Imagine if you will, a room as big as an auditorium. A room with thirty six, 25,000 gallon tanks. Those 36 tanks holding 900,000 gallons of poop, pee, condoms, used tampons, and anything else that gets flushed down the toilet. (I swear I saw my old gold fish, surfing on a stayfree) Inside the tanks there was also some sort of poop eating bacteria. The bacteria needed oxygen to live so the tanks had oxygenators(Kinda like a fish tank but a lot bigger, and with poop). So, we are in a room of bubbling Shakespeare, looking at doors. All of which are metal and are rusted to the brink of falling apart. Sam looks at me and says, "You see anything wrong with this door? Cause, I sure don't." Putting all morality aside, I agreed with him and we moved on.

The next stop was a place Sam called, the "Corn" room. This was a building all by it self with a medium sized roll up door. A chute led to the top of the roof. Inside this building was an ordinary dumpster, the kind you find behind any chinese restaurant. Inside this dumpster; Corn, rice, all the stuff your body doesn't digest. If you had seen what I saw, you would have added some undigested food to the dumpster. I did just that. But, not before I got my mask off. I sat in the truck until Sam was done. He laughed all the way to the shop. They laughed at the shop. I never volunteered again.


Here is my challenge: Top that!

That's disgusting.


I spent an entire summer dissecting cadavers for $10 an hour. They were to be used as models for the incoming medical school class.

I smelled like formaldehyde the entire summer. I couldn't seem to get the smell off of my skin or hair, no matter how many times I showered. It did wonders for my love life.

Most of the time that I worked, I was alone in the gross anatomy lab. With about ten cadavers. Sometimes I managed to freak myself out by imagining all of the bodies coming to life and chasing me.

That job sucked.

Shelle, one of my best friends from a while back (I lost him in my divorce) went to mortician school, and they had to practice on donated cadavers. He said the skin texture was just like bologna.

Just hearing that - well, I've never had a bologna sammich since.

Yeah, I make 'em with dead hooker hands now.

My friend Sam and I were once down on our luck and had to come up with 50 grand , so our ailing father could get a heart transplant. We started a revenge-for-hire business called "Dirty Work" and got into all types of hijinx. We used skunks, an army of prostitutes, homeless men, a noseless friend, brownies with hallucinogenic additives to ruin the opening night of an opera sponsored prominently by our slumlord. In the end we were able to get the money and give it to the doctor to pay off his gambling debt.



Yeah, well, it wasn't very funny when Norm Mcdonald did it either.

I didn't even tell you about the second time I was told to go there.

The second time was pretty much like the first one. I did the rounds with Sam. I quickly agreed that the doors in the poop room looked OK. I didn't get real close to the corn dumpster. We then finished the rounds.(the ones I didn't finish last time because I blew chunks all over myself)

I thought we were done. Sam says to me, "One more door Bill". So I follow him. Down we went, into some kind of tunnel thing. There was a long corridor of metal grating. There was water flowing beneath the grates. Sam said, "The door is at the end of that corridor. Go check it out. There is never anything wrong with it anyway"

Down the metal grates I walked. I saw a bunch of side corridors where water was flowing into the river below my feet. At one point, The center of the room I presumed, 2 of the side corridors faced a prefect 90 degrees perpendicular to the hall I was walking down. At the exact time my foot crossed the plane of where those two corridors converged with mine, I hit a wall. No science fiction here, this was a wall off smell. This smell was so rank, so heart stoppingly putrid, I got dizzy. I staggered sideways, grabbing the rail. I came within a hairs breadth of falling over the rail into the river. Gagging, hardly able to breathe, I turned to flee that horrid smell. Standing there, not more than 10 feet back was Sam. Sam was clutching the rail also. Not from dizziness, not from gagging, Sam was laughing. Sam was laughing so hard he almost fell over. I found out later, that, that is where all the waste comes into the plant. I also found out, there was no door at the end of the hall.

Everyone laughed.
It warped me
I'm now on Zug.

As for me, I worked at a beauty salon and had a bikini wax scheduled.

And then your mom came in.


*Not aimed at you Mr. Squirrel, just a random shot!

*Not aimed at you Mr. Squirrel, just a random shot!


The fact that, you feel you need to say that, PRICELESS!

In college my friend Ryan went through a phase where he stopped peeing in toilets and started peeing in old soda, water, and gatorade bottles. The theory was that he was saving himself a trip upstairs only when he really had to pee, but he lived in a ranch-style house so there were roughly three four stairs and he had a dozen or so bottles, some of the 2-liter variety.

After a nasty break-up with this girl I asked if I could have one of his bottles to dump on and in her car. He obliged and drove me to scene of the crime.

I got out, dumped the fermented piss all over her car, and hopped back in Ryan's. I grabbed my bottled water, which was now suspiciously warm, and realized I had just given my ex an Aquafina car wash. As Ryan whipped a u-turn the bottle o' piss slid out of my hands and onto the floor of his car. The smell was what I would guess piss might smell like after stewing for a few weeks in a Mountain Dew bottle: it was enough to cause two men, one of whom was driving, to vomit out their windows at 30mph.

We spent the next hour at the car wash spraying down the inside of his 1980 Toyota.

my friend Ryan went through a phase where he stopped peeing in toilets and started peeing in old soda, water, and gatorade bottles

Just when I think I'm getting close to finally understanding men, I read something like that and realize that I may be seriously overestimating just how complicated they are.