Is sexual deviance that widespread or are wierdos just extra loud about it?

The Something Awful Forums > Archives > General Bullshit > Is sexual deviance that widespread or are wierdos just extra loud about it?

Izumi Konata: May 4, 2012; by Ralp

ObamaCaresHugSquad posted:

Closer isnt even the word..we are never any further away or closer at any point in time. Distance is irrelevant.

then time is as well.

nice midlife crisis, your meltdown is realer than a whole case of 211 bought with loose change @ teh 7-eleven. im with u on your posts at least.

# ¿ Aug 8, 2014 01:11

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# ¿ Apr 28, 2024 06:42

Izumi Konata: May 4, 2012; by Ralp

Trixie Hardcore posted:

The same handful of people show up in every political thread, every trans thread, every fat thread, every Doobie thread, every webcomic thread, etc.

there following u :twisted:

# ¿ Aug 8, 2014 01:56

Izumi Konata: May 4, 2012; by Ralp

Cream_Filling posted:

this is because those are the only people posting in gbs anymore

the forums are dyin cloud...

dyne done did died, barret. did he done finded dat terminal station for this train wes be ridin' on, massah?

# ¿ Aug 8, 2014 02:08

Izumi Konata: May 4, 2012; by Ralp

ZergRushing posted:

You're a loving creep and literally represent why no one should ever post their personal info online. You might fit in as an employee for the NSA at least!

he actually is

# ¿ Aug 8, 2014 02:38

Izumi Konata: May 4, 2012; by Ralp

Novo posted:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w2LtErnNvK0

It all started as a harmless prank. But the law of unintended consequences snowballed into blind accusations, employees being threatened with firings, and a tale that is still being told years afterwards to new hirelings. And, most importantly, a lesson in moral responsibility for me to live up to.

Our story begins the week after Super Bowl XXXIX. I was working the night shift at an industrial factory and getting pretty bored at my job. One of the things I do to relieve that feeling is to come up with hare-brained schemes to entertain myself and maybe others.

For a while, I had been toying around with the idea of leaving some poop in the urinal. I remember going into a movie theatre restroom years before and seeing some urinal poop. It always fascinated me because I wondered: why someone would crap in a urinal? Were they drunk? Were all the stalls taken? Were they new to this country and didn't know what urinals were? It gave me a good laugh at the time, and I felt it would be noble of myself to spread good cheer and happiness to my fellow co-workers.

So one night, after getting back from Jack-in-the-Box on my lunch break, I had about ten minutes left before I had to get back to work when I suddenly had the urge to poop. Now, I always thought about how I would go about doing this prank. I couldn't pull down my pants and squat on the urinal, because what if someone would've walked in on me? But as I sipped the last of the Sprite, inspiration struck me: my drink cup!

I walked into the restroom with my drink and nary a co-worker in sight. So far, so good.

I went into the furthest stall. I emptied the ice into the toilet. Then, ever so carefully, I squatted over the toilet, holding the empty cup just a few inches below my rear end. However, I miscalculated the angle to hold it ; the first log skimmed the cup's rim and fell into the toilet. drat! So I tried again, this time getting a nice little morsel dead center on the bottom. It wasn't anything to brag about. Just a little four-inch chunk, a leftover from its departed brethren. But I didn't have any more to squeeze out and I wanted to make it quick.

So far, no one had come into the bathroom. I wiped myself and flushed the toilet. Upon exiting the stall, and hearing no one coming around the corner to the restroom, I dumped the little gift into one of the urinals.

Quickly I threw the cup into the trashcan, covered it with some towels to hide the evidence, and walked briskly out of there. No witnesses. No evidence. And a turd in the urinal. The perfect crime!

I went back to work, business as usual; and for about two hours, nothing happened. Then our shift manager, Ramon, announced a shop floor meeting. I was pretty sure I knew what it was about, and my psychic senses were right. After everyone gathered around his desk, he announced with authority: "Some person here defecated in the urinal. This is absolutely disgusting. I can't believe someone would do this. If you know who did it or have any information, get back to me and let me know right away."

