I live alone and dying on the pooper with my pants down is one of my more horrifying thoughts.

Aye-aye-aye!

I blame Alvin and the Chipmunks: Chipwrecked

Crap...wrong thread.

Still kinda works...

Maybe

If the restroom was locked, I can understand how ushers could have missed it (although opening and closing managers absolutely should have caught it). But the overnight cleaning staff just ignored the family restroom for five days? Someone just lost their contract.

"Every day" should be two words in that context, submittard.

what's that smell? oh, its sasso. you remember sasso? ron from renaldo?

JasonOfOrillia: I live alone and dying on the pooper with my pants down is one of my more horrifying thoughts.

Elvis died on the toilet. Gold toilet though.

Mulchpuppy: If the restroom was locked, I can understand how ushers could have missed it (although opening and closing managers absolutely should have caught it). But the overnight cleaning staff just ignored the family restroom for five days? Someone just lost their contract.

Not to mention the Police searched the theater for him as well.

/They couldn't find JonBenet Ramsey either, Colorado police are bad at finding stiff

"his vehicle was in the theater parking lot. Police had searched the area without success."

Sounds like they looked really hard.

DeGrazio's family reported him missing Jan. 9, and his vehicle was in the theater parking lot. Police had searched the area without success.

Farkin pigs. His car was in the parking lot, he was dead in the toilet. How hard could that be?

Wanted for questioning:



/please work, hotlink

Begoggle: "his vehicle was in the theater parking lot. Police had searched the area without success."

Sounds like they looked really hard.

Nope.

JasonOfOrillia: I live alone and dying on the pooper with my pants down is one of my more horrifying thoughts.

Meh, you will be dead, no biggie. How about the fear of the police busting down your front door on a no knock warrant (wrong address of course) just after you have rubbed one out. Sock in hand, pants around your ankles, and there is S.W.A.T. along with the COPS film crew. Much more awkward than dieing on the crapper, wouldn't you say?
Just something to think about.

Colonel Must-turd, in the restroom stall, with the candy stick.

I worked at a movie theater back in the day, and I came downstairs from the office after the last snackbar kid had turned off the lights and left for the night, and I heard pounding and screaming from the men's room. I turned the lights back on and this old man came out, scared half to death. When it went dark, he panicked and was pushing and pounding on the door thinking it was locked, instead of feeling for the handle and PULLING to open.

So I'm kind of surprised this doesn't happen MORE often.

Why did they rule it a death by heart attack? He could have paid to see "The Devil Inside" and was so upset at the money he spent on that crap that he committed suicide.

I heard the Twilight films were bad, but this is getting ridiculous.

JasonOfOrillia: I live alone and dying on the pooper with my pants down is one of my more horrifying thoughts.

You can blame the vagus nerve if it ever happens. The act of pooping actually can cause a heart attack. So maybe you should make a phone call to someone every time you poop, just in case.

Mulchpuppy: Wanted for questioning:



/please work, hotlink

Nice ref!

Five days? At that point it's usually a "check suspicious smell" call to the cops.

The bacteria in your digestive tract don't die when you do. They'll keep reproducing, and feeding on what's available, until there's no place left to go. Then the neighbors learn you've died.

Rip Dashrock:
Meh, you will be dead, no biggie. How about the fear of the police busting down your front door on a no knock warrant (wrong address of course) just after you have rubbed one out. Sock in hand, pants around your ankles, and there is S.W.A.T. along with the COPS film crew. Much more awkward than dieing on the crapper, wouldn't you say?
Just something to think about.

I can't fap to that.

Rip Dashrock: JasonOfOrillia: I live alone and dying on the pooper with my pants down is one of my more horrifying thoughts.

Meh, you will be dead, no biggie. How about the fear of the police busting down your front door on a no knock warrant (wrong address of course) just after you have rubbed one out. Sock in hand, pants around your ankles, and there is S.W.A.T. along with the COPS film crew. Much more awkward than dieing on the crapper, wouldn't you say?
Just something to think about.

Wow, deal in fear much?

You reek of it.

NoseBrain: I worked at a movie theater back in the day, and I came downstairs from the office after the last snackbar kid had turned off the lights and left for the night, and I heard pounding and screaming from the men's room. I turned the lights back on and this old man came out, scared half to death. When it went dark, he panicked and was pushing and pounding on the door thinking it was locked, instead of feeling for the handle and PULLING to open.

So I'm kind of surprised this doesn't happen MORE often.

Every open to the public business I worked at one of the jobs of the closing manager was to check everywhere to make sure nobody was still inside. Bathrooms, storage rooms, walk in coolers, etc. It seems like a really bad idea not to double check that someone isn't trying to rob the place by getting locked inside, or that someone didn't keel over in a bathroom.

