Oh, and given my fark handle--

"See, somehow, I can't feel sorry for an anorexic. you know?. Rich coont, don't want to eat? fark her. fark her. Don't eat! I give a shiat. Like I'm supposed to be concerned about this. "I DON'T WANNA EAT!" Go fark yourself. Why don't you lie down in front of a railroad train right after you don't eat? What kind of a God damned disease is that, anyway? "I DON'T WANNA EAT!" How do we come up with this shiat in this country? Where do we get our values from? Bulimia, there's another all-American disease. This has got to be the only country in the world that could ever have come up with bulimia. Got to be the only country where some people are digging in the dumpster for a peach pit, other people eat a nice meal and puke it up intentionally."

-- Carlin

/love that bit

What a sh*tty story.

No one? really?

from the look of the pics, they don't seem to be working.

Lone Stranger: Type 7

Type 8.

I recently had a colonoscopy and in preperation for it, was prescribed 14x times the normal dosage of a laxative. I was basically a human version of the chocolate fountain at the Golden Corral.

I read that whole article while eating my dinner. WTF is wrong with me.

From the Article -- edited for reality

So when she saw a documentary about anorexic singer Karen Carpenter,( Who died from anorexia ) she was inspired to copy the star's use of laxatives, ( because copying dead peoples cause of death is always the sure fire way to success!!

But to be honest, Karen Carpenter did lose weight after she was dead

I take 50 laxatives a day cause I like fertilize the lawn while I walk around the yard

Let she who hasn't been addicted to laxatives throw the first fece.

Blushing Wall Flower: MoronLessOff: Blushing Wall Flower: bim1154: Blushing Wall Flower: bim1154: Blushing Wall Flower: bim1154: Blushing Wall Flower: Ugh if I shat the bed in the middle of sex I would be so mortified. that would straighten me up real quick.

So would I cause I'm not going to help you clean up!

You wouldn't help me clean it up but you better help me haul the mattress to the dump. Get it? Dump?

I feel so unclean now.

Do I need to clean up my act?

:D

Poop thread with a nice looking Farkette. Nothing I do the rest of the day will surpass this.

You're lucky I'm out of poop jokes.

You mean you're all cleaned out? You can't come with a couple more? I bet if you thing real hard, you could drop 2.

I believe that is called a deuce.

Wall flower, I give you "Goldie Pinklesweet" by Roald Dahl

"Attention please! Attention please!
Don't dare to talk! Don't dare to sneeze!
Don't doze or daydream! Stay awake!
Your health, your very life's at stake!
Ho-ho, you say, they can't mean me.
Ha-ha, we answer, wait and see.

Did any of you ever meet
A child called Goldie Pinklesweet?
Who on her seventh birthday went
To stay with Granny down in Kent.
At lunchtime on the second day
Of dearest little Goldie's stay,
Granny announced, 'I'm going down
To do some shopping in the town.'
(D'you know why Granny didn't tell
The child to come along as well?
She's going to the nearest inn
To buy herself a double gin.)

So out she creeps. She shuts the door.
And Goldie, after making sure
That she is really by herself,
Goes quickly to the medicine shelf,
And there, her little greedy eyes
See pills of every shape and size,
Such fascinating colours too --
Some green, some pink, some brown, some blue.
'All right,' she says, 'let's try the brown,'
She takes one pill and gulps it down.
'Yum-yum!' she cries. 'Hooray! What fun!
They're chocolate-coated, every one!'
She gobbles five, she gobbles ten,
She stops her gobbling only when
The last pill's gone. There are no more.
Slowly she rises from the floor.
She stops. She hiccups. Dear, oh dear,
She starts to feel a trifle queer.

You see, how could young Goldie know,
For nobody had told her so,
That Grandmama, her old relation
Suffered from frightful constipation.
This meant that every night she'd give
Herself a powerful laxative,
And all the medicines that she'd bought
Were naturally of this sort.
The pink and red and blue and green
Were all extremely strong and mean.
But far more fierce and meaner still,
Was Granny's little chocolate pill.
Its blast effect was quite uncanny.
It used to shake up even Granny.
In point of fact she did not dare
To use them more than twice a year.
So can you wonder little Goldie
Began to feel a wee bit moldy?

