Challenge- Post a true event in your life. Humor welcome.

[Hayabusa Rider]

I'll start.

I pee outside in my yard. Yep I do. Oh not in place of indoor plumbing but if I take the dogs out and I have to go I do. There's nothing near me so only trees and bugs would be offended.

So I have a neat puppy, about 3 months old now. While he was out running around on the lawn I had to go and I saw no reason to wait. Unfortunately, his hearing being acute, he ran over and stopped under the stream. Yep I pissed all over my dog's head. Yes he got a bath.

 

[Cappuccino]

ilikepuppos

 

[Ns1]

earlier this week, the blind puppy who eats poop threw up the poop that she ate onto the other blind puppy who also eats poop, causing him to throw up the poop that he ate as well

 

[Hayabusa Rider]

earlier this week, the blind puppy who eats poop threw up the poop that she ate onto the other blind puppy who also eats poop, causing him to throw up the poop that he ate as well

Were you the first puppy, the second, the vomit or the poop?

 

[renz20003]

When my son was 5 months old he shit on the dog as wife was putting him in the tub

 

[DigDog]

i once pooped in the sahara desert; best poop of my life.

 

[WaTaGuMp]

Back in Jr High, when doing sit ups and someone was holding my feet down. I would fart when I went up.

 

[MrSquished]

i once pooped in the sahara desert; best poop of my life.

I once took an epic shit on the way to the Sahara, from the Moroccan side. Coming via Marrakesh through Ourzazate to the Sahara my stomach was starting to bug me from something I ate. We were really out in the middle of nowhere and I was keeping this from my gf at the time. I just told her I had to stop at the next place we saw to go to the bathroom. We had rented a car so I was driving and it was just the two of us.

As it was coming to the point of no return, that I was going to have to shit on the side of the road and wipe my ass with my underwear, a large hut-like structure appeared out of the void. Your basic super mini rest stop, Moroccan desert style. I walk in clenching my ass cheeks furiously. There is one man behind the counter and 2 men in front just hanging out. I ask sheepishly for 'bathroom' and they point towards a sheet hanging on a clothesline just feet away. I shuffle in that direction and behind the sheet is a hole in the ground with some porcelain-type place for your feet. With seconds to spare and with those 3 guys about 4 feet from me I squatted like I'd been doing it my whole life and just let it rip. Noises came out of my ass that hadn't come out of there in years. It was loud, proud and doing it for a crowd.

It's the best shit of my life cause it's the only one I remember so vividly. I hope those 3 guys were proud of an American making it all the way out to near the Sahara desert to show them that American poop can be strong like in middle east.

 

[dasherHampton]

Back in Jr High, when doing sit ups and someone was holding my feet down. I would fart when I went up.

On one of the best nights of my life ever I was able to seal the deal with a fairly attractive girl. We were both pretty hammered so the sex was pretty hammered as well.

The only problem? Her queefs were horrendous. Like a 350 pound fattie letting it rip, time and time again. There was nothing I could to make it stop. I remember trying different speeds, directions, angles.

She didn't even seem to notice. Maybe to her all sex is like that.

 

[NAC4EV]

THE QUEEFS

NOW THAT'S ENTERTAINMENT!!!!!

 

[brianmanahan]

this is the dirtiest thread on ATOT

 

[DigDog]

I once took an epic shit on the way to the Sahara, from the Moroccan side. Coming via Marrakesh through Ourzazate to the Sahara

more or less the same place i pooped, except i didn't go to the station, i just let it go in the wild.

 

[BoomerD]

In the mid-90's, I got sent to a job at Cypress Point golf course at Pebble Beach. One of the most elite golf courses in the USA. During the previous couple of winters, severe storms had done damage to the cliffs along the golf course and we were "rebuilding" them with concrete (gunite) and rebar. (they even hired "artists" to come in, carve the gunite, dye and stain it so it looked like real rock...complete with bird crap)
MOST of my day was putting drilling crews in a manbasket, holding them over the side of the cliff so they could drill into the rock and epoxy "grout nails" in place to help stabilize the rock and for securing the rebar.
One day, my crew got pulled to another part of the job...and I was left to my own wiles for several hours...I used the time to make sure the crane was in good operational shape...greased everything, checked the fluids, (again) cleaned windows and cab...etc....and still had time on my hands. (idle hands are the devil's workshop)

So...I wandered around and picked up a hard-hat full of golf balls out of the rough...scattered them on the putting green...and got down on my hands and knees...and played pool with a sand rake.