A five-day-old rotting corpse smells like lavender compared to what I emit while on the can. Now I can worry that someone will kick in the door of the stall if someone in the area is missing.

.....when theater employees broke the lock on the restroom door to investigate an odor.


It concerns me greatly that this happens.

JasonOfOrillia: I live alone and dying on the pooper with my pants down is one of my more horrifying thoughts.



Get a pet. They will pull you off of the toilet to better 'nom the tastier bits of your face and other bits not accessible when seated. So instead of all of us talking about how you died grunting one out in your
yet another Farker has died thread we will mostly discuss that your pet ate you.

A dog will wait a few days before it gets desperate enough but a cat will dig in as soon as you are room temp. Choose according to how nosy your neighbors are.

JasonOfOrillia: I live alone and dying on the pooper with my pants down is one of my more horrifying thoughts.

Sounds like you need to spend more time at the movie theater. At least you'll make it to Fark that way.

The cops who did the search should be fired.

JasonOfOrillia: I live alone and dying on the pooper with my pants down is one of my more horrifying thoughts.

My dad was horrified when I told him that I was getting a divorce years ago. He could care less about the divorce; it was the thought of me living alone that freaked him out. It didn't help that a few months later on New Year's Day, the body of one of his employees was discovered alone in his apartment. He had died of an aneurysm or some kind of brain hemorrhage several days earlier, plus he was young, in his 30s.

/I like to think that I would be missed sooner than that.
//I'm probably wrong.

davidphogan: JasonOfOrillia: I live alone and dying on the pooper with my pants down is one of my more horrifying thoughts.

You can blame the vagus nerve if it ever happens. The act of pooping actually can cause a heart attack. So maybe you should make a phone call to someone every time you poop, just in case.

Not necessary. My wife has Excrasensory Perception and calls friends and family whenever they're on the pot anyway.

That Guy in the Dos Equis Commercials: A five-day-old rotting corpse smells like lavender compared to what I emit while on the can. Now I can worry that someone will kick in the door of the stall if someone in the area is missing.

you must have to beat the women off you with a stick, you silver-tongued devil you.

I worked at this theater.

Twice.

davidphogan: You can blame the vagus nerve if it ever happens. The act of pooping actually can cause a heart attack. So maybe you should make a phone call to someone every time you poop, just in case.

Phone call? No, that's what Twitter is for.

Mulchpuppy:
Wanted for questioning:

[Caitlyn.jpg]

/please work, hotlink

Damn you to hell.

One Bad Apple:
Get a pet. They will pull you off of the toilet to better 'nom the tastier bits of your face and other bits not accessible when seated. So instead of all of us talking about how you died grunting one out in your
yet another Farker has died thread we will mostly discuss that your pet ate you.

I think of it as "why should your poor pet starve to death just because you died?" It gives Fluffy a few days leeway to be rescued. You won't care anyway by then.

OtherLittleGuy: This thread useless without pictures of Emily Deschanel on the toilet.

You sick bastard.

Delay: DeGrazio's family reported him missing Jan. 9, and his vehicle was in the theater parking lot. Police had searched the area without success.

Farkin pigs. His car was in the parking lot, he was dead in the toilet. How hard could that be?

[cdn.theatlantic.com image 615x410]

Not that cops aren't that lazy but they prolly just asked the manager who lied his ass off about "every night we check all the rooms before locking up". That will be their story anyway.

Ivo Shandor:
Phone call? No, that's what Twitter is for.

KrispyKritter: That Guy in the Dos Equis Commercials: A five-day-old rotting corpse smells like lavender compared to what I emit while on the can. Now I can worry that someone will kick in the door of the stall if someone in the area is missing.

you must have to beat the women off you with a stick, you silver-tongued devil you.

I have issues. Even at home if the GF is at home if she is upstairs I go downstairs, and vice-versa. I am under no delusions that my shiat doesn't stink.

I saw "Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy" there yesterday. Many news vans around. Cinemark smelled the way it always does.

JasonOfOrillia: I live alone and dying on the pooper with my pants down is one of my more horrifying thoughts.

I think you should install one of those 'i need help' strings in your poop room. Theres got to be a way to have it autpmatically tweet a message to all your friends and relatives.

we were spooning, i thought he was sleeping

Isn't a "family" restroom one of those places mommies or daddies can take little kids and change infants' diapers? Why would it not be checked like the others? And why was this man in there?

Somebody's gettin' sued, big-time: Namely, the family, who probably knew or should have known their family member had a weak heart or other chronic condition and therefore was liable to expire on the premises of a licensed legal business, thus causing that business (i.e., poor struggling theater chain) great expense, mental anguish and loss of commercial value.

i'm poopin cat stat.