What's the etiquette here??

padd b1975

Ush1 wrote: »

Reminds me of a time in my early 20s when dance music and drugs were the order of the day. Had ended up back at someone's house after a weekender. Was the next morning and one of the lads was feeling the ill effects, scagging and just rolled out of bed and asked one of the lads for a drink. Said lad went and shat into a McDonald's cup, put the lid back on and put a straw in it then came back and handed it to the other fella.

He knew something wasn't right by the weight and heat of the cup, he opened it and set eyes on the fresh log and then looked back up at the fella who just said "drink up". Straight faced.

You just can't get away with such light-hearted capers these days what with all the health and safety regulations and gimps getting triggered.

Utter Consternation

padd b1975 wrote: »

You just can't get away with such light-hearted capers these days what with all the health and safety regulations and gimps getting triggered.

Some fcuking jackass killjoy wearing a hi-vis with a clipboard out to ruin everyones fun.

I was at a party years ago in a house belonging to an acquaintance of a friend. His parents were fairly loaded and they'd a massive gaff. I crashed on the couch and woke in the early morning wanting to take a massive piss. The fcuking house was a maze and could i fcuk find the jacks.

I filled what looked like a ming vase full to the brim with piss and left it back up on a bookshelf.

Poor form, but i couldn't even get the blasting windows open in order to fire the piss out.

partyguinness

Utter Consternation wrote: »

I filled what looked like a ming vase full to the brim with piss and left it back up on a bookshelf.

Poor form, but i couldn't even get the blasting windows open in order to fire the piss out.

We are not here to judge..

Reminds me of the morning I drank 3/4's of a pint of my own piss before heading into work..:o

Had been out on a mid week lash and before heading to bed I would always bring a pint glass of water to bed with me as anyone would do. On this particular occasion the following morning all fuzzy headed and running late I grabbed the pint glass in the bedroom which was full of clear liquid and I guzzled down most of it and ran out the door to work. No time for breakfast.

Now at work I had this little nagging feeling as I was piecing the night together. Whatever had happened I did not recall getting a pint glass of water before bed.

Sure enough that evening went straight up to my room and the 'clear' glass of liquid had an unmistakably hue of kidney filtered Guinness.

As the toilets were downstairs I must have go up during the night and emptied into the pint glass and promptly knocked back most it in the morning.

Brendan Bendar

EmmetSpiceland wrote: »

If you’re really worried about leaving a “nasty smell” you should carry around a book of matches. They fit nicely into any suit pocket and can dispel any foul odour without too much fuss.

Just be careful with the disposing of the spent matches.

Good for rooting the cheese out from under the helmet too.

Brendan Bendar

Hector Savage wrote: »

Johnny you're giving me ideas!!

Forget them ,most public cisterns are recessed now due security.

Private house parties,if you have been insulted by any of the owners,or even if you have not, spool a thick buttery log into a towel, roll the lot up and bury in the very back of the hot press.

Should be a week before they call the exterminators, about three days in Winter.

That’ll teach ‘em.

Sonny noggs

Brendan Bendar wrote: »

Forget them ,most public cisterns are recessed now due security.

Private house parties,if you have been insulted by any of the owners,or even if you have not, spool a thick buttery log into a towel, roll the lot up and bury in the very back of the hot press.

Should be a week before they call the exterminators, about three days in Winter.

That’ll teach ‘em.

Yeah, that’ll learn them not to let scumbags into the gaff!

Doctors room ghost

I remember when I was around 18 or so I had a job as a cleaner in a hospital.summer job kind of thing.working one day and a big long corridor in the floor I was on.
Whatever way I looked down the already cleaned corridor I thought I could see small piles of leaves left along it.
That’s strange says I and it summer.no leaves be fell yet.
Went up to said leaves to investigate and almost dropped with shock. The leaves were no other then little piles of sh1te that someone had shat out on the corridor as they walked along it.they must have Shawshanked the piles out the trouser leg as they walked.
Went up with the ward manager and says to her come out here and look what some fcukin animal did here for fcuk sake.had to be a human cos no way a dog or cat got in there and even if it did it wouldn’t sh1te that much.
I had to clean up all that sh1te.not a task I would like to perform again let me add.
Double gloved and catching piles of sh1te with an incosheet while bagging the fcuker and trying not to vomit while the sh1te asassin probably sat nearby watching.mop the place again after and spent the rest of the day wondering who it was and was it an accident by an old person or was it an act by a weirdo

tgdaly

Had a lovely dinner last night but really paid for it this morning.

