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April 22, 2006


"Don't be silly! We have a GPS!"

(Via Gizmodo)


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Wow what some people are thinking? I still have trouble finding my way home with that stupid lady on the GPS yelling at me. It is the same as my wife and kids.

My sister and her husband ran their brand new Ford Explorer into a 4 foot deep puddle. They THOUGHT they could make it. Of course, they were also on their way home from the Boston Beer Festival.

You know you're in trouble when the tow truck driver has to DIVE under the water to attach the winch to your car.

He pulled them out about 6 feet to dry land. Charged them $300. While they waited for AAA, they went into a bar and drank.

NOT the brightest bulbs.

This is clearly an example of technology playing pranks on humans. The Sat-Nav intelligence is smarter than we are, to wit: "This month motorists were sent to the edge of a 100ft drop on an unclassified road at Crackpot in North Yorkshire."

HAL has returned!

Punkin, they were obviously confident that they would be driving nowhere else that day. ;)

Actually, Guin, once the car was successfully towed, they still had to get home. So they called a cab to take them to Logan Airport where they - wait for it - RENTED A CAR AND DROVE HOME.

Oh....the car was totaled. The insurance company got them another new one. About two weeks later, they came home with Chinese take-out, parked the car out front and went inside to eat. Her hubby remembered he'd left something in the car and went outside. 20 seconds later he walked back in dazed and confused - in the half minute since they'd parked the car, the tree they parked it under fell over and split the car in half.


Best line:
"This month motorists were sent to the edge of a 100ft drop on an unclassified road at Crackpot in North Yorkshire."

Is this where the cracks in the crackpots come from??? That 100 ft. drop will get ya every time.

Oh, oh! AND, my sister calls me right after to tell me about the car, and as we're talking she says "I think I smell gas...what should I do?"

The pipe to her gas stove was leaking, the house filling with gas.

My FIRST instinct was to tell her "Ok, don't flip on any lights....you need to go check the leak, so, light a candle....."

But, alas, I told her to open all the windows and call the fire dept. Which she did. She had also already called the police dept about the tree. Imagine the comedy when both agencies showed up at the same address for two different things.

Welcome to my life.

Need more coffee.

Mrs Bennett’s tumble dryer has been working overtime, helping drivers to dry out.

She's putting drivers in her dryer?

Uh huh, that's what she said.

Caption: Despite warning signs on either side, a driver ploughs through the ford

Dang, my secret's out. This has happened to me 79 times. From now on I'll know to blame it on my GPS system.

Mrs. Bennett said... my husband came home and I had to explain why there was a van driver’s trousers in our tumble dryer. He was sitting in his cab, shivering in his boxer shorts.

Those crazy Brits. Thank you, Dave. Thank you.

brilliant!! i'm going to put signs up at the creek near my house so that i can capture, err, help, unsuspecting motorists of the male variety out of, ummm dry out, their pants!

Crossgirl to soaked motorist, referring to her shop vac: "May I suck the wetness out of you?"

yeah...shop vac.....

ok, some kind of line has been crossed....going back to bed now

*snork* @ crossgirl and Punkin!

"had to explain why there was a van driver’s trousers in our tumble dryer."

I dont think I need to comment on that except to say its very creative, and if the husband bought that line then HE should take a dip in the ford.

... um ... "2ft"? ... "100ft"? ... How much is that in metric?

(I'm not crossin' any of those other lines ... Punkin already did that ...

... Well ... mebbe fer another Punkin' sammich ... (I finally recovered from the last one ... Hi, Punkin' ...)

Hi O.!!!

Didja hear? I'm the New Hampshire State Fruit!

(Doesn't that just explain EVERYTHING?!)

why did the chicken plough across the ford?

to get wet vac'ed on the other side

And why is it not a "fjord"?

Punkin, regarding the family stories you shared... you stay far, far away from these people, right?

Etymology: Middle English, from Old English; akin to Old Norse fjorthr fjord, Latin portus port, Old English faran to go -- more at FARE
: a shallow part of a body of water that may be crossed by wading -

for those who really care

KDF - This is the same sister who:

~ Missed being blown up on the London subway by
15 minutes because she overslept
~ Accidentally "pooped" her pants not once, not
twice, but THREE times in public over the past
20 years.

Yes....I stay far far away....

