buttments2

Religions of the World

Taoism: Sh*t happens.

Confucianism: Confucius says: "Sh*t happens."

Buddhism: If sh*t happens, it isn't really sh*t.

Zen: What is the sound of sh*t happening?

Hinduism: That sh*t happened before.

Islam: If sh*t happens, it is the will of Allah.

Protestantism: Let sh*t happen to someone else.

Catholicism: If sh*t happens, you deserve it.

Born Again: Same old sh*t, new cover.

Mormon: If sh*t happens, it is eternal.

Judaism: Why does this sh*t always happen to us?

Polytheism: Who did this sh*t?

Monotheism: I've narrowed this sh*t down to one.

Satanism: We make sh*t fly.

Agnosticism: What is this sh*t?

Atheism: I don't believe this sh*t.

Rastafarianism: Let's smoke this sh*t.

There are those who feel that reading while ensconced upon the commode is a decidedly deviant behavior.

Sez who? Gawd, who has time to read anywhere else? Those are my questions, the rest was swiped from a discussion list (slightly edited).

This bathroom is not much more than a door, a toilet and a cupboard mounted high on the wall above the toilet's tank. The cupboard stores bathroom essentials (and magazines, of course). I was distracted by the magazine I already had in hand, and paid no attention to my surroundings as I settled down to let nature take its course.

I had no sooner become lulled by the solitude of the place and engrossed in my reading than I was struck a firm blow on the top of my head. To say that I was surprised would be a gross understatement. Suffice to say, it was extremely lucky I was seated where I was.

After what seemed like an hour or so I felt my heart begin to beat again. As my blood began to circulate I slowly regained awareness of my surroundings. There, on the floor between my feet, was the object that had bounced off my head ... a roll of toilet paper. I leaned back and looked up to see what was going on when another roll dropped from the cupboard to hit me squarely between the eyes.

There, hanging over the edge of the cupboard shelf and staring down at me, was the face of my Siamese cat.

I'll swear she was laughing.

And the lesson I learned? Well, it has three parts:

1) If you really want to be alone, be certain that the darn cat is somewhere else;
2) Siamese cats can climb into and hide inside of the most impossible-seeming places; and
3) Siamese cats have a sense of humor, but it's a little twisted.

Must add my own warning ... check the ceiling for spiders. It is most unnerving to have one drop down while you are pulling up.

An oldie, still a goldie
slightly edited

If you occasionally have a really bad day, and you just need to take it out on someone, don't take it out on someone you know, take it out on someone you don't know.

Remembering a phone call I needed to make, I found the number, and dialed. A man answered.

"This is Fred Hanifin, could I please speak with Robin Carter?" Suddenly, the phone was slammed down on me. I couldn't believe anyone could be so rude. I tracked down Robin's correct number, (I had transposed the last two digits).

After hanging up with her, I decided to call the "wrong" number again. When the same guy answered, I yelled, "You're an asshole!" and hung up. I wrote his number down, with the word asshole next to it, and put it in my desk drawer. Every couple of weeks, when I was paying bills or otherwise irritated or down, I'd call him and yell, "You're an asshole!" It always cheered me up.

When Caller ID came to the area, I thought my therapeutic calling would have to stop, but inspiration hit. I called the asshole and said, "Hi, this is John Smith from the Telephone Company. I'm just calling to see if you're familiar with the caller ID program?"

"NO!" and slammed the phone down.

I quickly called him back and said, "That's because you're an asshole!"

One day, after waiting patiently for a parking spot, a kid in a BMW cut me off, and pulled in. I hit the horn and yelled that it was my spot. The idiot ignored me. I noticed a "For Sale" sign in his window, so I wrote down his number.

A couple of days later, right after calling the first asshole (I had his number on speed dial), I thought I'd better call the BMW asshole, too. I dialed and someone said, "Hello?"

"Is this the man with the black BMW for sale?"

"Yes it is."

"Can you tell me where I can see it?"

"Yes, I live at 1802 West 34th Street. It's a yellow house and the car's parked right out front."

"What's your name?" I asked.

"Don Hansen." he said.