Woke up feeling mostly fine, straight into the bathroom to get ready. Only thing I noticed was that I was suffering from the medical condition known as "Onion fart syndrome". Let out a nice long string of them. However after one too many I nearly had a bolter from the gate so to speak, I realised that there was significant motion in the ocean, and a "humunga dunga" wouldn't be too far away. However I was a bit stuck for time getting to work, and knew I'd have a chance once I got it to take care of business, so not seeming to urgent I went on my way.

How wrong was I. Not 5 minutes out the door and I was goose stepping it. Felt like I was trying to hold back the Kraken. Was tempted to release the gas valve to lower the pressure, but couldn't risk bursting the dam, so had to hold it in for the 30-40 remaining minutes of my journey. The sweat were bad, and not just because of the warm weather.

Got there, clocked myself in and straight to the jacks. My jocks were barely down and cheeks barely on the seat, and the torpedo was fired. I say torpedo, but what was released was more like somebody emptying a bucket of fish guts on a boat: woeful smell, lumpy, slimy and not much fun "mopping the deck" after. The relief however, was something else

gerrybbadd

Similiar experience myself this morning. Had a few chips, sausages and Super Valu's BBQ ribs for the dinner last night. They were grand at the time, but by fúck.

Woke up this morning, general enough, few aul farts here and there. Went into the room to let one rip at the dog, and felt a liquid heat. The bar has been set for the day.

Into the jacks the second i got into work. What emerged was akin to a fully loaded fire fighting helicopter, dumping water onto a burning forest. I thought i'd be dropping Cosby's kids off to the pool, and i guess i was, but those kids were horribly liquidised in some form of industrial machinery accident.

The wiping was no craic either. Oily. I'm blaming them ribs

Former Observer

Reading these stories about poor awl lads squatting five feet away from photocopiers, watercoolers, coffee machines and the workstations of other colleagues, with only a couple centimetres of balsa wood and a flimsy half-barn door for privacy makes me realise how lucky I am. There are approximately thirty locations where I can choose to drop rope in my job with a variety of options: The Deep State locations, with 100% hermetically sealed antechambers in a concrete foyer, the series of individual private-access bathrooms with their own sinks, hand-dryers, mirrors and soap dispensers, or the Quick-Drop plastic laminate stalls. There are also a generous number of handicapped restrooms.

Been eating nothing but chickpeas for the last three days. Chite is very mealy as a result.

Hector Savage

I have been debating whether to post this story but after reading one of the above I have decided to.
It was the summer of 1999, I went to Cape Cod with some friends that got a J1 visa, I didn't bother with all that legal sh1te, I just mosied on over as a tourist and got a cash in hand job at a gas station - best job in my life - and I mean that.
I loved going in, the American customers LOVED me, they couldn't get enough of my accent, the co workers were sound - some amount of craic everyday at work.
The boss was sound, he used to let me have beers during work - so long as I didn't get pissed, but was so nice knocking back a cold budweiser (yes piss I know but back when I was a naive 21 year old .... ) in the hot weather (and it was a bloody hot humid summer) while working in the station.
"Work" was pumping gas, so not taxing or physically demanding at all, epecially the 2-10 shift.

Evenings we would get a few cases of beers and head to whatever house parties were on, the place was full of Irish so everynight there was stuff going on.

It was an awakening for me, I felt I was king of America, I was 21 - I was scoring lots - unusual for me when I was young, it was a wonderful wonderful wonderful time.
I had my whole life ahead of me.
Anyway, I'm getting a little misty eyed thinking of this fantastic summer 20 years ago.

One night we were drinking like mad lunatics, we were having some competition - over at another Irish gaff, some lad from Kilkenny won by drinking upwards of 20 cans - savage drinker.
I had almost the same and was in some state.
I headed off home on my bike and the gas station was on the way back - closed at that hour, but there was a drinks machine there.

