Oooooh..

Gotta love 'em!

2008-01-21T09:17:00.000-08:00

In a Tokyo Hotel:

Is forbidden to steal hotel towels please. If you are not a person to do such a thing please not to read notice.

In a Bucharest hotel lobby:

The lift is being fixed for the next day. During that time we regret that you will be unbearable.

In a Leipzig elevator:

Do not enter lift backwards, and only when lit up.

In a Belgrade hotel elevator:

To move the cabin, push button for wishing floor. If the cabin should enter more persons, each one should press a number of wishing floor. Driving is then going alphabetically by national order.

In a Paris hotel elevator:

Please leave your values at the front desk.

In a hotel in Athens:

Visitors are expected to complain at the office between the hours of 9 and 11 A.M. daily.

In a Yugoslavian hotel:

The flattening of underwear with pleasure is the job of the chambermaid.

In a Japanese hotel:

You are invited to take advantage of the chambermaid.

In the lobby of a Moscow hotel across from Russian Orthodox monastery:

You are welcome to visit the cemetary where famous Russian and Soviet composers, artists, and writers are buried daily except Thursday.

In an Austrian hotel catering to skiers:

Not to perambulate the corridors during the hours of repose in the boots of ascension.

On the menu of a Swiss restaurant:

Our wines leave you nothing to hope for.

On the menu of a Polish hotel:

Salad a firm's own make; limpid red beet soup with cheesy dumplings in the form of a finger; roasted duck let loose; beef rashers beaten up in the country people's fashion.

Outside a Hong Kong tailer shop:

Ladies may have a fit upstairs.

In a Bangkok dry cleaners:

Drop your trousers here for best results.

Outside a Paris dress shop:

Dresses for street walking.

In a Rhodes tailor shop:

Order your summers suit. Because is big rush we will execute customers in strict rotation.

From the Soviet Weekly:

There will be a Moscow Exhibition of Arts by 150,000 Soviet Republic painters and sculptors. These were executed over the past two years.

A sign posted in Germany's Black Forest:

It is strictly forbidden on our black forest camping site that people of different sex, for instance, men and women, live together in one tent unless they are married with each other for that purpose.

In a Zurich hotel:

Because of the impropriety of entertaining guests of the opposite sex in the bedroom, it is suggested that the lobby be used for this purpose.

In an advertisement by a Hong Kong dentist:

Teeth extracted by the latest Methodists.

In a Rome laundry:

Ladies, leave your clothes here and spend the afternoon having a good time.

In a Czechoslovakin tourist agency:

Take one of our horse-driven city tours - we guarantee no miscarriages.

Advertisement for donkey rides in Thailand:

Would you like to ride on your own ass?

In a Swiss mountain inn:

Special today -- no ice cream.

In a Bangkok temple:

It is forbidden to enter a woman even a foreigner if dressed as a man.

In a Tokyo bar:

Special cocktails for the ladies with nuts.

In a Copenhagen airline ticket office:

We take your bags and send them in all directions.

On the door of a Moscow hotel room:

If this is your first visit to the USSR, you are welcome to it.

In a Norwegian cocktail lounge:

Ladies are requested not to have children in the bar.

In a Budapest zoo:

Please do not feed the animals. If you have any suitable food, give it to the guard on duty.

In the office of a Roman doctor:

Specialist in women and other diseases.

In an Acapulco hotel:

The manager has personally passed all the water served here.

In a Tokyo shop:

Our nylons cost more than common, but you'll find they are best in the long run.

From a Japanese information booklet about using a hotel air conditioner:

Cooles and Heates: If you want just condition of warm in your room, please control yourself.

From a brochure of a car rental firm in Tokyo:

When passenger of foot heave in sight, tootle the horn. Trumpet him melodiously at first, but if he still obstacles your passage then tootle him with vigor.

Have a Happy Period!

2008-01-10T04:07:00.000-08:00

Dear Ms BirthPills,

Sanitary Napkin Companies are on this whole "have a happy period" kick. Now they put it on their products, you know on the little piece of paper that covers the adhesive side, in some nice little feminine script.

The nerve on that one...