I wasn't too worried because the boss didn't seem too upset, more so upset out of principle; and besides, no witnesses. And he really didn't make too big of a deal out of it -- he was just a little pissed.

The next night I came in, and people were talking. Most of them were amused. "Why would anybody poo poo in the urinal?" one asked ponderously. Another co-worker remarked, with all honesty and understanding, "Maybe all the stalls were full and he really had to go." We all had a good laugh picturing some desperate gopher-holing it to his nearest available depository. "At least it wasn't the sink." While I shared my laughs with my friends, I laughed harder inside knowing the culprit walked amongst them.

Then this matter all went to poo poo. Literally. At the end of that shift, around six AM, there was an announcement over the loudspeaker. "All third-shift employees report to the break room for a meeting." What? Another meeting? Nah, this must be about overtime or changing vacation permissions or something...

I entered the break room. Everyone sat down at the tables and I noticed the factory manager -- my boss's boss -- Jim, with a stern look and some papers he was holding. Total Type A personality, an rear end in a top hat. You know the type.

He spoke in a thunderous, angry voice: "Some disgusting sick human being just took a poo poo in the urinal here!" Uh oh. He was getting red-faced, he was swearing, and he was completely unlike the cool, professional persona of Ramon. He was a MAN, personally offended. "How dare they take a poo poo in my house?! MY HOUSE! This person just poo poo on all of us! They think this company is nothing more than crap and that is what they are telling us!" His anger was building. The vein on his forehead was beginning to bulge.

Then he started passing out the paper he was holding. It was a picture of my poop in the urinal. Apparently he had the fine idea of photographing it with a digital camera. He tells us: "Look at what this person did." People looked at the picture, some with disgust, others with no emotion, and passed it on to the next person. I carefully studied the reactions of others to best gauge how I should do mine. As much as I was nervous, I kept my cool. I received the paper, looked at it for three seconds, grimaced, and passed it to the person next to me.

Then he threatened. "Whoever did this, we will find you. We are going to do DNA testing and find out what sick person did this and they are going to be fired!" The tone of his voice indicated he was completely freaking serious. As much as this guy was known for being irate, I have NEVER seen him get so worked up before. I knew this "harmless prank" really crossed the line with him and I actually started feeling guilty about it. I just wanted to make people laugh and talk... I didn't want to give my boss a heart attack!

After the meeting was over, some people were somber, others jovial and entertained. "DNA testing? What, he's gonna make us all poo poo in a container?" they laughed. I laughed too, knowing the futility (and legal problems and cost) of getting everyone tested for DNA. Besides, if they were going to test the poop for DNA, that would mean they would have to freeze it to preserve the specimen. What, is my "evidence" safely stored in a Zip-Loc bag in the corporate break room's freezer? Yet, with Jim being so irate, and a man of action, who's to say what lengths he wouldn't go to catch the perpetrator? Suddenly I felt like Jean Valjean pursued by Javert in Les Miserables.

And yet, it was about to get even worse. Apparently my friend Adam called in sick to work the day of Jim's meeting, making him the only one absent. Soon, baseless rumors spread that it was Adam who did it. He intentionally missed the meeting, they claimed! Besides, the turd was rather small and Adam is a skinny 120 pounds, and only something like that would come from him. And plus, he's kinda crazy and would do it! It was Adam! It must be Adam! Everyone was talking.

It got all the way up to upper management. Adam was called into the HR office. Ellen, the HR lady, flat-out said to him, with a serious face: "Why did you defecate in the urinal?" She didn't ask him IF he did it -- she asked him WHY he did it. He vehemently denied being the donor of the gift. They pressed him further, trying to make him confess. He responded back saying he would get a lawyer if needed. They let him go.

I felt really bad for Adam, since he was a good friend and an innocent caught in the paranoid crossfire. But at the same time, I couldn't confess, since I would lose my job and my friendship. I did my best to help him. I reassured him they couldn't fire him because they had no evidence, and even if they did, he could sue them and win easily.

Fortunately, the whole thing blew over. No DNA testing was done. No one was fired. All that was left was some good laughs and some company lore. But, to be honest, I still felt bad knowing that I unintentionally pissed off my boss Jim to such a degree and for it to go so far as to threaten a friend's job. After some careful introspection, I realize why I don't poop in urinals anymore.