I stopped for a coke and the rest of the night is quite blurry.

Next day a Sunday I was on 2-10, so I could lie on and minimise my hangover, next day around noon I got up feeling rough, and I had a terrible slight memory of sh1tting outdoors.

Other Irish who I lived with told me I seemed very drunk last night, I came in and just left again, was in the garden for a few minutes and came back.
The fear gripped me, Did I sh1t outside in the fecking garden and if so who saw me ?
Went outside and did a recon of the area - nothing.
Relief washed over me, I must have dreamt it.

Double checked around the back of the house too - still nothing .... phew.
Headed into work, the other lad clocked off, and I sat down for a nice peaceful afterboon ahead - the Sunday 2-10 was usually an easy shift.
Then all of a sudden memories flashed in my mind, the tyre yard ... around the back.
Fear and panic gripped me, slowly I started to walk toward the tyre yard - just knowing what was waiting for me .... turned the corner and there baking in the noon july sunshine was an amazingly round pile of midden - looked more like a cow sh1te to be honest.

Luckily there was noting on tyres or equipment.
So pulled my sleeves up , put some disposable gloves,got a cardboard box out and scooped it in, ****ing rank once the crusty surface was broken and the molten yobble inside was exposed - ****ing toxic stuff, the evening before's steak,potatoes, and ~20 cans of cheap blue ribbon beer piss...
the nose hairs were stripped and the eyes were watering.

Gave the area a little hosing down and was chucking to myself as I threw the box into the dumpster - I mean at least it was my own right ? jaysus ... could you IMAGINE having to do that with someone elses sh1te I thought .... ha ha ha!


Had an easy afternoon, was sitting in the sun a bit and only a few cars per hour would stop, easy day and the hangover was beginning to clear - I was allready looking forward to knocking off at 10 and heading down to the off licence for that night's session.

A red pickup truck stops by, some f-cker asks for the keys to the jacks, I gave it to him thinking nothing of it , it happens and then they usually get their petrol.
Few minutes later I see him speeding off, he didn't even return the keys, I knew something was up , went around to the jacks and he left the keys in the door lock, pushed the door open dreading what I'd see and there on the floor was 3 or 4 chunks of chod.
F*cking sick c*nt ... never got the motivation of people that do that !
Guy must have had a grudge against my boss or something.
Didn't wanna leave it there, so I gloved up again, this time I made a makeshift mask, but it was f-cking vile, when it's someone else's it's just f-cking disgusting, would not wish it on my worst enemy.

What a day for it to happen, literally a SH!T day!!!

Rest of the summer in that place was grand, no other occurences like that, it was almost karma punishing me for sh1tting in the tyre yard! - which I cleaned anyway, so .. a strange day for sure.



===================

TL;DR - I had to clean up two messes in one day ...

Former Observer

Hector Savage wrote: »

but was so nice
So pulled my sleeves up , put some disposable gloves,got a cardboard box out and scooped it in, ****ing rank once the crusty surface was broken and the molten yobble

I'd say yer man was passing by and saw you cleaning up loaf numero uno with your bare hands earlier in the day and got a sick kick out of it. Once he's finished the morning school run and eaten an egg and bacon panini whilst skimming the free ads he's started to imagine your freckly white hands scooping up his own nest of worms, so he's driven back and asked you for the keys before taking one last look at the lad that's going to be pinching his oatmeal custard in the next half hour. Did you ever see him again? Sounds like the type of guy that would return to the scene of the crime. That's how I see it anyway. Too much of a coincidence otherwise.

Hotblack Desiato

tgdaly wrote: »

Had a lovely dinner last night but really paid for it this morning.

Got there, clocked myself in and straight to the jacks. My jocks were barely down and cheeks barely on the seat, and the torpedo was fired. I say torpedo, but what was released was more like somebody emptying a bucket of fish guts on a boat: woeful smell, lumpy, slimy and not much fun "mopping the deck" after. The relief however, was something else

Janey mac, what was it you were eating?

Nothing worse though than getting the contractions and feeling a turdbaby crowning when you have two minutes to leave the house for work and you know the paperwork alone is going to take at least that long. The delivery itself may be relatively smooth, but endless wipe is guaranteed when you're under time pressure.