Wait...I never thought of that...all this time, I've just decided to be bitchy, and bloated, and broken out, and crampy and in tears during my period, when all along i could've been having happy periods! On the beach in a bikini (maybe a teenie weenie yellow polka dot one), or in a coffee shop with my girlfriends who also have their period, but you wouldn't know it coz we're all just so fucking happy about it. Forget the fact that I'm bleeding like a slaughtered pig, that I now have to walk around wearing giant underwear, hoping I don't bleed on everything, that I'm already bloated but craving for french fries, potato chips, chocolate, cake...chocolate cake, not to mention the mother of all reasons, that I'm horny as fuck but can't get any.

You can fucking suggest the shit, why don't you give some pointers. Maybe it involves a whole lot of Valium.

Note to all the boyfriends/husbands/pervy high school teachers...it is not the best time to feel up her ASS when she's all crimson down there. It is sick, and not a lotus bloomer in ANY way, whatsoever. If it gives her another mood swing in the process, you might probably feel blinding pain in your precious gonads the very next minute.

Normally I would think that some dimwitted dick came up with that slogan, but no. I'm sure it was you. Yes, YOU, that high powered business woman in her navy blue skirt suit and stiletto pumps trying to show that she you make it in a mans world...I bet you doen't have happy periods, i bet you take fucking birth control year round so that you have no periods, so that instead of spending a week with premenstrual syndrome, a week on your period, another week with post menstrual syndrome and then another week dreading that in a weekyou're gonna be PMSing again you can have the time to come up with nifty slogans as if telling me to have a happy period is gonna make me buy your product more, like theres something extra special about your pad.
Guess what bitch, you've got a product that people are gonna buy whether u advertise for it or not... it's like gasoline, or toothpaste, or condoms..

If I lose my senses to come hunt you down, oh blue skirt lady, I'll shove all the happiness where
the sun don't shine.

Regards,
Your-HAPPY-HAPPY-CUSTOMER! :D :D :D :D
(Maybe now you can make AIDS a happy DISEASE!)

Oh i'm sorry alright...

2008-01-01T10:02:00.000-08:00

The Eskimos of the frozen North have 40 words for snow, but only ONE word for sex.
College kids of sunny Newport beach have forty words for sex, and NONE for snow.

Here's a guide to the most widely used term known to mankind - 'Sorry'

The Simple Sorry
Eye contact: Not required
Example: In case of unwanted physical contact, backing up, stepping on someone's foot...etc
Sample sentence: "Sorry, i didn't see you"
Actual meaning: "I'm in a hurry and you're in my way"

The Essential Sorry
Eye contact: optional
Example: When someone accidentally makes unwanted physical contact with you, or elbows you..
Sample sentence: "I'm sorry isn't this crown something?
Actual meaning: "How could you not see me? Are you blind? or just a jerk?

The Occupational Sorry
Eye contact: Fleeting
Example: When the phone rings in the middle of an informal meeting; used primarily when a co-worker desires your undivided attention..
Sample sentence: "I'm sorry, i really have to take this call"
Actual meaning: "I'd rather talk to an aluminum siding salesman"

The Subservient Sorry
Eye contact : Evasive
Example: when a client asks you for concessions, when a fellow classmate needs help with the math sum, when a customer asks you for help, finding the right size...
Sample sentence: "I'm sorry? Is there something wrong with the veal?
Actual meaning: "I'd like to stab you right through the eye with this olive fork"

The Libidinous Sorry
Eye Contact: constant
Example: While getting back home after an argument with the significant other
Sample sentence: "I'm sorry honey, I was wrong"
Actual meaning: "YOU'RE WRONG, I'M RIGHT, and im FUCKIN' tired of you shovin' me around, so I hope this change of tactics will lead to some 69 t'nite.

The Not-so-sorry Sorry
Eye contact: If necessary
Example: When you say something dumb, and then pretend you never said it, but then a reporter had their tape recorder running and now you're busted, and everyone you've EVER known is asking you to clarify your statement.
Sample sentence: "I'm...um..sorry..."
Actual sentence: "I'm not sorry for what i did, im just sorry i got caught. Tool."

