Poop Noodles

February 10, 2012

I am not one to regret saying things.

Sometimes, I do spit out a few words before I can mull them over, and on those occurrences, I do usually feel a fool for what I have said.

But, I am getting better about it. Recently, I’ve been choosing words carefully, especially in a heated argument with Lisa. She’s a doll, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t have any fight in her.

And usually, I have the common sense to stop myself before I make things worse.

Of course, fights with us are few and far between, so I don’t worry about that too much.

The only time I really regret saying something is now, 6:56 p.m. on Thursday, February 9, 2012.

Why? Because my greatest fear has attained life:

The repetitious, almost mantra-like chanting of disgusting words (used in the original context to annoy and disgust) have turned back on me, which is why I have to write about poop noodles.

You see, it started at C.J. Maggie’s. The challenge submitter and I were enjoying an evening of wings and cold beer with our respective significant others.

In an effort to offend, I brought up the concept of poop noodles.

Children should stop reading now.

A poop noodle occurs after anal sex. If the penetrator is not properly protected, the pounding might push the packed poop into the pee hole of the probing penis.

Then, when said penetrator pulls out and produces putrid pee from his prodding, pooped-up penis, the pee pushes puny pipes of putrid poop from the pee hole and the pile plops into the nearest poop chute.

Poop noodles. Pleasant, perhaps?

Not at all.

So, the rest of the night, the conversation was interspersed with poop noodle jokes and Samuel L. Jackson impressions.

The Samuel L. Jackson thing is completely unrelated to the poop noodle thing. Trust me.

And by planting the seeds (over and over again), my splendid, stringy poop noodle flower bloomed into an ominous tweet.

It simply read: “500 words on poop noodles.”

And the funny thing is, I got the tweet to my phone, which (as some of you might know) plays that sound from Inception, which is basically the aural definition of “ominous.”

I opened the message, swore a bit and realized that she had beaten me.

“Hoisted by my own petard,” as they say.

Of course, Lisa got a laugh out of it. She always does when Ashton and I best each other.

We all realized I had been beaten at my own game.

But, will this quell me? Never.

I’ll keep being me, taking the challenges as they come and doing what I can with them.

Clearly, I turned this into a slightly more enjoyable post than it could have been, but that’s really only because I don’t have any personal experience with poop noodles.

The real question is: Ashton, would you help me gain that experience?



This is not included in the 500 word limit.

“Thanks” to Ashton Cutright for the challenge.

I don’t think I really need to say much. It feels like the whole post was more like this part after the post than an actual post itself.

Still, I just can’t quell my lust for buttsex jokes.

Truly ghjr


2 Responses to “Poop Noodles”

  1. alex Says:

    Holy. Shit.

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