinny denims and a charcoal motorcycle jacket. J, a sweet gorgeous looking girl was sporting a flowy grey v-neck top that cinched at the waist which hugged her rear seductively, dark grey leggings and boots made of raw leather. Her long hair and kitten bangs gave her this innocent yet sensual look. I'm a girl and I have to admit that my girlfriends are HOT.

Anyways we ended up heading downtown, and like I said before had some Tapas with our alcohol, flirted with the waiter, eavesdropped on the couple next to us and once the alcohol was hitting us, the conversations became more and more....entertaining? Emotions were flying, dirty secrets were revealed and it was your ultimate Gossip Girl moment. Our other girl friends met up with us a little later and all I can say is things just got worse from there on. We avoided death maybe 3 times?

Either way I came home, passed out and this morning recieved over 10 messages from different people because you see these girls, except for M whose single, they all have SO's but that doesn't stop them from finding something better, finding extra curricular activities with other people or an excuse to find some flirting time. So there they were admist our drunkeness, they tried to get me to find them a nice, succesful, good looking guy for part-time for full-time uses. They eventually took my phone and made some calls, even some long distance ones. Now my text message inbox is tainted with naughty exchanges, many "WTF's", "i don't do girls with boyfriends", "Girl is this you?" texts and voicemail messages.

So what was suppose to be a quiet dinner, turned into a High School Musical version of Girls Gone Wild. J was invited to some clubbing event tonight...

[nickmak]

god damn it.

arrggh.

[ralli-kart]

i know this story has been circulating on the net and is older than god, but its worth a read if you havent done so.

Now, I know that there is a lot of embellisment that occurs on this site and I am aware that a small number of things are perhaps sheer fabrication, but I have a story to tell that is the absolute truth.

Funniest damn thing that has ever happened to me. A couple of weeks ago we decided to cruise out to Ryan's Steakhouse for dinner. It was a Wednesday night which means that macaroni and beef was on the hot bar, indeed the only night of the week that it is served.

Wednesday night is also kid's night at Ryan's, complete with Dizzy the Clown wandering from table to table entertaining the little bastards.

It may seem that the events about to be told have little connection to those two circumstances, but all will be clear in a moment.

We went through the line and placed our orders for the all-you-can-eat hot bar then sat down as far away from the front of the restaurant as possible in order to keep the density of kids down a bit. Then I started my move to the hot bar. Plate after plate of macaroni and beef were consumed that evening, I tell you -- in all, four heaping plates of the pseudo-Italian ambrosia were shoved into my belly. I was sated.

Perhaps bit too much, however. I had not really been feeling well all day, what with a bit of gas and such. By the time I had eaten four overwhelmed plates of food, I was in real trouble.

There was so much pressure on my diaphragm that I was having trouble breathing.

At the same time, the downward pressure was building. At first, I thought it was only gas which could have been passed in batches right at the table without to much concern.

Unfortunately, that was not to be.

After a minute or so it was clear that I was dealing with explosive diarrhea. It's amazing how grease can make its way through your intestines far faster than the food which spawned the grease to begin with, but I digress...

I got up from the table and made my way to the bathroom. Upon entering, I saw two sinks immediately inside the door, two urinals just to the right of the sinks, and two toilet stalls against the back wall.

One of them was a handicapped bathroom. Now, normally I would have gone to the handicapped stall since I like to stretch out a bit when I take a good poo, but in this case, the door lock was broken and the only thing I hate worse than my wife telling me to stop cutting my toenails with a pair of diagional wirecutters is having someone walk in on me while I am taking a poo.

I went to the normal stall.

In retrospect, I probably should have gone to the large, handicapped stall even though the door would not lock because that bit of time lost in making the stall switch proved to be a bit too long under the circumstances. By the time I had walked into the regular stall, the pressure on my @$$ was reaching Biblical proportions.

I began "The Move."

For those women who may be reading this, let me take a moment to explain "The Move."

Men know exactly what their bowels are up to at any given second. And when the time comes to empty the cache, a sequence of physiological events occur that can not be stopped under any circumstances. There is a move men make that involves simultaneously approaching the toilet, beginning the body turn to position ones @$$ toward said toilet, hooking ones fingers into ones waistline, and pulling down the pants while beginning the squat at the same time.