There's one in every family, but, wow. And, I think I speak for the group when I say you need to expand on bullet # 2.

Punkin' --

Yeah, it explains a LOT ... mebbe not quite all, but I've got a fairly vivid imagination, which -- when coupled with memories of personal experiences, if I can find 'em -- serves to fill in the blanks ... not very neatly, I'll admit, but then, I've always been sorta "enthusiastic" about certain "pastimes" and/or other "unsupervised activities" ... IYCMD ...

(No, "enthusiastic" is not the same as "sloppy" or "messy" ... trust me on this one ... merely ... um ... nevermind ...)


r.e. Punkin's "bullet #2" ... (HAR!!!) ... I'm gonna take a guess and hint that it's prolly similar to the old joke about Grandpa's flatulence, the outdoor privy and the stick of dynamite ... tho I could be mistaken ...

Ok....due to overwhelming demand, I will give you the Reader's Digest version of my sister's, um, sphincter problem. {See previous post}

It all started when my sister, let's call her "Lori" (not her real name....alright,yes it is, stop pressuring me), was in High School. She was in a department store and spotted the cute boy she hoped would go to the Prom with her. Lori sees the cute boy, gets all nervous and after much second guessing decides to ask him out. Cute boy, unfortunately, said "No". Now, here's where I'm not quite sure of the facts. I believe it was right about at "No" that Lori realized she had, um, "soiled" her pants. Whether this occured prior to asking cute boy, and thus the stench eminating from her caboosal area was the ultimate cause of the rejection,(some boys are SO picky!), or whether the sphincter failure was CAUSED by aforementioned rejection, I do not know. But there you have "Incident Number 1" (although, truly, all incidents are really "Number 2", hee hee)

Ok, moving right along...

The next incident occurred about 12 years ago, when, after a particularly violent bout of flu, my sister felt well enough to go out for drinks and dinner with my brother (let's call him "Scott", because that's his name). They went to the "Ground Round" (remember those?) and had a delightful meal - Lori's first in a few days.
After eating, they laughed and joked until all of a sudden, the joking stopped. It seems that in the midst of a gut wrenching chuckle, Lori's gut, uh, wrenched. All over the seat of the booth.
Humiliated, Lori tied her coat around her waist and made a hasty, penguin-waddling exit. But not before she had slid out from the booth, leaving a, um, trail of putridness smeared on the seat. (I don't care HOW much you tip - the waitress ain't gonna like THAT!)

Fast forward to a couple of years ago (and you know, Dear Reader, a thought just crossed my mind. Don't be alarmed. But I have deduced that these episodes of fecal eruption seem to occur at regular ten year intervals - first at age 18, then at age 28, and now at age 38! Perhaps we can study Lori's ass like we study Mt. St. Helens!)
Anyway....a couple of years ago Lori was at a night club in London. She was drinking and dancing and flirting and having a good time. All precursers to you-know-what. Lori is a good dancer, and on this particular night she was feeling all sexy and slinky. She caught the eye of a handsome young man who sauntered over and began to "Lambada" with her. (Apparently, the "Forbidden Dance" is not forbidden in the U.K.) After a few minutes of gyrating with Mr Hottie, my sister noticed that he didn't exactly smell very good. She politely danced away in search of a man who showered. She danced and danced. As she looked around the dance floor, she was quite pleased that an ever-widening circle had formed around her, and people were staring. Presumably at her way-cool moves. After hours of performing for her adoring public, Lori made her way home, where she proceeded to undress for bed. When she removed her pants - out rolled many, ah, "tootsie rolls". The crap flavored variety.

Ya had to ask.

She's once...Twice..Three tiiiimes a lady...
Jebus, that is funny as hell.We'll refer to it ( pooping) as "voiding" from now on...So she had a "voidian slip" in public huh?

OMG, Punkin. Major, gut-twisting *snorks* from line 1 through the end.

Ohhhh.... I may have had an accident.

*snork* @ Punkin Poo!

This is my first post... Punkin's hilarious stories forced me out of blurking!

My brother tells a great story of his girlfriend's sister. We're talking major, world-class, tall, blonde hottie with all the bells and whistles that you boys enjoy.

She went out one night with friends and drank a little too much. Okay, a lot too much. Fortunately, she was with caring people who confiscated her keys and sent her home with someone who lived nearby, in a new house with a brand new white couch available for hot drunken sots. Yes, I said white.