"When's a good time to catch you, Don?"

"I'm home every evening after 5."

"Listen, Don, can I tell you something?"

"Yes?"

"You're an asshole!" Then I hung up, and added his number to my speed dial, too. Now, when I had a problem, I had two assholes to call. But after several months of calling them, it wasn't as enjoyable as it used to be. So, I came up with an idea - first I called Asshole #1.

"Hello."

"You're an asshole!" (but I didn't hang up.)

"Are you still there?" he asked.

"Yeah," I said.

"Stop calling me," he screamed.

"Make me."

"Who are you?"

"My name is Don Hansen."

"Yeah? Where do you live?"

"Asshole, I live at 1802 West 34th Street, a yellow house with my black Beemer out front."

He said, "I'm coming over right now, Don. And you had better start saying your prayers."

I said, "Yeah, like I'm really scared, asshole."

Then I called asshole #2.

"Hello Asshole," I said.

He yelled, "If I ever find out who you are ..."

"You'll what?"

"I'll kick your ass."

"Well, asshole, here's your chance. I'm coming over right now." Then, I hung up, and immediately called the police saying that I lived at 1802 West 34th Street, and I was on my way over there to kill my cheating lover. Then I called Channel 13 news about the gang war going down on West 34th Street. I quickly got into my car and headed over to 34th Street. There, I saw two assholes beating the crap out of each other in front of six squad cars, a police helicopter and a news crew.

A professor is lecturing his class on the possibility of finding joy in unusual activities,"Even the most natural and common actions can provide an immense amount of pleasure. For example, a good bowel movement can be as enjoyable as making love."

A student madly waving his hand stands up when acknowledged, "Professor, either you don't know how to f*ck, or I don't know how to shit!"

Don't try to tell me that's offensive, or the first one - every Texan I know is full of it and dang proud of it to boot.

Here's a dubious distinction - type scrumptious dingleberries into the Google search engine, the premier Buttments tops the list. Why the reader who informed Beth of this honor was looking for such, I'll never know (nor do I want to). As out there as Beth and I can be and admittedly usually are, even we wouldn't consider putting those two words together.

I fear there will be a three-quel. You may request notification and be assured I'll never tell. Butt, I also won't guarantee notice delivery - mail service, in and out, is worse than ever. Save this page and check back later. In the meantime, send your baddies.
MarthaJones1@aol.com

These first two speak for themselves - I quit looking for links after the third.

http://www.heptune.com/poop.html - The Scoop on Poop - actual facts (more than anyone really needs to know), and numerous gross/bizarre categories/links

http://www.ernieshouseofwhoopass.com/
Gotta love him ... crude, rude and socially unacceptable - Ernie operates in his very own inimitable element - cutting through whichever pile of crap happens to be on the current table.

Front page guest excerpt, chosen because it's as close as possible to my feelings.

This guy is a complete asshole who's exploiting his daughter for the pity value to further his beliefs. He says he's filing this lawsuit to "protest her from being forced to watch a government mandated ritual" - c'mon. Do you really think a 7-year-old came home, flopped down her copy of the Wall Street Journal and said, "I dunno Dad, this Pledge of Allegiance sounds a little iffy to me, constitutionally speaking of course." Please. Government mandated ritual? C'mon. Let me ask you this. What's wrong with her standing up, saying the pledge, and just being silent when the "under God" part comes up, and then continue with "... indivisible"? Nothing, it's just this guy being an asshole.

Note please, the above is relatively "clean" - as in devoid of that awful naughty f-word. Ernie's personal editorials generally are not. There are times when only that word will convey the fitting punch. No doubt, there's plenty "worse" to be found there too.

One of my recipe* pages guests thought I'd enjoy the chicken beer butt - I did, it's hilarious and legit.

http://www.outofthefryingpan.com/recipes/chicken.beer.butt.shtml - "This chicken is the juiciest, most mouthwatering bird you'll ever try. I (Kev) also like the aspect of theater when you cook it, because it looks so damned weird on the grill, people will wonder what brand of crack you switched to."

*Real easy recipes for real busy, real people - not for fans of the UnReal Martha