It is a very fluid motion that, when performed properly, results in the flawless expulsion of poo at the exact same second that ones @$$ is properly placed on the toilet seat. Done properly, it even assures that the choad is properly inserted into the front rim of the toilet in the event that the piss stream lets loose at the same time; it is truly a picture of coordination rivaling that of a skilled ballet dancer.

I was about half-way into "The Move" when I looked down at the floor and saw a pile of vomit that had been previously expelled by one of those little bastards attending kids night; it was mounded up in the corner so I did not notice it when I had first walked into the stall.

Normally, I would not have been bothered by such a thing, but I had eaten so much and the pressure upward was so intense, that I hit a rarely experienced gag reflex. And once that reflex started, combined with the intense pressure upward caused by the bloated stomach, four plates of macaroni and beef started coming up for a rematch.

What happened next was so quick that the exact sequence of events are a bit fuzzy, but I will try to reconstruct them as best I can.

In that moment of impending projectile vomiting, my attention was diverted from the goings-on at the other end.

To put a freeze frame on the situation, I was half crotched down to the toilet, pants pulled down to my knees, with a load of vomit coming up my esophagus. Now, most of you know that vomiting takes precidence over poo no matter what is about to come slamming out of your @$$. It is apparently an evolutionary thing since poo will not kill you, but vomiting takes a presence of mind to accomplish so that you do not aspirate any food into the bronchial tubes and perhaps choke to death. My attention was thus diverted.

At that very split second, my @$$ exploded in what can only be described as a wake...you know, as in a newspaper headline along the lines of "30,000 Killed In Wake of Typhoon Fifi" or something similar. In what seemed to be most suitably measured in cubic feet, an enormous plug of poo the consistancy of thick mud with embedded pockets of greasy liquid came flying out of my @$$. But remember, I was only half-way down on the toilet at that moment. The poo wave was of such force and of just such an angle in relation to the back curve of the toilet seat that it ricocheted off the back of the seat and slammed into the wall at an angle of incidence equal to the angle at which it initally hit the toilet seat.

Then I sat down.

Recall that when that event occured, I was already half-way to sitting anyway and had actually reached the point of no return. I have always considered myself as relatively stable gravitationally, but when you get beyond a certain point, you're going down no matter how limber you may be.
Needless to say, the poo wave, though of considerable force, was not so sufficient so as to completely glance off the toilet seat and deposit itself on the walls, unlike what you would see when hitting a puddle with a high-pressure water hose; even though you throw water at the puddle, the puddle gets moved and no water is left to re-form a puddle. There was a significant amount of poo remaining on about one-third of the seat rim which I had now just collapsed upon.

Now, back to the vomit...

While all the poo was going on, the vomit was still on its way up. By the time I had actually collapsed on the toilet, my mouth had filled up with a goodly portion of the macaroni and beef I had just consumed.

OK, so what does the human body instinctively do when vomiting?

One bends over. So I bent over. I was still sitting on the toilet, though.


Therefore, bending over resulted in me placing my head above my now
slightly- opened legs, positioned in between my knees and waist. Also directly above my pants which were now pulled down to a point just midway between my knees and my ankles. Oh, did I mention that I was wearing not just pants, but sweat pants with elastic on the ankles?

In one mighty push, some three pounds of macaroni and beef, two or three Cokes, and a couple of Big, Fat Yeast Rolls were deposited in my pants...on the inside...with no ready exit at the bottom down by my feet.

In the next several seconds, there were a handful of farts, a couple of turds, and the event ended, yet I was now sitting there with my pants full of vomit, my back covered in poo that had bounced off the toilet, spattered on three ceramic-tiled walls to a height of about five feet, and still had enough force to come back at me, covering the back of my shirt with droplets of liquid poo. All while thick poo was spread all over my @$$ in a ring curiously in the shape of a toilet seat.

And there was no #@^& toilet paper.

