kirmy
Well-Known Member
- Joined
- Jan 1, 2014
- Messages
- 748
I think we are all prone to self deception, me more so than most. A prime example of this blatant denial is sour dough bread. I actually heard myself say..."nawww this is ok, it is the fermentation process"! Oh you stupid stupid cow. What fermentation has to do with the Japanese Bullet Train of shit that rains down like napalm from above I will never know. It is stuff you say to convince yourself you aren't a lying twat. I'm a lying twat. Gluten is essentially violent arse flossing.
So today I thought I'd take the dogs and my flatmate to Tentsmuir beach in Fife ( Scotland for those of you not acquainted with my sweary self). For breakfast I had curry left overs on Sour Dough toast with cheese. Yes I am aware that I have just described a high colonic depth charger. To make matters worse it was lamb curry made with Mumma Gounders special spices aka blow your box off.
After my moronic repast we set off. I knew things were going south when I was lined up at the till waiting to pay for my organge juice and a fart came juggernauting through my colon only narrowly remaining contained by my superior pelvic floor control. We continued in to the beach however twat here forgot to break a £20 ( after BREXIT that's about $4.50) and couldn't get through the £2.00 boom gate to take the car down to the car park next to the beach. We had to park up and hike in with the three dogs in tow.
The majestic forrest arched over my baldy head as my colon bubbled and rolled like a leviathan waiting to snatch a flag ship to the bottom of the sea. I can wait as I hiked at high speed with my buttocks clamped shut like a Tarzan eating clam, walking from the knees down only. It was around a two mile hike in and once we were in to the forrest we had a hard time finding the beach. The bubbling subsided and we reached the quiet sandy expanse....for about five seconds before I started the determined death march into the trees again.
Now I have three dogs. One sane older Jack Russel, one bat shit insane broken car alarm/ neurotic lunatic Jack Russel and one occasionally psychotic female bulldog. These nutters followed me despite my yells to "piss the fuck off" and I crashed through the undergrowth tearing down my leggings as I went. I swear I unleashed something not out of place in the necronomicon. Meanwhile the bastard dogs triangulated my movement and bore down like exorcet missiles. I was showering shit and waving my arms behind me to repel the vile running dogs. I had four Kleenex tissues to mop up what was essentially Fukoshemia.
Myrtle my bulldog managed to bypass my hysterical thrashing to sample my vile stool sample. She looked thoughtful like she was picking out the notes of berry and woody under flavours. I was dry retching and flicking her lead at her while trying to stop my coat and purse from falling into my steaming turd pile. I may have been whimpering.
I made the saddest walk of stinky shame to the car, my arse Teflon coated and still permeating the heady aroma of long dead animals. Myrtle looked very self satisfied. I cannot make eye contact with her.
Don't lie to yourself. Your arse is the ultimate Jerry Springer lie detector test and the only person getting a shit kicking is you.
Now I'm going to roll into a tight ball and weep quietly. Don't eat gluten. Don't fucking eat gluten, do NOT eat gluten.
That is all.
So today I thought I'd take the dogs and my flatmate to Tentsmuir beach in Fife ( Scotland for those of you not acquainted with my sweary self). For breakfast I had curry left overs on Sour Dough toast with cheese. Yes I am aware that I have just described a high colonic depth charger. To make matters worse it was lamb curry made with Mumma Gounders special spices aka blow your box off.
After my moronic repast we set off. I knew things were going south when I was lined up at the till waiting to pay for my organge juice and a fart came juggernauting through my colon only narrowly remaining contained by my superior pelvic floor control. We continued in to the beach however twat here forgot to break a £20 ( after BREXIT that's about $4.50) and couldn't get through the £2.00 boom gate to take the car down to the car park next to the beach. We had to park up and hike in with the three dogs in tow.
The majestic forrest arched over my baldy head as my colon bubbled and rolled like a leviathan waiting to snatch a flag ship to the bottom of the sea. I can wait as I hiked at high speed with my buttocks clamped shut like a Tarzan eating clam, walking from the knees down only. It was around a two mile hike in and once we were in to the forrest we had a hard time finding the beach. The bubbling subsided and we reached the quiet sandy expanse....for about five seconds before I started the determined death march into the trees again.
Now I have three dogs. One sane older Jack Russel, one bat shit insane broken car alarm/ neurotic lunatic Jack Russel and one occasionally psychotic female bulldog. These nutters followed me despite my yells to "piss the fuck off" and I crashed through the undergrowth tearing down my leggings as I went. I swear I unleashed something not out of place in the necronomicon. Meanwhile the bastard dogs triangulated my movement and bore down like exorcet missiles. I was showering shit and waving my arms behind me to repel the vile running dogs. I had four Kleenex tissues to mop up what was essentially Fukoshemia.
Myrtle my bulldog managed to bypass my hysterical thrashing to sample my vile stool sample. She looked thoughtful like she was picking out the notes of berry and woody under flavours. I was dry retching and flicking her lead at her while trying to stop my coat and purse from falling into my steaming turd pile. I may have been whimpering.
I made the saddest walk of stinky shame to the car, my arse Teflon coated and still permeating the heady aroma of long dead animals. Myrtle looked very self satisfied. I cannot make eye contact with her.
Don't lie to yourself. Your arse is the ultimate Jerry Springer lie detector test and the only person getting a shit kicking is you.
Now I'm going to roll into a tight ball and weep quietly. Don't eat gluten. Don't fucking eat gluten, do NOT eat gluten.
That is all.
