Today, as I drove to work in bright sunshine under clear blue skies, my windshield was pelted with droplets. This would be merely unusual and not cause for a face of horror and concern were I not driving directly behind a Honey Bucket truck.
The name Honey Bucket alone in reference to a port-a potty makes me want to (a)retch and (b)never consume honey again.
Suddenly, Winnie the Pooh makes sense.
AND IS SO GROSS.
Punchline goes:
“Winnie the Shit”
Re: Punchline goes:
I figure ‘the pooh’ is a nickname bestowed on him due to his penchant and constant cravings for feces.
OH.GOD.
I KNOW RITE? That marks 2 shit incidents in as many days. I can’t even bring myself to post about the first one, just thinking about it makes me want to throw up.
You so have to post it now. Don’t make me imagine things more gross than honey pot splatter.
Where to begin?
Not last night, but the night before, Napoleon woke me up approximately every hour or so with apparently a very urgent need to go outside. Each time I would groan, clip his leash on, and shuffle outside. And each and every time, he would refuse to use nature’s toilet, and instead act like he tricked me into taking him on a (1am, 2am, 3am, 4am) walk. By 4, I stomped back inside, tired and irritable, flung my shoes off, and decided to go to the bathroom myself before trying to get to sleep. I finished my business, stepped into my dark room and
squish.
ifthereisagodinyourinfinitemercypleasetellmethatIdidnotjuststepinwhatIthinkIjuststeppedinandthatitisjustahallucinationfromtoolittlesleepand…
I flipped the light on.
There is no god.
The dog shit EVERYWHERE. Like a veritable shit machine. Only it was like he exploded. And I, with the full force of one of my angry 4am Tyrannasaur steps, had just ground some of it into the carpet with my bare foot.
The carpet has been cleaned. My foot? Has been scrubbed repeatedly, but when I think about it, I still feel it there, and it makes me want to vomit or amputate the foot.
There are two reasons why I will never own another pet.
You have just stumbled upon reason number 2.
It was really much more of a stomp than a stumble.
:cringe:
I have no words, except, ick.
But unfortunately, that has also happened to me.
He seemed very excited when I asked him if he wanted to go to the P-O-U-N-D.
Sounds horrific!
My dad used to be a construction foreman, and would get all types of (and I quote) “Really nice swag”
a: can’t call it swag unless it’s nice
2: honey bucket hats aren’t “really nice” by any stretch of imagination.
d: stfu, dad.
hahah I’m pretty sure anyone wearing a honeybucket hat can automatically be called a shithead.
HAHAHAHAH!!!!
The funny part is when I found them lying around in the basement, the ‘mesh back trucker hat’ look was in, and I sold them to frat guys who were trying to be ironic.
I approve. The less disposable income those frat guys have, the better.
Those guys made a LOT of money under the table in the late 80s, when everyone had a beeper. All of the beepers had “please send back to [name of pager service]” and you’d get around $50 a pager.
yeah. We never saw any of it though. He squandered all his secret money, and all his legit money on coke and his mistress..
yaaaaaaaayyyy childhood!
I hope it was original formula coke, and not Coke II.
actually, it was crystal pepsi. I was just embarrassed.
GET OUT OF MY BRAIN.
HAHAHAHA… this is why i luh you
I was hoping he’d blown the wad on Crystal (meth) Pepsi, myself.
OH! partially relevant story:
My cousin phil is pretty far fucked himself as far as drugs go. (He has cameras mounted and facing his doorway at his apt.)
At thanksgibbins, he said he’d been “digging crystals” in the woods in Sandpoint, Idaho when he’d heard Sasquatch.
Then proceeded to shriek in demonstration of the beast’s noise. Now, i’m a believer… but screaming “oooh Oooh eee eeee, ooh ooh, aah aah” and explaining how PNW’s big foot has a different dialect than california’s… that’s just… too much.
‘(He has cameras mounted and facing his doorway at his apt.)’
As in, cameras that he mounted in order to see who is coming to his door, or cameras law enforcement mounted to watch him?
I’m so sad that the weekly world news isn’t printed anymore, otherwise they could totally interview Phil. 🙁
So’s he can duck out the back in case the fuzz stops by on one of their “random” checks.
I heard drugs make you paranoid, but this is ridiculous!
If the cops drop by his place that often for ‘random’ checks, I would imagine it’s just a matter of time before they pick him up.
Oh…. he’s been picked up. And incarcerated. And this and that… and he has an indian (feathers, not dots) girlfriend/common law wife who gets checks from the government for her people or something… Yeah, the money goes to meth and weed and coke more often than not.
best avatar evAR.
http://www.jibjab.com/view/178803
hahaha!
also: ewwwww
also: hahahaha!
are you serious? that’s the name of the port-a-potty?
i am so disgusted, wildly amused right now.
I couldn’t believe it myself when I first moved here. They call them WHAT? EWWWW.
There’s also a porta-john company called Wizards of Ooze! I went to a festival up in Mt. Vernon a few years ago with some friends, and as we walked down the street, we all kept smelling this really, really lovely smell. Like a really pretty potpourri or something, and we couldn’t figure out what it was. Eventually we all had to whizz, so we stopped at the porta-johns and lo and behold! It was the smell of that blue liquid they put in the potty to neutralize the smell.
I can’t even begin to tell you how delighted I am that picture is indexed under ‘crapola’.
I know, my nomenclature is awesome like that.
Fun SAT question: Your dog is to shit what my cat is to
A. Your dog
B. What?
C. Don’t care
The answer: none of the above. It’s vomit.
I don’t call Pete the “Earl of Hurl” for nothing. Puhleeeze let hairball season end!
I believe that my dog rules over both categories in his weight class.