The guy in Night of the Living Dead was SO close.
Maggie’s Motivational Pic Thread v2.0 - - New Rules - See Post #1
- Thread starter Snake-Eyes
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Yeah. It's common. I don't know why. But I've seen it that way many times. (And I just recently retired from a lifetime carrier as a cartographer.)
My understanding is it has to do with sighting. When you turn the compass (or a device the compass is mounted on) the needle points to the direction the device/compass is facing. The needle always points north so when you turn it 90 degrees to the right the needle indicates the device is facing east.
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It’s actually on one of the movie channels right now lol
Ass is ass, and I don't care to rub ass on myself, regardless of how clean it is. That's why I dry my ass last, and then wash the towel.
But you do you, and enjoy your ass perfume.
It’s Saturday so it’s bath night and I can’t resist: you do know that if you dry your ass last your legs receive the water from your ass you haven’t dried via gravity and smell like ass, just like your ass. That means you got leg ass.
I mean, if we are being assholes and concentrating on assholes all of the sudden. Which is problematic itself, but you brought it up….
Outstanding muscular development. This is the answer.
You are not supposed to fart in the towel. Do we have to tell you everything?!?
Might as well be draped in a rainbow flag
Not a dermatologist but I'll check it out.
So.
I just ran a test on the towel thingy.
Since I'm in a hotel right now there are at least two benefits to this test.
1. The towels are bright white.
2. If something shows up, I don't have to deal with it.
Anyway, back to the test. After getting up this morning in West Yellowstone, MT, I took a nice healthy dump and then wiped my ass until the paper came out clean. Went and had a shower and made sure that the soap made good contact with the brown starfish. I rinsed appropriately.
The towels were a nice milk chocolate brown, so I couldn't really look for skid marks. Then again, I knew my ass was clean, so I didn't look anyway.
Since the towel and ass drama unfolded earlier while I was at the airport, I couldn't do much except wait.
After the airport wait, the 3-1/2 hour flight and other time getting to the hotel, 12 hours had gone by since my morning shower. I get here and see the responses, so I proceeded to do the first phase of this test.
I grabbed a wash cloth and flossed my crack with it.
Nothing. Nope, not a skid mark to be found.
I hop into the shower and get all soaped up, taking particular care to massage my lovely butthole.
Did I mention anything about how good it feels if you do it properly? Probably not.
Anyway, I finish with the shower and dry off. I even made a point to dry my ass crack last so that I wouldn't forget which part of the towel I used.
I then observed the areas and noted no color change.
Now, for the piece de resistance, it smelled like the body wash I use, not butt butter.
With all that said, the house staff will never know what I did with their lily white towels.
My ass remains clean to the sight, touch, and smell.
My recommendation to the complainer is take the advice I gave to my then 8yr old stepson. He had a bad habit of digging in his ass crack because it itched. I had to explain to him that washing his ass cheeks didn't get his butthole clean. Told him the soap had to make good contact with the starfish or the shit he didn't wipe off would cause the itching.
Since taking the advice and applying the technique, he doesn't have an itchy ass.
If you have a asshole/towel phobia, either change your technique or seek counseling.
I just ran a test on the towel thingy.
Since I'm in a hotel right now there are at least two benefits to this test.
1. The towels are bright white.
2. If something shows up, I don't have to deal with it.
Anyway, back to the test. After getting up this morning in West Yellowstone, MT, I took a nice healthy dump and then wiped my ass until the paper came out clean. Went and had a shower and made sure that the soap made good contact with the brown starfish. I rinsed appropriately.
The towels were a nice milk chocolate brown, so I couldn't really look for skid marks. Then again, I knew my ass was clean, so I didn't look anyway.
Since the towel and ass drama unfolded earlier while I was at the airport, I couldn't do much except wait.
After the airport wait, the 3-1/2 hour flight and other time getting to the hotel, 12 hours had gone by since my morning shower. I get here and see the responses, so I proceeded to do the first phase of this test.
I grabbed a wash cloth and flossed my crack with it.
Nothing. Nope, not a skid mark to be found.
I hop into the shower and get all soaped up, taking particular care to massage my lovely butthole.
Did I mention anything about how good it feels if you do it properly? Probably not.
Anyway, I finish with the shower and dry off. I even made a point to dry my ass crack last so that I wouldn't forget which part of the towel I used.
I then observed the areas and noted no color change.
Now, for the piece de resistance, it smelled like the body wash I use, not butt butter.
With all that said, the house staff will never know what I did with their lily white towels.
My ass remains clean to the sight, touch, and smell.
My recommendation to the complainer is take the advice I gave to my then 8yr old stepson. He had a bad habit of digging in his ass crack because it itched. I had to explain to him that washing his ass cheeks didn't get his butthole clean. Told him the soap had to make good contact with the starfish or the shit he didn't wipe off would cause the itching.
Since taking the advice and applying the technique, he doesn't have an itchy ass.
If you have a asshole/towel phobia, either change your technique or seek counseling.
There was so much tmi and extreme detail here that I feel like I need to call SH HR. Not that it will do any good.