The Sympathetic Sorry
Eye contact: constantly
Example: When a co-worker tell you he's been fired; or when the neighbor's annoying dog gets run over by a truck and then dragged nineteen blocks before he hits a outhouse full of explosives and bursts into seventeen thousand pieces.
Sample sentence: "I'm...so...sorry"
Actual meaning: "I'm SO DARN GLAD that this is happening to you!!! Hahahahahaha DIE.

The Authentic Sorry
Eye contact: Hard to say. Sorry
Examples:I'm sorry, cant really come up with any
Sample sentence: Who the fuck knows? Oh jeez, sorry bout the profanity.
Actual meaning: Some sort of expression of regret? Ooh thats a tough one. No idea. Sorry

And there you have it...your own personal step by step program to mastering the art of being an apologetic ass.

Wonder why i feel so Canadian right now...

O...

2007-12-22T10:15:00.000-08:00

“She faced me in awe. ´twas a token of ebony colour.
Embodied in faint vapour.
Wandering through April´s fire.
Compelled to grasp and to hold the one that was you.
I will endure, hide away. I would outrun the scythe, glaring with failure.
It is a mere destiny I thought, a threshold I had crossed before.
The rain was waving goodbye, and when the night came the forest folded its branches around me.
Something passed by, and I went into a dream.
She laughing and weeping at once: "take me away".
I don't know how or why, I’ll never know When.”

– April Ethereal

Blood sucking mood killers

2007-10-31T04:58:00.000-07:00

She's everywhere.
She's around you and you KNOW it.
She's a bitch

Bitch (bich) noun:

# A miserable person who sucks all joy and happiness out of life, and makes life a little less worth living by her consistently shitty attitude. When not complaining, her drama and gossip will fill the void. He or she (but usually she) refuses to do something with a group, and will forego hanging out with said group unless they're doing something she wants to do. She will put her interest ahead of others every single time, just for the sake of being a bitch.
"Hey guys, sorry we can't check out that cool new Brazilian restaurant, Janet is being a bitch."

# Hates fun

# A status you assume when you take one in the pooper while incarcerated.

# What you become when you fail at pool, bowling, Halo, english, math, Street Fighter Alpha, etc.

# Having to sit in the middle seat between two people in a car or plane.

# Being last in line to get cake or ice cream at a party.

# Crying and throwing a tantrum about something nobody gives a shit about, including you.
"I'm not going to give you $6 for my share of an $11 pizza when all I owe you is $5.50. I shouldn't have to pay extra, waaaaaah!"

#Having a high opinion of your looks and a sense of entitlement when people compliment you.

An obnoxious bitch people can't stand to be around. Normally, using the word I'm defining in the definition of said word wouldn't make sense, but I've read this sentence four times now, and I'll be damned if it's not crystal clear to me.

Shit

2007-09-16T08:00:00.000-07:00

A long, long time ago, they used to ship manure (containing largely feces) on boats around the mediterranian. Well, the cargo was always on the lowest deck. The problem was, the boats back then would be farely leaky, and water would get in. When water and manure mixed, it would produce a large amount of methane. Careless and unknowing crew members at night would carry torches, and if they went below deck with enough methane, the ship would explode. To solve this problem, they simply started shipping them above deck so any gas could go out into the atmosphere. To make sure this was done, manure-containers would be labelled with "S.H.I.T.". This of course, stands for "Ship High In Transit"

You don't get the shit unless you got the shit.
And if you want the shit you gots to flaunt the shit.
You gotta center the shit before you enter the shit.
Make sure you choose the shit before you use the shit.
'Cause if you abuse the shit, you gonna lose the shit.

[As for how it became a term for feces itself is beyond me...]

Phrases that make me want to kill you

2007-09-13T23:16:00.001-07:00

It takes one to know one:
Ever call someone a whore only to be countered with the bullet-proof come back: "well it takes one to know one"? You're basically saying "yes, I spread my legs for money, as do you." Good job Ms. Rotten-crotch, you've rebuked nothing. What difference does it make if the person calling you a slut is one as well? You're still a skanky bitch who charges money for hand jobs--and why the hell are you charging for a hand job anyway? Unless all your clients are paralyzed, any prostitute caught charging someone for a hand job should be sued for extortion. That's another reason prostitution should be legal: you can't really sue a prostitute for extortion if prostitution is illegal now can you wise ass?