Inside her tummy, something stirred.
A funny gurgling sound was heard,
And then, oh dear, from deep within,
The ghastly rumbling sounds begin!
They rumbilate and roar and boom!
They bounce and echo round the room!
The floorboards shake and from the wall
Some bits of paint and plaster fall.
Explosions, whistles, awful bangs
Were followed by the loudest clangs.
(A man next door was heard to say,
'A thunderstorm is on the way.')
But on and on the rumbling goes.
A window cracks, a lamp-bulb blows.
Young Goldie clutched herself and cried,
'There's something wrong with my inside!'
This was, we very greatly fear,
The understatement of the year.
For wouldn't any child feel crummy,
With loud explosions in her tummy?

Granny, at half past two, came in,
Weaving a little from the gin,
But even so she quickly saw
The empty bottle on the floor.
'My precious laxatives!' she cried.
'I don't feel well,' the girl replied.
Angrily Grandma shook her head.
'I'm really not surprised,' she said.
'Why can't you leave my pills alone?'
With that, she grabbed the telephone
And shouted, 'Listen, send us quick
An ambulance! A child is sick!
It's number fifty, Fontwell Road!
Come fast! I think she might explode!'

We're sure you do not wish to hear
About the hospital and where
They did a lot of horrid things
With stomach-pumps and rubber rings.
Let's answer what you want to know;
Did Goldie live or did she go?
The doctors gathered round her bed,
'There's really not much hope,' they said.
'She's going, going, gone!' they cried.
'She's had her chips! She's dead! She's died!"
'I'm not so sure,' the child replied.
And all at once she opened wide
Her great big bluish eyes and sighed,
And gave the anxious docs a wink,
And said, 'I'll be okay, I think.'

So Goldie lived and back she went
At first to Granny's place in Kent.
Her father came the second day
And fetched her in a Chevrolet,
And drove her to their home in Dover.
But Goldie's troubles were not over.
You see, if someone takes enough
Of any highly dangerous stuff,
One will invariably find
Some traces of it left behind.
It pains us greatly to relate
That Goldie suffered from this fate.
She'd taken such a massive fill
Of this unpleasant kind of pill,
It got into her blood and bones,
It messed up all her chromosomes,
It made her constantly upset,
And she could never really get
The beastly stuff to go away.
And so the girl was forced to stay
For seven hours every day
Within the everlasting gloom
Of what we call The Ladies Room.
And after all, the W.C.
Is not the gayest place to be.
So now, before it is too late.
Take heed of Goldie's dreadful fate.
And seriously, all jokes apart,
Do promise us across your heart
That you will never help yourself
To medicine from the medicine shelf."

/enjoy, farkers and farkettes

Her boyfriend?

Cybernetic: I guess I don't understand the thought process:

"I've done something that is both stupid and humiliating. Therefore, I should tell my story to a news outlet where it can receive wide distribution, thus allowing me to receive the derision and abuse that I so richly deserve."

Is that it?

/People are weird.

I'm with you. Maybe, expelling this shiat at the media is the end result of a self-esteem issue and they take their chances, #1, they get the necessary attention rained down on them, whether it's good or bad doesn't matter, or #2...they go back to their dump of a house, their crappy job and their relationships that are quickly circling the drain- but it's out there and they feel accepted.



Poop.

beefoe: I recently had a colonoscopy and in preperation for it, was prescribed 14x times the normal dosage of a laxative. I was basically a human version of the chocolate fountain at the Golden Corral.

Here's the visual:


DoBeDoBeDo:
Also when did she find time to eat things to shiat out?

Lone Stranger: [www.gpnotebook.co.uk image 350x456]

Type 7

Mushy Stool would be an awesome band name.

Blushing Wall Flower: Ugh if I shat the bed in the middle of sex I would be so mortified.



Memory foam mattresses never forget.

"If peeing your pants is cool, then consider me Miles Davis"