Boom_Bap

JohnnyFlash

Not getting enough fibre is mostly certainly an issue for lots of people these days. All those fitness fanatics with their low carb diets, and strict no bread policy. I’d say they are squirting out a black treacle like substance or are severely ‘bound up’. Must be why most of them appear to be such miserable people.

Utter Consternation

JohnnyFlash wrote: »

Not getting enough fibre is mostly certainly an issue for lots of people these days. All those fitness fanatics with their low carb diets, and strict no bread policy. I’d say they are squirting out a black treacle like substance or are severely ‘bound up’. Must be why most of them appear to be such miserable people.

Self inflicted misery to shave one eight of a second off your personal best for running a fcuking marathon.

No thanks. I'll drink a few pints and drop a few decent logs.

Boom_Bap

I'd love to hear tales from people who drink those Fit Teas that the influencers peddle.


That stuff that will scrape the tar from the back end of your sphincter and rush it out liker Usain Bolt off the starting blocks.

tgdaly

Hotblack Desiato wrote: »

Janey mac, what was it you were eating?

Nothing worse though than getting the contractions and feeling a turdbaby crowning when you have two minutes to leave the house for work and you know the paperwork alone is going to take at least that long. The delivery itself may be relatively smooth, but endless wipe is guaranteed when you're under time pressure.

Bit of an odd one, because it was only steak and chips and onions, which I've had a million times before. Only thing I can think is the onions were a deep fried in batter sort of thing as opposed to the usual pan fried, so maybe they just didn't mix right in the aul stomach

Aglomerado

Boom_Bap wrote: »

I'd love to hear tales from people who drink those Fit Teas that the influencers peddle.


That stuff that will scrape the tar from the back end of your sphincter and rush it out liker Usain Bolt off the starting blocks.

I'd say their balloon knots are glowing in the dark like smelly beacons of shyte.

partyguinness

Oh Christ I had a flash back. Dublin summer '04. I drove some unbelievable sessions as I was on a course for a few weeks. Celtic Tiger was in full pomp good times all round.

One evening a few of us started drinking 3pm on a Wednesday, went into town to watch some Euro 2004 game, hit the town to all the usual haunts until 4am (does the Viper Room still exist?) and then house party to 6.30am. Left in daylight and then to an early house along the quays and drank all day and eventually made my way home around midnight on the Thursday.

As I was living near Benburb St I was approached by a lady of the night. Ok a skanky street hooker and in the state of mind I was in I was in no state to refuse- seemed like a natural way to finish off the session. We went off to some derelict piece of ground around some dodgy council estate- the type of place that you see on the news cordoned off by the guards when they find another gangland shooting.

Anyway, it was cold and I was struggling to perform. Then she goes 'Hold on'. She steps aside 4-5 feet, pulls down her underwear, squats and has a massive dump right there in front of me with a few farts thrown in. Thankfully it was too dark to get a full view. I should point out that this was not an extra I was paying for.

It was a sobering moment and that was it for me. She got sick of waiting for me to 'perform' and she ****ed off. Then I promptly had a lay my own cable and after 2 days of beering it was like a cow pat. That was a low point.

Doctors room ghost

Sweet corn is a strange one.its the same coming out as it was going in.
I don’t think the fcuker breaks down at all.
Manys the septic tank I emptied down the years and one thing that’s guaranteed is there will be sweet corn bobbing around in it when you take off the lid.
I wonder if you just ate sweet corn for a couple of days what would you produce.that would be a good experiment for the myth busters

Former Observer

Doctors room ghost wrote: »

Sweet corn is a strange one.its the same coming out as it was going in.
I don’t think the fcuker breaks down at all.
Manys the septic tank I emptied down the years and one thing that’s guaranteed is there will be sweet corn bobbing around in it when you take off the lid.
I wonder if you just ate sweet corn for a couple of days what would you produce.that would be a good experiment for the myth busters

Corn on the Log I call it.

partyguinness

Doctors room ghost wrote: »

Sweet corn is a strange one.its the same coming out as it was going in.
I don’t think the fcuker breaks down at all.
Manys the septic tank I emptied down the years and one thing that’s guaranteed is there will be sweet corn bobbing around in it when you take off the lid.
I wonder if you just ate sweet corn for a couple of days what would you produce.that would be a good experiment for the myth busters

1. You will be very hungry
2. You will lose weight
3. You would definitely need to take yourself off to some remote archipelago due to the noise pollution. Away from civilisation.
4. Imagine all the floaters with that corn bobbing around? You will never get it down. In fact it might be best avoiding a toilet completely. Any arsehole pub landlords you wish to annoy?

