Alright Mr. Peeping Tom--I am onto you.

Every time I head out to my tiny balcony to have a smoke (which is quite often as I am only in Virginia as a Consultant and am living in a boring corporate apartment) I hear your sliding glass door open below me.

Now, I think I have heard this for a while but didn't think much of it. After all, I am just now getting used to all of my corporate-apartment-complex sounds and people do, in fact, open their doors occasionally.

So, a few nights ago I notice this door-opening sound (as I am in my usual lounging attire of men's boxers and tank top with ummmmm... no undies) and thoughtfully think, 'Oh no--maybe the guy below me is bothered by my smoking..' so I look down through the deck slots and see you standing below me.....

LOOKING UP MY SHORTS.

After my head snaps up and (i'm pretty sure) my eyes bug out--I cannot believe what I have just seen so I lean over, squinting to try to focus through the narrow spaces, but you have darted (appropriate creepy word) back into your apartment.

WTF?!

My mind races to calculate exactly how many smokes I have had over the last 3 weeks (OMG) and how often I am wearing my lounging shorts with no undies (OMG, OMG)and how many times I have passed you on the sidewalk, smiled and said hello while carrying groceries (OMG, OMG, OMG) and all the while-- for some sick reason-- feeling totally mortified that I have not had a bikini wax in as long as I have been here. I catch myself actually feeling embarassed that YOU, creepy guy, might think that I have less-than-ideal grooming habits.

So thanks to you, Mr. Peeping Tom, I now have to wear underwear when I don't want to AND look like a jackass pinned against my wall with my legs clamped shut every time I want to poison my lungs.

Thanks a lot.
http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/wdc/186974929.html

 

I would have went out there naked, and pee'd on the ****er

 

hahaha, cop a squat and pee on the ****

 

I do bikini waxing! Can travel...

 

that's funny. Seriously....**** on the guy...but then again.....creep might dig that.

 

Okay obviously I still have areally boring job but oh well at least im laughing...


http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/min/181913550.html


I am a thirty-something who recently went back to college to finish my degree. Imagine my dismay when I walked in to that first classroom, and realized all the desks are made for jr. high students. You know the type; a chair with a platform for your books to rest on. Well, I am not a junior high student. I am the guy fat people hang around with when they want to look thin. I don’t just “take a seat”, I have to wedge myself in, and tuck my belly under the platform for the books. Generally, I can only get about one cheek on the chair.

One morning in class, after a night of cheap beer and tacos, I had a rumbling in my bowels that told me I had one massive fart brewing. I was trying to decide if I should try and hold it, or do a “one cheek sneak” and let it out, when my uptight, prim and proper professor called on me to answer a question. This is the worst timing in the world for this. I am trying to concentrate on the question at hand, while the rumbling in my gut turns into a legion of butt demons doing a whirling dervish in my colon, screaming for release. Then it happened: a chorus of ***-trumpet loud enough to bring down the walls of Jericho. I farted so hard it hurt. There was a burning/itching sensation that made me think I blew out my sphincter for good. The noise was amplified by the hard wooden seat on the desk. After the echoes died down, I looked up at my professor. She had a look on her face I will never forget. It was a look of complete shock, disgust, and revulsion.

And then the horror. The HORROR. I started….Laughing! Not just a chuckle or giggle, we’re talking, wild-hysterical-“stop or I’ll pee myself” laughter. And the more I laughed, the more I farted. By this point, there was a cloud of butt bouquet so thick you could taste it. Eyes tearing….nose burning….belly hurts from laughing…I had to get out of there. I needed an obscure corner of the world to curl up and die of embarrassment in. To make my humiliation complete, as I stood up and tried to extricate my gargantuan buttocks from the little desk, I got stuck. The desk was pasted to my *** like a bug on a windshield.

I HATE IT WHEN THIS HAPPENS!!!

 

bringing down the Walls of Jericho :rotfl: that ish is funny as hell!!!

 

buy a chair and sit down when you smoke. Then he wont be able to check out the bush.
That or when you open your door to smoke, accidently spill a huge bucket of water on his peeping a$$.

 

When you go out next time lay over the floor and stare right back at him through one of the slots. Usually freaks like that get off because they think the other person doesn't know they are watching so turn the table on him. If that still doesn't work kick the living **** out of him that always seems to be a good deterent.

 

oh my god...that fart deal is freaking heeeelarious.

haaa.

 

HAHAHAHA. The second one is funnier :P

 

Smoke inside!

 

I have just given up worrying about things like this.

If someone is going to sneak a peek at my tender, lightly breaded cat brains through my loosely fitting boxers, I just take it as a compliment.

 

This was great!
:rotfl:
:rotfl:

 

But what did it have to do with the issue at hand??? Not sure it will help our lady out in any way?