I'm a child at heart:
Yeah, you're a child at heart, just as soon as children start going to work every day to rot in a cubicle for a meager pay check so they can drink their troubles away in a shitty bar for the rest of their lives. Unless you're an astronaut, secret agent, vampire hunter, or all three, you're probably a sellout; screw you. Nobody wanted to be a regional director of sales or an investment banker when they were kids. On top of that, nobody thinks you're cute or funny by stating you're a "child at heart" on your stupid online profile that you created because you're a boring middle-aged loser with sagging tits and yellow nails who survives off greasy TV dinners every night as you contemplate the exact moment your life became such a miserable shit hole. But hey, don't take my word for it. After all, passing by "Cartoon Network" as you're flipping through channels technically makes you a "child at heart." Either that or the world's oldest virgin.

Sorry, but (also known as "No offense, but"):
Girls usually say this when they think they're being clever: "sorry, but you're a moron." It's a phrase derived from the expression people use when they're breaking some bad news to an old friend: "I'm sorry to say this, but the results are back and... you're an idiot." The only problem is, they never intend to say it with such eloquence, but rather, they use the phrase like it's a blunt object, hammering their square insult through your round psyche. If you think someone's an idiot, just come out and say it without these pussy apologies you dumb hag. Unless you're a character in a fighting game, have big boobs, and just won the round with a bitch slap, saying "sorry" just before you insult someone is obnoxious, cut the bullshit.

Strangers are just friends waiting to happen:
Yeah, either that or rape in a dark alley waiting to happen.

Hmmmmm / Uhhhhh:
Next time you ask someone a question, look for the trademark sign of an idiot: the "hmmmmm" noise they make while they're thinking. It's especially noticeable when you go to a restaurant and the waitress asks what you want to drink; there's always some fickle fingered asshole thumbing through the menu, sounding off like a moron with "uhhhhhh...." as if the waitress is just going to walk away without taking your order if you don't give her an audible cue that you are still breathing. These are the same type of people who repeat the question you ask them to buy time when they don't know the answer, hoping you won't notice that they're stalling. YOU DONT SEEM TO MAKE A SOUND WHILE YOUR FIVE GOOD NEURONS CRANK OUT THE NEXT MALFORMED SENTENCE FROM YOUR CRETACEOUS SKULL, NUMB NUTS.

Some of the best things in life are free:
Yeah? Well so are some of the worst, and I don't see anyone throwing a party when they get cancer.

Less is more:
Except when it comes to money, fame, and power.

The grass is always greener on the other side:
If the grass is greener on the other side, then the guy with the greener grass doesn't think your grass is greener now does he, asshole? The message that this proverb is trying to stumble through is that everything always looks more attractive when you don't have it. I'm sure there are millionaires crying themselves to sleep every night because they don't live in a trailer park. Just face it: sometimes nobody envies you. There has to be a bottom and that bottom is probably you.

[Several phrases have been excluded from this list to stabilize my blood pressure]

EAT MY SKIRT

2007-09-11T00:14:00.000-07:00

This is an unedited clip from an actual anti-smoking brochure. I'm going to assume Mike is the fat one, and the other kid's name is Jerry. Here's how I envision the conversation went immediately after Mike's confession:

Mike: I think my parents would be very disappointed if I ever smoked.

Jerry: Hey, thanks for sharing your feelings with me Mike. Smoking's totally not cool. I'm glad we feel the same way.

Mike: Really?

Jerry: No, limp dick! I'm going to light up a fat blunt and then I'm going to rape your mouth!

1,655,361 people have a skewed perception of reality due to their inability to
recognize subtle corporate propaganda.

Thank you and have a nice day..

Turd.

Pseudo Science?

2007-09-04T08:12:00.000-07:00

"she would spank me and hit me for getting up and then to teach me a lesson she would make me lay down on the bed on the top bunk and then get a belt and tie my arms up over my head with a belt to keep me in bed. Lily had to come help me.
Mom even drank out of the toilet and dog dish. Shes not retarded but she was soo scared of making a noise and she got so thirsty that she drank out of the dog dish and tolit so no one would hear her. I dont understand why mom hated us so much. we never did anything to her. maybe we were just born bad. why are we bad. we bad. i love you ma, but you hurt me bad"

Pages from late Amy's diary...treated like an untouchable and shun by her own father as she faced the tyranny of cancer, and lived with her mother suffering from DID (Dissociative Identity Disorder)

This is what the world has come to, and we talk of global warming being the major concern?.. Ha..