I would consider weaponising it. Could the explosive nature self clean the toilet?

Voodoomelon

Hector Savage wrote: »

I have been debating whether to post this story but after reading one of the above I have decided to.

I've a similar story but its worse, give me a few days to ponder whether I post it or not.

Borderfox

One of the guys in work (no neck, no ankles. Heavy set type) used to drop a depth charge after two breakfast rolls on a Saturday. I would find footprints on the seat just after him too along with enormous skidmarks and a smell that would rival Chernobyl in terms of danger.

Not small breakfast rolls either but the large Ballyfermot types that they spread the pudding on with a knife, fresh cooked eggs and a heap of sausages and rashers (not bacon)

Utter Consternation

Borderfox wrote: »

One of the guys in work (no neck, no ankles. Heavy set type) used to drop a depth charge after two breakfast rolls on a Saturday. I would find footprints on the seat just after him too along with enormous skidmarks and a smell that would rival Chernobyl in terms of danger.

Not small breakfast rolls either but the large Ballyfermot types that they spread the pudding on with a knife, fresh cooked eggs and a heap of sausages and rashers (not bacon)

Does the job involve physical labour? You find lads like that drop dead the minute they finish up work. The bit of exercise keeps them going, but the head gasket goes very shortly after stopping work.

Former Observer

Utter Consternation wrote: »

Does the job involve physical labour?

Sounds like he is in labour every day.

Aglomerado

In my job there's a small jax off the main office floor. One for men and one for women, accessible through the same door. Unfortunately my desk is near it.

Thank f^ck there are two doors between my desk and the chod bins, the amount of traffic in there is unreal, the door flaps f^cking constantly.

I can always tell when someone's going for a depth charge, especially in the men's. Routine like this:

Male civil servant stands up, walks to jacks door. Presumably crop dusting as he goes. Sound of toilet seat hitting porcelain that I can hear from my desk as he prepares to open the bomb bay doors.

A good ten minutes later he emerges satisfied that he's unleashed hell all over the bowl. In the mean time 10 other male civil servants with twitching balloon knots will.have tried the door. F*cking unreal. The doors protect against the smell so it's not bad that way.

I don't like colleagues knowing that I'm about to release a scud missile down the u bend. So I walk further out to the main bog block that sees a fraction of the traffic and I have a choice of 4 sparkling bowls. Luxury.

Utter Consternation

Aglomerado wrote: »

In my job there's a small jax off the main office floor. One for men and one for women, accessible through the same door. Unfortunately my desk is near it.

Thank f^ck there are two doors between my desk and the chod bins, the amount of traffic in there is unreal, the door flaps f^cking constantly.

I can always tell when someone's going for a depth charge, especially in the men's. Routine like this:

Male civil servant stands up, walks to jacks door. Presumably crop dusting as he goes. Sound of toilet seat hitting porcelain that I can hear from my desk as he prepares to open the bomb bay doors.

A good ten minutes later he emerges satisfied that he's unleashed hell all over the bowl. In the mean time 10 other male civil servants with twitching balloon knots will.have tried the door. F*cking unreal. The doors protect against the smell so it's not bad that way.

I don't like colleagues knowing that I'm about to release a scud missile down the u bend. So I walk further out to the main bog block that sees a fraction of the traffic and I have a choice of 4 sparkling bowls. Luxury.

You should have a chess clock on your desk. Give it a slap every time someone walks by. Make them paranoid that you're timing them.

No one likes taking a dump under pressure.

Aglomerado

Utter Consternation wrote: »

You should have a chess clock on your desk. Give it a slap every time someone walks by. Make them paranoid that you're timing them.

No one likes taking a dump under pressure.

I could keep Sh1tistical tables! I'll put it on my PooMDS.