I can't take credit for this story, I'm not nearly eloquent, or stupid enough to do this, but damn it's funny.
Long read, I know. Stick with it.
Don't shave your ass!
I have recently made a mistake in my life, and I offer my story to you, that you may learn from my error. It all started, as many things do, with me having trouble s**ting.
No, I was not constipated; this was not a regular problem but a matter of technique. It seems my ass-hair had grown to such a length that they were constantly getting tied up in the matted jungle between my cheeks. It led to so much frustration, with me KNOWING that I still had something to drop, but unable to shake the tenacious turd loose from its butt hair dwelling.
Eventually I would have to do two things, either reach down with some paper and try to pinch off the lingering loaf (which required careful precision to avoid smearing the creature all over my rear, especially since I had no way of seeing what I was doing) or just go for broke, start wiping, and hope that I could remove all the leftover faecal matter before the toilet paper reached it's "Can't Be Flushed" threshold.
I was contemplating this problem, when I had what seemed at the time to be a bright idea.
HEY! This is my butt and my butt-hair, right? So why don't I just eliminate all the hair, and then my logs will flow out like beer from a keg! It is a statement that will go down in history with a lot of other regretted statements.
"How many Indians could there be?" said General Custer.
"Looks like a good day for a drive!" said JFK.
"There, America Online now has complete Usenet access!" said by some idiot system technician.
Such was my anal shaving idea.
I performed the operation that night, with a cheap disposable razor and a towel to sit on. Starting from the bottom, and shaving from the crack to the cheeks, I began the arduous process of ridding my ass of hair. Occasionally, I would have to clean the razor of accumulated hair and miscellaneous slime, which I did by wiping it on the towel.
Slowly, my twin mounds and the ravine in between began to resemble the hairless cheeks of a newborn baby. Finally, I wiped the razor one last time, and surveyed my work. The towel was covered with a pile of hair.
My ass was smooth as ivory.
I smiled, satisfied, thinking my troubles were over.
Little did I know.....
I now have a great respect for anal-hair. Like everything in this world, it has its mighty purpose in existence. It was only after I had removed it that I started to learn how much I had been taking it for granted.
For one, it provides friction. I learned this the next day, when I walked out into the sun heading for class. After climbing two flights of stairs and starting to sweat, I started to notice something unpleasant. The sweat was accumulating in my crack, and was causing the unpleasant sensation of my two ass cheeks sliding past each other with every step. I thought about going to the bathroom and wiping it off, but had to get to class. Eventually, I thought, it would dry.
Unfortunately, it did dry, but only after mingling with the microscopic brownie molecules lingering around my chocolate starfish. When I stood up after class, my cheeks were stuck together with a slimy sticky sweat combination.
As I made my way back to my dorm, it started to itch. GOD-DAMN, did it itch! Felt like a swarm of fire ants was making its way up and down my crack. Fighting to keep from jamming my hand down there and scratching away, I rushed back to the dorm.
This exertion caused me to sweat, and when I finally reached my room, my cheeks were sliding back and forth against each other like a pair of horny cane-toads. I quickly dropped my pants, and attempted to dry my ass off by sticking it in front of a fan and spreading my cheeks. As I pulled the two mounds of flesh apart, a horrible stench burst free and filled the room.
Every dog within a 4 block radius started to howl. I had it worst of all, as the ripe aroma of festering sweat went into the fan and blew back into my face. I fought to keep from heaving. And as I sat there, fighting vomit, my ass cheeks spread and dripping, with the concentrated aroma of my body odour mixed with the tangy smell of my own s**t blowing right into my face, I had only one thought:
Will be like this until the hair grows back?
Later on, trying to deal with it as best I could, wiping my ass at every opportunity, I discovered another wonderful use for ass-hair - ventilation.
I attempted to launch a fart, only to have it get stuck between my ass cheeks. Apparently, with no hair, the two pink twins can get vacuum sealed together, and the result was a frustrating fart that slid up and down between my cheeks like a lost gerbil.
As if that wasn't enough, I am now enduring further torture. As anyone who has ever shaved anything knows, when hair is first growing in, it comes in as stubble.
Imagine your ass having the texture of a Brillo pad. Well, that is what I am dealing with now. It is a hellish torture, and there are many times when I just look out the window and contemplate why I shouldn't just jump out and get it all over with in one fleshy splat, rather than endure this constant agony.
Friends, DON'T SHAVE YOUR ASS HAIR
Long read, I know. Stick with it.
Don't shave your ass!
I have recently made a mistake in my life, and I offer my story to you, that you may learn from my error. It all started, as many things do, with me having trouble s**ting.
No, I was not constipated; this was not a regular problem but a matter of technique. It seems my ass-hair had grown to such a length that they were constantly getting tied up in the matted jungle between my cheeks. It led to so much frustration, with me KNOWING that I still had something to drop, but unable to shake the tenacious turd loose from its butt hair dwelling.