She passed out on the couch and woke up in the morning without a clue where she was. As horrified awareness crept up on her, she realized that she had, at some point during the night, had a Major Accident of the diarrheal variety, whilst unconscious. On the new white couch.

She heard morning stirrings from upstairs, and decided to make a quick exit. She stripped off her pants, de-diarrhead herself as best she could, and fashioned a temporary skirt from a blanket.

And just before bolting, she dealt with the mess on the couch as every houseguest should. She flipped the cushion.

I wonder if she reads the blog?

Hi Lyndee! Glad you de-blurked!

Oh man, Punkin, we've brought the blog to a new low.

*wonders what happened to her discretion*

Punkin' that was HILARIOUS!! I laughed till I cried.

*waves hello to Lyndee*

Hi Lyndee! Gee, I've never "deblurked" anybody before! Feels good!

*Checks cushions on couch*

Punkin Poo - oh my goodness, what a wacky sister. She actually bought a FORD?!!! Ok, really, hilarious stories...I guess the 2nd part of your name is in your sister's honor.

*snork* @ Punkin for "caboosal area".

Re: clueless motorists in Britain-- prats ford upon Avon?

That was too funny Punkin! Though the poo on the end of your name seems more appropriate for your sister.

Im ALWAYS amazed at how far from the thread the comments go here. Punkin POO, I dont even wanna guess if youre sister's "slips" are a familial trait...Thanks to your picturesque meanderings, I know I have met your sister- when I used to bus tables at The Ground Round.

Punkin! You didn't warn me that I'd have to put on my Depends before reading this thread!

MAJOR SNORKS (and maybe just a leetle bit of seepage)

Thank you, thank you.

I wish I could take credit with for dreaming up such familial hilarity - but, unfortunately, it's all true.

MoFaux - I'm beginning to think my family has a glitch on the sphincter control gene. My son has issues, too... I don't want to take up tons of Dave's bandwith, but if enough folks request, I will post.

Oh, come on, Punkin. Don't make us beg!

Punkin', does your sister's nose work? Could she not smell it even when no one was around her? Or feel it? I can't believe she didn't notice!!

a little alliteration goes a long little way...

Ok. I love my boy. He's 23 and has grown up to be just like me - a basket case.
He told me a very personal, intimate story yesterday that had me peeing my pants. So, of course, I have to post it in the blog. (I figure if I'm gonna pay for therapy for him, might as well get my money's worth!) So here goes....


Ever since Josh was a toddler, he has had an aversion to, ah, "pooping" in a public bathroom. He is very uncomfortable that he might be, um, overheard in the performance of this duty. (Hehehe, I said "duty"...) So for as long as I can remember, Josh has "held it" all day in school and rushed home at the end of the day to his "comfort zone".
Well, recently Josh travelled to visit his girlfriend at her college (I won't say which one, but it rhymes with "Pode Filand Tool of Resign")
At 3 o'clock in the morning, Josh realized that he wasn't going to be able to contain his cargo any longer, and decided to go to the men's bathroom, 2 floors down. Lest his girlfriend's roommate "get wind" of his true destination (a possibility becoming more real by the minute), Josh casually sauntered out of the room, kind of whistling a happy tune, and then bolted for the stairwell.
Colleges are strange little places with a culture all their own, so at 3 in the morning, who did he immediately encounter in the stairwell but a gaggle of freshmen girls shaving the head of a freshman boy.
Josh, being in a state of near panic at the thought of being "detected" was SURE they all could tell where he was going and why. He dashed away - eyes following, he was certain - and stealthily (sp?) dove into the men's room.

There were 5 stalls. The first one was eliminated immediately - too close to the entrance. The second had a bowl full of brown liquid - nope. The third was clean, but the gap around the door seam was over a quarter inch wide - someone might see - rejected. Upon opening the fourth stall, Josh was greeted by a little brown mouse sitting on the toilet tank - covered in sh*t. The mouse stared him down as if to say "Hey, I'm not afraid of you. I'm covered in sh*t for God's sake".
Off to stall number 5. The situation was becoming extreme. Josh quickly took in the scene - no door gap, good. Bowl empty, great. No sh*tty mice, wonderful, and, oh good - low level of bowl water! This apparently is a good thing, for although your droppings might cling to the dry bowl sides, the low water level reduces the chance of noisey and uncomfortable "splash-back". (I've learned so much this week!)