And as much as I feel bad for my friend getting the blame, I admit I'm amused every time someone mentions the urinal poop story and says, "Yeah, Adam did it." I try my best to hold my laughter when one person sees Adam goes by and says to another, "That's the guy that poo poo in the urinal!" At least Adam is cool with it. It doesn't really faze him. He always denies it's him, but at least he can laugh about the whole thing.

And like I said, it's now a part of company lore. A little while back I was talking to some temporary workers who were on the job for about two weeks and one of them brought up the urinal poop story. Funny how they've been here for a little time and already heard the story. "Man, what kind of sick bastard..." the temp said.

"Yeah," I replied. "What kind of sick bastard..." But there was a twinkle in my eye.

For years, people have been talking about the incident and getting a good laugh over it. So in a way, I did what I was meant to accomplish. And I got away with it scot-free. I'm glad to have amused others. I'm glad to have given them stories to tell to newbs. And even though I may have pissed off my boss and almost got my friend fired and given him a sordid reputation (more so), in the end, no one was really hurt.

And maybe it's poetic justice, but last month I was laid off from that company. Adam still works there. But even though I may be gone, my little precious turd I left in the urinal so many years ago lives on the memories of all the workers still there. People may forget me a couple years from now, but they won't forget the turd.

The turd is my legacy. My legacy is my turd.

# ¿ Aug 8, 2014 03:49

Izumi Konata: May 4, 2012; by Ralp

the author is a deviant, but a single turd of his stands as a legacy, inshallah

# ¿ Aug 8, 2014 04:02

Izumi Konata: May 4, 2012; by Ralp

Mulefisk posted:

realtalk, how can i get my girl to start mashing plastic penises into my bum

insist she is a unique snowflake and let her know she is a round peg (symbolically) who should never be crammed into a square hole. embrace her while patting her back for about ten seconds then look away, pause, and exit through the door. return immediately with a harnessed dildo in a gift box. tell her you are her round hole, then embrace her while squeezing her buttocks, you courageous sick bastard

# ¿ Aug 8, 2014 19:55

Izumi Konata: May 4, 2012; by Ralp

Cream_Filling posted:

the guys into financial bondage or whatever thats called will always be hilarious to me

the etymology behind the words "bond" (particularly in respect to bricklaying) and "real" (regarding a fixed state) provide great insight into the true nature of the beast and the mother of all harlots.

# ¿ Aug 9, 2014 19:26

Izumi Konata: May 4, 2012; by Ralp

Trixie Hardcore posted:

Was there a time limit for me to respond to oval office raja? Anyhow, as I was saying about my vagina...

Let's make cupcakes with our period blood & brainstorm ways to get boys to retweet our humorous tweets.

Goons are really prudish, it's odd but I guess if you aren't allowed to like thing & sex is a thing you will end up with goons too cool for sex and sundry social interaction.

u remind me of a certain currency inflation fetishist, but why would a goon need more than a single pair of accounts?

# ¿ Aug 9, 2014 22:43

Izumi Konata: May 4, 2012; by Ralp

ObamaCaresHugSquad posted:

This whole thread would not exist to 16+ pages if people felt remorse. Sorry. Lots of sexual activity is taking advantage of other people's (willing) weaknesses for your own sexual gratification (or hoping someone will take advantage of yours). Everyone knows it but few can own up to it. Just admit we're all pleasure addicts running from pain and drop the pretenses. But maybe I just need therapy I'd probably get them to quit their job and become a gardener if I had long enough.

impulsive behavior is the trademark characteristic trait of an rc drone.

imagine a raspberry pi holding a detailed db of protocol, a remote input module, and an iv holding a chambered array of needles dispensing any myriad combination of cocktails containing a caustic series of serotonin, oxytocin, dopamine, and cyanide cartridges. imagine three prongs fed into your cerebellum from beneath your rattail causing you to post so terribly from one of your throwaway accounts. *claps hands*

who is mother bird?

Izumi Konata fucked around with this message at 00:05 on Aug 10, 2014

# ¿ Aug 10, 2014 00:03