Shameful, is what it is..

Senses..

2007-09-04T07:28:00.000-07:00

You hold the answers deep within your own mind.
Consciously, you've forgotten it.
That's the way the human mind works.
Whenever something is too unpleasant, to shameful for usto entertain, we reject it.
We erase it from our memories.
But the imprint is always there.
Can't wash it all away
Can't Wish it all away
Can't hope it all away
Can't cry it all away
The pain that grips you
The fear that binds you
Releases life in meIn our mutual
Shame we hide our eyes
To blind them from the truth
That finds a way from who we are
Please don't be afraid
When the darkness fades away
The dawn will break the silence
Screaming in our hearts
My love for you still grows
This I do for youBefore I try to fight the truth my final time
We're supposed to try and be real.
And I feel alone, and we're not together.
And that is real
Hold and speak to me
Of love without a sound
Tell me you will live through this
And I will die for you
Cast me not away
Say you'll be with me
For I know I cannot bear it all alone

You're not alone, never... never
But the imprint is always there.
Nothing is ever really forgotten.
Please don't hate me, because I'll die if you do...

[evanescence - understanding]

And you thought poop stories were fun...

2007-07-20T02:23:00.000-07:00

I LOVE public toilets ! Specially, the one in the malls. With the shiny floor tiles and the squishy soap container, to the hand drying machine that makes a cheery noise.

BUT...i hate people who find the need to use their stupid little electronic piece of device which rings like a freakin fire truck.

Yes. Mobile Phones.

I mean WHY wouldnt you put it on the silent mode or something when ur doing your business? IT COULD BE LETHAL FOR ALL YOU KNOW !! Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

And it had to happen on the worst day my stomach chose to torment me. I headed to one of those oh-so-flashy restrooms across Wimpy's.

Except the second door, the rest were occupied, so i had no choice.
I trudged back, entered, dropped my trousers and sat down. I wasn’t happy about being next to the occupied stall. Just so you know, I am normally a shameful shitter. I was just getting ready to bear down when all of a sudden this alarming noise came from next door, followed by a fumbling, and then the sound of a voice answering the ringing phone. As usual for a cell phone conversation, the voice was exactly 8 dB louder than it needed to be. The inane conversation went on and on. Mrs. shitter was blathering to Mr. shitter about the shitty day she had.