Eventually I would have to do two things, either reach down with some paper and try to pinch off the lingering loaf (which required careful precision to avoid smearing the creature all over my rear, especially since I had no way of seeing what I was doing) or just go for broke, start wiping, and hope that I could remove all the leftover faecal matter before the toilet paper reached it's "Can't Be Flushed" threshold.
I was contemplating this problem, when I had what seemed at the time to be a bright idea.
HEY! This is my butt and my butt-hair, right? So why don't I just eliminate all the hair, and then my logs will flow out like beer from a keg! It is a statement that will go down in history with a lot of other regretted statements.
"How many Indians could there be?" said General Custer.
"Looks like a good day for a drive!" said JFK.
"There, America Online now has complete Usenet access!" said by some idiot system technician.
Such was my anal shaving idea.
I performed the operation that night, with a cheap disposable razor and a towel to sit on. Starting from the bottom, and shaving from the crack to the cheeks, I began the arduous process of ridding my ass of hair. Occasionally, I would have to clean the razor of accumulated hair and miscellaneous slime, which I did by wiping it on the towel.
Slowly, my twin mounds and the ravine in between began to resemble the hairless cheeks of a newborn baby. Finally, I wiped the razor one last time, and surveyed my work. The towel was covered with a pile of hair.
My ass was smooth as ivory.
I smiled, satisfied, thinking my troubles were over.
Little did I know.....
I now have a great respect for anal-hair. Like everything in this world, it has its mighty purpose in existence. It was only after I had removed it that I started to learn how much I had been taking it for granted.
For one, it provides friction. I learned this the next day, when I walked out into the sun heading for class. After climbing two flights of stairs and starting to sweat, I started to notice something unpleasant. The sweat was accumulating in my crack, and was causing the unpleasant sensation of my two ass cheeks sliding past each other with every step. I thought about going to the bathroom and wiping it off, but had to get to class. Eventually, I thought, it would dry.
Unfortunately, it did dry, but only after mingling with the microscopic brownie molecules lingering around my chocolate starfish. When I stood up after class, my cheeks were stuck together with a slimy sticky sweat combination.
As I made my way back to my dorm, it started to itch. GOD-DAMN, did it itch! Felt like a swarm of fire ants was making its way up and down my crack. Fighting to keep from jamming my hand down there and scratching away, I rushed back to the dorm.
This exertion caused me to sweat, and when I finally reached my room, my cheeks were sliding back and forth against each other like a pair of horny cane-toads. I quickly dropped my pants, and attempted to dry my ass off by sticking it in front of a fan and spreading my cheeks. As I pulled the two mounds of flesh apart, a horrible stench burst free and filled the room.
Every dog within a 4 block radius started to howl. I had it worst of all, as the ripe aroma of festering sweat went into the fan and blew back into my face. I fought to keep from heaving. And as I sat there, fighting vomit, my ass cheeks spread and dripping, with the concentrated aroma of my body odour mixed with the tangy smell of my own s**t blowing right into my face, I had only one thought:
Will be like this until the hair grows back?
Later on, trying to deal with it as best I could, wiping my ass at every opportunity, I discovered another wonderful use for ass-hair - ventilation.
I attempted to launch a fart, only to have it get stuck between my ass cheeks. Apparently, with no hair, the two pink twins can get vacuum sealed together, and the result was a frustrating fart that slid up and down between my cheeks like a lost gerbil.
As if that wasn't enough, I am now enduring further torture. As anyone who has ever shaved anything knows, when hair is first growing in, it comes in as stubble.
Imagine your ass having the texture of a Brillo pad. Well, that is what I am dealing with now. It is a hellish torture, and there are many times when I just look out the window and contemplate why I shouldn't just jump out and get it all over with in one fleshy splat, rather than endure this constant agony.
Friends, DON'T SHAVE YOUR ASS HAIR
Saw The Who in like 89 at Folsom Field. I think it was their second farewell tour.
I apologize for driving the thread off topic.
Maybe this will in some way make amends -
Maybe this will in some way make amends -
In my best Jack Nickelson, "Is there any other kind?"...Are they Bi-Cyclist?
Will they bring those shitty California compliant faggot rifles and a jar of ass grease?
I met a gal in a sports bar in Blacklick, OH who took me into women's bathroom to show me that she had 3 breasts. She had a special sports bra to help cover the middle one up. Wish I would have done more than fondled them but at least I have scratched one off my list but also added one to my "need to accomplish" listIt's a third nipple.
The least you could have done is shown us a barely-concealed ass crack.
But the way you read the compass blah blah blah blah.
It's wrong. End of story. Even if you are in Australia.
It's wrong. End of story. Even if you are in Australia.
This church was about 30 miles from where I lived in PA. Basically an offshoot of the "Moonies", run by one of the sons of Sun Yung Moon Another son owns Auto Ordinance, which makes Kahr pistols and Thompson sub-machine guns, where every year they would have a big pro-2A gathering, and is located in the same area as the church.
In pictures: US gun-blessing ceremony
Hundreds of World Peace and Unification Sanctuary church members get their guns blessed in Pennsylvania.
www.bbc.com