So stall number five it was. As he made himself comfortable (as comfortable as a delusional, paranoid bi-polar basket case CAN be), he believes he heard, from it seemed, right outside the stall door, the faint sound of whispering..."He's in there right now...he's pooping...listen...it's him..." (He swears he did not do drugs or drink of any kind) This, of course, made his sphincter slam shut like a watertight submarine door!

But after a few minutes, gravity took over and Josh completed his mission.

However - just as he stood to buckle his pants, he got a good look at the inside of the stall door, and there, CARVED into it in big letters was the sentence "Josh took a sh*t here".


He just about burst into tears and fled the scene.

He swears it said that on the door.... maybe we can get Paxil in a 55 gallon family-sized drum....

Punkin, I'm not sure 55 gallons is enough. :-) Your poor family!

Poor Josh! He suffers from Poop Shame, something that apparently afflicts many, many women (who knew?)

Ooooooooh ... POO!!!


Tnx 4 the laffs, Sugar ...

but it rhymes with "Pode Filand Tool of Resign"


And yes, let's hope your dear, paranoid son, who knows he can trust his mother with his life and most shameful secrets, does NOT have an urge to check out today's postings in Dave Barry's blog.


And a mouse covered in sh!t? Time to up the anti-hallucinogens!

I'm trying to decide which is scariest:

The story itself, or
The fact that he told his mother the story, or
The fact that his mother just shared the story with the entire Internet-reading world.

hee hee

When I was in Boy Scouts I was taught to not leave a trace. And people said that being seen pooing is bad. So in suburbia I have become the Ninja Pooer. It takes a lot of stealth and work, nobody can know I am in the room pooing away, but they can't open my stall and see me.

I got over it, but I am not wondering, what would have happened if I realized that some one else realized that I was pooing.

It was pretty easy to get over. The bathrooms in the Missionary TRaining Center where stalls. I couldn't leave just to find a bathroom. Didn't ask either. My roomates where weird.

"Hey, my name is Steve."
"Have any magazines? I think this one might take a while."
"Uh here"

After 3 weeks of that, I got over it.


In Grade school we had a golf course right next to our play ground. The only thing between us was a chain link fence. It stood about 8 feet high.

Every Friday was popcorn day, it cost a quarter. To get this quarter, we would wait for golfers to send a ball over the fence. There would be this little fight, and then I would sell the ball for a quarter. We where quite the good kids. Grabbing falling golf balls and selling them.

Years later I realize that the school needed a lot more trees. The problem was, they would fall down every March. So we where completely open to falling golf balls.

This is bringing out so many stories. I apologise.

Alfred, *SNORK*!

*hands Alfred his meds*

Alfred ~ See what happens when you open those floodgates?????

*shares portion of 55 gallon drum w/ Alfred*

Oh! I just thought of this.....


Hey Alfred ~ Having a little verbal diarrhea?!

(It's ok...it's going around)

Ahhhhh....I kill me....

I have a poo story to share as well...my poor dad was in major distress and entered a mens' room somewhere in Europe (toilets in Europe are in a class by themselves anyhow). The door to every stall was closed and locked but no one was in any of the stalls...............

*Twilight Zone theme starts to play*

so my dad actually had to crawl on his belly under the door of one of the stalls. When all was said and done, he was able to unlock the stall door and get out

Mr. Barry, Tear down this blog!

punkin poo - vf on the 'cow island' thread. I just realized today is green arbor garden day or something, so it's only natural to talk about doodoo. Hoo, hoo!

MoFaux - icky bin hiney doo-doo.

*zips in*

My daughter tells me gross stories, not only about herself and her "incidents" but also her husband's which I can't believe he'd be very happy to know. Her stories are not up to the level of Punkin's sis, but they seem to be moving in that direction.
So Renee, to answer your second remark, I have no clue why people who do this kind of thing have the need to share the info.

Speaking just for myself, there are probably 1000 things my daughter has told me (not all "poo" related) that I would have been just as happy not to know.

I'll just give one example from back when she was single:
So Mom, he asked, want to get naked and go in the hot tub, and I said why not, so we did.