What could I do but laugh. I must have sounded like a complete maniac to the guy who then wandered into the bathroom. He actually asked if I was OK since I was laughing so hard I must have sounded like I was crying hysterically. I calmed down just enough to ask him if he would get the manager. And told him to have the manager bring some toilet paper. When the manager walked in, he brought the toilet paper with him, but in no way was prepared for what happened next. I simply told him that there was no way I was going to explain what was happening in the stall, but that I needed several wet towels and I needed him to go ask my wife to come help me. I told him where we were sitting and he left.

At that point, I think he was probably assuming that I had pissed just a bit in my pants or something similarly benign.

About two minutes later, my wife came into the bathroom not knowing what was wrong and with a certain amount of worry in her voice. I explained to her (still laughing and having trouble getting out words) that I had a slight accident and needed her help. Knowing that I had experienced some close calls in the past, she probably assumed that I had laid down a small turd or something and just needed to being the car around so we could bolt immediately.

Until I asked her, I'm sure she had no idea that she was about to go across the street and purchase me new underwear, new socks, new pants, a new shirt, and (by that time due to considerable leakage around the elastic ankles thingies) new sneakers.

And she then started to laugh herself since I was still laughing. She began to ask for an explanation as to what had happened when I promised her that I would tell her later, but that I just needed to handle damage control for the time being.

She left.

The manager then came back in with a half-dozen wet towels and a few dry ones. I asked him to also bring a mop and bucket upon which he assured me that they would clean up anything that needed to be cleaned.

Without giving him specific details, I explained that what was going on in that stall that night was far in excess of what I would expect anyone to deal with, what with most of the folks working at Ryan's making minimum wage of just slightly above.

At that moment, I think it dawned on him exactly the gravity of the situation. Then that manager went so far above the call of duty that I will be eternally grateful for his actions. He hooked up a hose.

Fortunately, commercial bathrooms are constructed with tile walls and tile floors and have a drain in the middle of the room in order to make clean up easy. Fortunately, I was in a commercial bathroom.

He hooked up the hose to the spigot located under the sink as I began cleaning myself up with the wet towels. Just as I was finishing, my wife got back with the new clothes and passed them into the stall, whereupon I stuffed the previously worn clothing into the plastic bag that came from the store, handing the bag to my wife. I finished cleaning myself off and carefully put on my new clothes, still stuck in the stall since I figured that it would be in bad taste to go out of the stall to get redressed in the event I happened to be standing there naked and some little bastard kid walked in. At that point, I had only made a mess; I had not yet committed a felony and intended to keep it that way.

When I finished getting dressed, I picked up the hose and cleaned up the entire stall, washing down the remains toward the drain in the center of the room. I put down the hose and walked out of the bathroom. I had intended to go to the manager and thank him for all he had done, but when I walked out, three of the management staff were there to greet me with a standing ovation. I started laughing so hard that I thought I was going to throw up again, but managed to scurry out to the car where my wife was now waiting to pick me up by the front door.

The upshot of all this is that I strongly recommend eating dinner at Ryan's Steak House. They have, by far, the nicest management staff of any restaurant in which I have eaten.

[Alphamale]

Fuck you, motherfucker!

[KingDeeCee]

Originally Posted by ralli-kart

i know this story has been circulating on the net and is older than god, but its worth a read if you havent done so.

I thought I was going to get Bel Air'd

[hongy]

Originally Posted by ralli-kart

i know this story has been circulating on the net and is older than god, but its worth a read if you havent done so.

oh god...
epic read X_X

[3xta]

Originally Posted by Girl

The life of Girl.

So this morning I woke up to the aftermath of what was suppose to be an innocent dinner with the girls to a splitting headache and when I say splitting, I mean it feels as though the frontal and rear lobes were splitting into a dozen pieces. I realized it was a little after 6am and I had a dozen text messages and voicemail messages on my phone.

My girlfriend M had called me on a Wednesday night to invite me for a get together she was planning on Thursday night. Due to M's job and her personal background, she knows practically everybody in Vancouver, from the Marketing Director of a prominent hotel to the guy who can sell you the best semi-automatics. If you knew M and was on her good books, you'd be going to the city's most buzzing events and abiding all the lineups at any club with VIP as well. I grew up with M and trust me when I say she is one of those girls that EVERYONE would like...even the Pope. It's always a yes with her, even if you call her up at 3am to go to LA for a weekend of shopping, she'd be right on it. She's never studied a day in her life and has come out with honors, she is up-to-date with current events, and has to be one of the most diverse conversationists I know. She can out-eat, out-drink, and out-party any single person. Oh and did I mention she was single, easy on the eyes and drives stick?