Until...a pair of golf shoes walked up behind me and I hear a very distinctive voice say, "Well...you making any?"



I look over and say, "Makin a few. How are you today, Mr. Eastwood? Out of all the people to catch me fucking off......"

We walked around, looked at the work being done...and chatted a while about the work we were doing on the golf course he was building near Carmel...then he was off...and I went back to shooting pool on the putting green...

 

[Exterous]

Well this has turned into a shitty thread

 

[Charmonium]

I once took the Green Tortoise to Mardi Gras from NYC. Coming back we were pulled over by NJ State Troopers. This probably had something to do with paisley curtains and mardi gras beads fluttering out of the windows of an ancient bus with bed platforms for seats. A classic example of profiling if ever there was one. I know for a fact that they found "stuff" on the bus but I guess it wasn't enough to justify the paperwork of busting 20-some people. So after they lined us up on the side of the highway, confiscating my beloved power hitter in the process, they actually let us go. Never underestimate the benefits of being more trouble than you're worth.

 

[ch33zw1z]

THE QUEEFS

NOW THAT'S ENTERTAINMENT!!!!!

Holy moly.

 

[SearchMaster]

In the mid-90's, I got sent to a job at Cypress Point golf course at Pebble Beach. One of the most elite golf courses in the USA. During the previous couple of winters, severe storms had done damage to the cliffs along the golf course and we were "rebuilding" them with concrete (gunite) and rebar. (they even hired "artists" to come in, carve the gunite, dye and stain it so it looked like real rock...complete with bird crap)
MOST of my day was putting drilling crews in a manbasket, holding them over the side of the cliff so they could drill into the rock and epoxy "grout nails" in place to help stabilize the rock and for securing the rebar.
One day, my crew got pulled to another part of the job...and I was left to my own wiles for several hours...I used the time to make sure the crane was in good operational shape...greased everything, checked the fluids, (again) cleaned windows and cab...etc....and still had time on my hands. (idle hands are the devil's workshop)

So...I wandered around and picked up a hard-hat full of golf balls out of the rough...scattered them on the putting green...and got down on my hands and knees...and played pool with a sand rake.

Until...a pair of golf shoes walked up behind me and I hear a very distinctive voice say, "Well...you making any?"



I look over and say, "Makin a few. How are you today, Mr. Eastwood? Out of all the people to catch me fucking off......"

We walked around, looked at the work being done...and chatted a while about the work we were doing on the golf course he was building near Carmel...then he was off...and I went back to shooting pool on the putting green...

I've played golf about 5 times in my life, but the last time I played (8 years ago or so) a greenskeeper came up and asked if Phil Niekro could play through. Of course we obliged especially because we all sucked. I was actually about 200 miles from home and he lives in my area - I had sat next to his wife on jury duty at one point.

 

[zinfamous]

In the mid-90's, I got sent to a job at Cypress Point golf course at Pebble Beach. One of the most elite golf courses in the USA. During the previous couple of winters, severe storms had done damage to the cliffs along the golf course and we were "rebuilding" them with concrete (gunite) and rebar. (they even hired "artists" to come in, carve the gunite, dye and stain it so it looked like real rock...complete with bird crap)
MOST of my day was putting drilling crews in a manbasket, holding them over the side of the cliff so they could drill into the rock and epoxy "grout nails" in place to help stabilize the rock and for securing the rebar.
One day, my crew got pulled to another part of the job...and I was left to my own wiles for several hours...I used the time to make sure the crane was in good operational shape...greased everything, checked the fluids, (again) cleaned windows and cab...etc....and still had time on my hands. (idle hands are the devil's workshop)

So...I wandered around and picked up a hard-hat full of golf balls out of the rough...scattered them on the putting green...and got down on my hands and knees...and played pool with a sand rake.

Until...a pair of golf shoes walked up behind me and I hear a very distinctive voice say, "Well...you making any?"



I look over and say, "Makin a few. How are you today, Mr. Eastwood? Out of all the people to catch me fucking off......"

We walked around, looked at the work being done...and chatted a while about the work we were doing on the golf course he was building near Carmel...then he was off...and I went back to shooting pool on the putting green...

what, no "punk" at the end of his question? Who wouldn't read that in Dirty Harry's voice, btw?