Is today "Earth Day?" Dang if I know, but Annie's right, it's an appropriate day to talk about doodoo hoohoo with punkin poo-ooo. On what other blog could you go from GPS to poo?

Green Acres is the place for me

Darling I love you but give me Fifth Avenue.

Yeah Ninja Stealth Pooing is probably common. We live in such a society that it seems uncivilized to poo. So Stealth pooers think it is unnatural.

It is said that Howard Hughes could have any woman he wanted. But he never called for fear of Germs.

That must be T-Shirt. Ninja Stealth Poo.

Eleanor~ Yeah, the hot tub story is okay...but would play better in this arena if it had ended with something "floating".

Yes, please help. I am a sick, sick woman...

I had a very funny story involving my daughter, her brand-new car, and a passenger with a serious lack of inhibitions and a bad case of total denial, but I decided we're already in way too deep.

*Drive up tanker truck full of Kaopectate; empties it into blog; drives away feeling she's made at least a small contribution toward elevating the tone of public discourse*

I used to have to crawl under doors to get in some public restrooms, too, but have since become very paranoid about germs of any sort - not doing that unless truly desparate!!!

If people are ignoring the warning signs, why don't they just put up a barrier of some sort?

Bumble, cause that would spoil all of Mrs. Bennett's trouser drying fun!

Bumble - Which topic in this thread were you referring to, cuz I think it covers both.

No matter how high, or great the Throne
What sits on it is the same as your own.

(E.Y. Harburg)

Punkin' - The "technical" name for that problem is logorrhea ... merely sayin' ... (I have it too, at times ... so ... merely sayin', not criticizin' ...)

Old joke:

Didja know that the Limbo was invented by a Scotsman tryin' to get into a pay toilet?

Punkin~ The one in the article; I didn't read the whole thread.


You &mdash or someone &mdash related an identical story (about Josh) on a blog some time ago (maybe two or three months ago) but said here it happened "yesterday". So what's up with the discrepancy?

I got nuthin'.
(Thank God!)

(Well, OK, serious SNORKage - and sympathies - for the Poo Chronicles and others' tales of Whoa!)

Eric...my personal guess would be 'copy and paste' -- why rewrite what's been writ before?! :)

I remember going and locking each of the doors to the stalls in elementary school to make sure people had to crawl under to get at the toilets. I had a rather sadistic streak as a small child.

Memo to self:

Don't get too friendly with almne. :)

almne -

That wuz the trick that was played when we moved into the NEW school (the OLD school din't have doors on the stalls) ... wuz that you that did those things?

....and then there was the Saran wrap...

Y'know, I was just thinking about all the hi-larity we used to get involved in as children. If we did it now, we'd all be packed off the Behaviorial Modification Intervention and Boot Camp, and our parents would be jailed for Aggravated Raising of Imperfect Children. Sigh.

*goes to find some sugarless cavity-prevention and digestion-enhancing herbal vitamin gum to chew so she can stick it under her desktop just for old time's sake*

I just got Milton Berles Personal Joke file a great collection of jokes. Have been trying to find an appropriate one for the poo. But can't seem to find one.

Being a tall person has its weirdness. There have been times where I could see perfectly over the door. So I always Climb over. Its just faster.

What I want to know is why these people couldn't see and avoid the water ahead of time?

I mean it's foolish to blame it on the navigation system. Obviously it isn't going to know about local floods. If you deliberately try to drive through standing water, you are responsible for what happens. Most navigation systems allow you to specify a detour. They rely on you to figure out when one is necessary!

I do wonder what these people do when they encounter detours: bridge out, etc.

Oh, Eric......

Eric - I simply cut & pasted to post here.

Before GPS:

Alice: Why is water rising all around the car?

Bob: We just drove into a creek.

Alice: The map said that this road goes through!

After GPS:

Alice Why is water rising all around the car?

Bob: We just drove into a creek.

Alice: The GPS just told us that this road goes through!

Anybody see a connection here?

Yes I do! Once again we have proof positive that common sense it not very common. Like lemmings I would say.

I have requested a Boy Band Love Song from this guy.

The major words are,
"....and then there was the Saran wrap..."

LEts see if he posts it.

"Ninja Stealth Poo"

Yep, I want me a shirt like this! Hilarious! HAA! That's great!

Done laughing, going to bed now, Thank You Dave's Blog, I love this place :)

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