Anyways I digress. So when M says Girls Night Out, it really means dinner, wine, lots of alcohol in Yaletown, followed by provocative convos and intrigued men approaching us.

Since dinner was so late notice, it was only M, J, and I doing it and a couple of other girls were showing up a little after. The day had been dreary and miserable, I had locked myself out of the office and work had been just absolutely tedious, so needless to say I was not looking forward to dinner. I wasn't really dressed to impress either, wearing a black Alain Manoukian square top cami with a poppy orange BCBG cardigan and black flowy mid-length pants, and flip-flops. YES I wore flip-flops, lets say I like to rebel against work policy and for some reason they seem to put-up with me. But yes I looked sort of like a librarian, especially when I put my glasses on.

I got to M's house and I really didn't look like I should be going out with them. M had on severe stiletto ankle boots with tight skinny denims and a charcoal motorcycle jacket. J, a sweet gorgeous looking girl was sporting a flowy grey v-neck top that cinched at the waist which hugged her rear seductively, dark grey leggings and boots made of raw leather. Her long hair and kitten bangs gave her this innocent yet sensual look. I'm a girl and I have to admit that my girlfriends are HOT.

Anyways we ended up heading downtown, and like I said before had some Tapas with our alcohol, flirted with the waiter, eavesdropped on the couple next to us and once the alcohol was hitting us, the conversations became more and more....entertaining? Emotions were flying, dirty secrets were revealed and it was your ultimate Gossip Girl moment. Our other girl friends met up with us a little later and all I can say is things just got worse from there on. We avoided death maybe 3 times?

Either way I came home, passed out and this morning recieved over 10 messages from different people because you see these girls, except for M whose single, they all have SO's but that doesn't stop them from finding something better, finding extra curricular activities with other people or an excuse to find some flirting time. So there they were admist our drunkeness, they tried to get me to find them a nice, succesful, good looking guy for part-time for full-time uses. They eventually took my phone and made some calls, even some long distance ones. Now my text message inbox is tainted with naughty exchanges, many "WTF's", "i don't do girls with boyfriends", "Girl is this you?" texts and voicemail messages.

So what was suppose to be a quiet dinner, turned into a High School Musical version of Girls Gone Wild. J was invited to some clubbing event tonight...

Girls + Alcohol = Gossip Girl

[chr1s]

nothing nothing nothing

this thred is arr aboud me

[Girl]

"A wise girl kisses, but doesn't love...listens, but doesn't believe...and leaves before getting left" - Marilyn Monroe

[3xta]

dflakgjfdlkjgfdlkja3poipo23riopfkofjdaljfalkjfadlk jf WAHAHAHAHHHWOWOWOWOOWW

[q0192837465]

I'm so freaked out right now

[Not really racist!]

Nice story

[michimaro]

bored as hell

[Girl]

Hey! To the person below me, answer the following questions:
1) What are you doing right now?
2) What are you thinking about right now?
3) What are you craving right now?

[!Nhan]

1) surfing rs/music
2) how i have work in 11 hours
3) a cigarette.

[Inaii]

=o !nhan... you don't happen to be working at the PNE do you?

[unidentified]

Originally Posted by Girl

Hey! To the person below me, answer the following questions:
1) What are you doing right now?
2) What are you thinking about right now?
3) What are you craving right now?

Even though I am not directly below you I will answer this because I am so damn bored.
1. Surfing RevScene/MSN/Editing proposal content for work
2. I'm tired and I really want to leave work but I still have an hour
3. Broccoli and cheese soup. Yum.

[mrclean604]

Originally Posted by Girl

Hey! To the person below me, answer the following questions:
1) What are you doing right now?
2) What are you thinking about right now?
3) What are you craving right now?

I want to answer too!
1) surfing rs, listening to music, watching samurai champloo
2) thinking about what the ex is thinking about
3) a cigaretteeee.