I sat there, cramping and miserable, waiting for her to finish. As the loud conversation dragged on, I became angrier and angrier, thinking that I, too, had a crappy day, but I was too polite to yak about in public. My ass let me know in no uncertain terms that if I didn’t get crapping soon, my day would be getting even crappier. Finally my anger reached a point that overcame Shamefulness. I no longer cared. I gripped the toilet paper holder with one hand, braced my other hand against the side of the stall, and pushed with all my might. I was rewarded with a fart of colossal magnitude — a cross between the sound of someone ripping a very wet bed sheet in half and of plywood being torn off a wall. The sound gradually transitioned into a heavily modulated low-RPM tone, not unlike someone firing up a Harley. I managed to hit the resonance frequency of the stall, and it shook gently. Once my ass cheeks stopped flapping in the breeze, three things became apparent:
(1) The next-door conversation had ceased
(2) my colon’s continued seizing indicated that there was more to come
(3) the bathroom was now beset by a horrible, eldritch stench.
It was as if a gateway to Hell had been opened. The foul miasma quickly made its way under the stall and began choking my poop-mate. This initial “herald” fart had ended her conversation in mid-sentence. “Oh my God,” I heard her utter, following it with suppressed sounds of choking, and then, “No, baby, that wasn’t me (cough, gag), you could hear that (gag)??” Now there was no stopping me. I pushed for all I was worth. I could swear that in the resulting cacophony of rips, squirts, splashes, poots, and blasts, I was actually lifted slightly off the pot. The amount of stuff in me was incredible. It sprayed against the bowl with tremendous force. Later, in surveying the damage, I’d see that liquid poop had actually managed to ricochet out of the bowl and run down the side on to the floor. But for now, all I could do was hang on for the ride. Next door I could hear her fumbling with the paper dispenser as she desperately tried to finish her task. Little shittles of conversation made themselves hear over my shit symphony: “Gotta go… horrible… throw up… in my mouth… not… make it… tell the kids… love them… oh God…” followed by more sounds of suppressed gagging and retching. Alas, it is evidently difficult to hold one’s phone and wipe one’s bum at the same time. Just as my high-pressure abuse of the toilet was winding down, I heard a plop and splash from next door, followed by string of swear words and gags. My shit-mate had dropped her phone into the toilet. There was a lull in my production, and the restroom became deathly quiet. I could envision her standing there, wondering what to do. A final announcement came trumpeting from my behind, small chunks plopping noisily into the water. That must have been the last straw. I heard a flush, a fumbling with the lock, and then the stall door was thrown open. I heard her running out of the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. After a considerable amount of paperwork, I got up and surveyed the damage. I felt bad for the janitor who’d be forced to deal with this, but I knew that flushing was not an option. No toilet in the world could handle that unholy mess. Flushing would only lead to a floor flooded with filth. As I left, I glanced into the next-door stall. Nothing remained in the bowl. Had she flushed her phone, or had she plucked it out and left the bathroom with nasty unwashed hands? The world will never know. I exited the bathroom, momentarily proud and shameless, looking around for a face glaring at me. But I saw no one. I suspect that somehow my supernatural elimination has managed to transfer my Shamefulness to my anonymous shit-mate. I think it’ll be a long time before she can bring herself to shit in public — and I doubt she’ll ever again answer her cell phone in the toilet.

And that, my friends, is why you should never talk on your phone in the bathroom.

Phew.

I should just stop talking to myself..

2007-07-20T01:41:00.000-07:00

MAN i had this sudden urge to question myself over and over again...so all the voices in my head jumped right in. Damn...

I should just stop talking to myself :

Hence the question: Is blood really salty?

the invariable answers... [courtesy : FREAKIN LOUD VOICES IN MY HEAD]

some people's it depends
I should just stab my finger.
I think maybe it's more salt from the skin
Mine is more coppery...or is it irony ?
My skin's not very salty, unless I am sweating.
Mine is kind of umami-sweet, I think...with overtones of copper penny.
Now I wonder
maybe it's not salty
maybe fiction has lead me astray
Mine is metallic and sweet
Maybe vampires bite a lot of sweaty people
I think of it as seaweedy.
I wonder if I know what seaweed tastes like.
I bet you would have algae tanks on a generation ship.
I wish I still had some clean razorblades. I would check.
Yeah, I was just thinking I don't have a clean enough needle.
What we do for our art.
I can never draw blood with a needleETA
*goes to stab finger*

see, the stabbing hurts me way more than slicing
I'd much rather slice my arm
I'll stab my wrist instead, really
I still have a nice scar from high school.
oh, found a razorblade
I'm not bleeding well, dammit.
stupid platelets.
I could just shave my legs.
that would no doubt result in blood.
that always works for me
I think I am settling on seaweedy and metal-sweet.
the internets think it's umami-sweet-metallic
I think this razor is dull
or I really suck at this
We fail self-injury

yes

I lose at the blood-letting
Nobody thinks blood is salty.
vampire fiction lies.
oh woes
I'm going to blame this on the razor
But I can probably use it to take off my old flaking window stickers. I'll surely cut myself doing that

Solutions...solutions....

p.s: if you DID go through the whole thing... i love you :o

Holy cow...

2007-07-15T03:15:00.000-07:00

Question : "I er...mom... i plan on getting a..a..*cough* tattoo *cough*it..its a jade dragon..and its very... its like a sign on individuality, you know..."

The answer i expected:
" *excited* Wow !! Lets go check out the patterns on the internet...

The answer i got:
" *gasp*...are you out of your bloody mind? You're too young to get something permanently stamped on your back.. I dont know..talk to your father"

Damn them traditional mindsets...

Blasphemous i tell you...
utterly UTTERLY unacceptable..
tch..