Blistered Bunghole
Now They'll Probably Create Asshole Protection Laws...
One of my co-workers had to go to the bunghole doctor.
I'm probably violating all kinds of HIPAA regs by relating this story, but it's just too amusing to keep to myself.
OK, here's the deal...
There's a shadowy cabal of The Man's minions that enforce the sanitation and air quality of one of the bathrooms on a certain floor at an unnamed facility. This unelected, unappointed band of guerilla activists are flaunting established wage/hour laws and job duty descriptions, and on their own initiative, are keeping one of the bathrooms sparkling clean and minty fresh.
The mysterious gang of malcontents is not content with the regular cleaning crew's supplies or cleaning efforts, and have, without authorization or official permission, taken it upon themselves to surreptitiously replace the scratchy institutional rolls of bumwad with the soft, cushiony kind, and also deposited wholly unorthodox air fresheners and cleaning products in the small tiled chamber.
While entrance to the throne room cannot be regulated, there are ways of punishing transgressors who sully the pristine interior, or try to remove any of the supplies.
Recently, a minion from a distant facility came in for a meeting, and having heard of the wondrous shitter, availed themselves of the pleasures of the throne room.
Unfortunately, there was a bumwad malfunction...
See, one of the supplies kept on hand is a container of Clorox Disinfecting Wipes. These are used to wipe down the seat and handle prior to use. The container looks like this:
The visitor, however, did not read the warning label and usage instructions and jumped to the conclusion that the Clorox Wipes could be used just like flushable Wet Wipes, which are stored in a similarly shaped container, pictured below:
The visitor compounded their error by diligently scrubbing down their entire nether region with the Clorox Wipe.
An allergic reaction to one of the disinfectants or detergents became apparent in a remarkably short span of time. Word from the Security Desk is that the visitor attempted to hobble out to his car without allowing either buttcheek to contact the other one. A visit to the bum-doctor soon followed. I can imagine the resulting diagnosis will be a world-class case of contact dermatitis, aggravated by close proximity to the Pink Starfish of Pantaloonia.
Let this be a lesson to you, buoys and gulls! Read the frikkin' label before you apply anything to your balloon knot!
You just can't make this shit up...
OK, all together now!
"RECTUM? DAMN NEAR KILLED 'IM!!!"
One of my co-workers had to go to the bunghole doctor.
I'm probably violating all kinds of HIPAA regs by relating this story, but it's just too amusing to keep to myself.
OK, here's the deal...
There's a shadowy cabal of The Man's minions that enforce the sanitation and air quality of one of the bathrooms on a certain floor at an unnamed facility. This unelected, unappointed band of guerilla activists are flaunting established wage/hour laws and job duty descriptions, and on their own initiative, are keeping one of the bathrooms sparkling clean and minty fresh.
The mysterious gang of malcontents is not content with the regular cleaning crew's supplies or cleaning efforts, and have, without authorization or official permission, taken it upon themselves to surreptitiously replace the scratchy institutional rolls of bumwad with the soft, cushiony kind, and also deposited wholly unorthodox air fresheners and cleaning products in the small tiled chamber.
While entrance to the throne room cannot be regulated, there are ways of punishing transgressors who sully the pristine interior, or try to remove any of the supplies.
Recently, a minion from a distant facility came in for a meeting, and having heard of the wondrous shitter, availed themselves of the pleasures of the throne room.
Unfortunately, there was a bumwad malfunction...
See, one of the supplies kept on hand is a container of Clorox Disinfecting Wipes. These are used to wipe down the seat and handle prior to use. The container looks like this:
The visitor, however, did not read the warning label and usage instructions and jumped to the conclusion that the Clorox Wipes could be used just like flushable Wet Wipes, which are stored in a similarly shaped container, pictured below:
The visitor compounded their error by diligently scrubbing down their entire nether region with the Clorox Wipe.
An allergic reaction to one of the disinfectants or detergents became apparent in a remarkably short span of time. Word from the Security Desk is that the visitor attempted to hobble out to his car without allowing either buttcheek to contact the other one. A visit to the bum-doctor soon followed. I can imagine the resulting diagnosis will be a world-class case of contact dermatitis, aggravated by close proximity to the Pink Starfish of Pantaloonia.
Let this be a lesson to you, buoys and gulls! Read the frikkin' label before you apply anything to your balloon knot!
You just can't make this shit up...
OK, all together now!
"RECTUM? DAMN NEAR KILLED 'IM!!!"
posted by El Capitan | 3:23 PM
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