You know you’ve pooed. There’s poo on the toilet paper, but not in the
toilet. Where is it?
So slick and easy you don’t even feel it. No trace of poo on the
toilet paper. You have to look in the toilet to be sure you did it.
This has the consistency of hot tar. You wipe twelve times and you
still don’t come clean. You end up putting toilet paper in your
underwear so you don’t soil it. Permanent skid marks are left in the
Second Thoughts Poo:
You’re all done wiping and about to stand up when you realize…
there’s more to come.
Pop a Vein in Your Forehead Poo:
This is the kind of poo that killed Elvis. It doesn’t want to come out
until you’re all sweaty, trembling, and purple from straining so hard.
Weight Watchers Poo:
You poo so much you lose several pounds.
Right Now Poo:
You’d better be within thirty seconds of a toilet. You burn rubber to
get there and it usually gets its head out before you can get your
King Kong Poo:
This one is so big you think it won’t go down the toilet unless you
break it into smaller chunks. A wire coat hanger usually works well.
This kind of poo usually happens when you’re at someone else’s house.
Also known as “floaters.” Even after the third flush it’s still there,
floating in the bowl. My God! How do I get rid of it?
Wet Cheeks Poo:
This poo hits the water sideways and makes a bigger splash than the
launching of the QE2, soaking your starfish.
You sit there all cramped up and fart a few times, but no poo.
Cement Block Poo:
You wish you’d got a spinal block before you pooed.
This poo is fairly soft, about as thick as your thumb and at least
three feet long.
Morning After Poo:
Happens the day after the night before. Normally your poo doesn’t
smell that bad, but THIS one… Usually you’re at someone else’s house
(normally a girl you’re trying to impress) and they’re waiting outside
to use the bathroom.
Mexican Food Poo:
Also called “screamers.” You know it’s safe to eat again when your bum
Boo Hoo Poo:
Makes you cry with pain and wonder whether your should risk the
stitches or go for the fuller figure.
I took a manufacturing job back in August with a new company. Suffice to say I'd rather not say, but if I did happen to say, you'd recognize the name immediately. It's a Fortune 500, but not the Walmart, Amazon, McDonald's kind, so yeah, we're playing in the majors.
My career trajectory has had a few interesting turns. Previous to '95 I was a job butterfly. I flitted around from job to job, some good, some bad, but never stayed anywhere for any significant amount of time. One year I went through 10 different employers, and never once during those days did I ever go on unemployment or welfare. Jobs came easy for me, and I always paid my way.
Back in '95 I landed a position as a Robotics Technician for a company controlled by General Motors... But I didn't actually work for GM. I absolutely love robots. I had that job for about two years, but things started getting rather dicey around there, so I got out. Good thing too, because they went out of business less than 6 months later.
So in '97 I took a job at a plastics company. At first I couldn't believe I had found such an amazing place. The pay was nothing to write home about, but the work was easy, the environment was laid back, the coworkers were great, the benefits were decent, and the 3rd shift hours worked well for me. After a few years I was even able to buy a house, but 9-11 happened less than a month later and everything was different.
The aftermath left me feeling a bit gutted, and I wanted to do something. While still working at the plastics company I joined the Army Reserves back in the fall of 2005. It's something I look back on fondly, but I really think it was a major mistake on my part both financially and physically. Other than being able to say I was there, I gained no benefit from that experience. After 6 years I got out. Two years later my honorable discharge arrived in the mail. That's all I have to say about that.
Back to the plastics company where I was still employed: Over the years things changed. The benefits dwindled, the hours grew longer, the pace grew more frantic, a lot of coworkers retired and/or died, and while I eventually ended up in a leadership role, I felt something was very wrong. So I got a job working for Amazon delivery.
Yeah, but I never actually made it to Amazon. A head hunter caught my resume and saw robotics and plastics. I was a perfect fit for this tier 1 auto supplier, and the money was actually really good. I was on track to pay off all my old debts in under two years but 10 months later I bought a new car, and a few months after that things started going off the rails. They fired a bunch of people that shouldn't have been fired and it started a chain reaction. People were already overworked, so the resignations started piling in. On top of that, they were increasing monthly insurance premiums by $250! Suddenly this wasn't looking like a place I wanted to be anymore, so my resignation was about to be added to that pile.
But before I left, I started putting out job applications on Indeed, and wouldn't you know it, I got a lot of responses. Some good, some bad, but then there was this one response from a long shot. I honestly didn't believe it at first. They reached out again, but I thought it was just some automated form they send to everyone who clicked. After the 3rd Letter I called them. Like a dork, I naively asked if they were serious about wanting to hire me, and the person said, "Yes! We've tried to contact you three times already!"
Sometimes I can be such a dense headed putz! Fortunately for me, their impression was more professional, and the interview went great! I got the job, and kissed my robots goodbye for a second time. I really miss those guys.
So in a way it's like when I started working at the plastics factory. I'm on the night shift, which is what I prefer, the work is easy, the environment is laid back, the coworkers are great, they benefits are nice, and frankly the pay ain't too shabby. Like most companies, they have their strengths and weaknesses, but over all, I feel like this is a place I can hang around till I retire.
So that's that. I'm still alive and kickin'. The house is a mess, but I'm grateful to have a home. I still owe an obscene amount of money to my creditors, but my bills are paid. I've even been dating someone who I have almost nothing in common with, but we like each other's company, and she doesn't seem to mind my warped sense of humor. She's also trying to get me to lose weight and make better food choices. (Yes, I am way too fat again. Go figure.)
So a special thanks to everyone who's contributed to the content of this site over the years. I'm sorry I haven't been maintaining it of late, and even sorrier still that I have decided to retire the submission page. It isn't here now. The submission page went away. The submission page is gone.
I'm not sure where I'm going with this site just yet, but if you have any suggestions, you can leave me a comment here or contact me through email. My username is flush2x on gmail, and from there I'll let you figure it out.
Flush Twice is a JOTD (Joke of the Day) website. New jokes are published every Monday through Friday (midnight EST). There is also a comic and a personal blog in the sidebar that updates on the weekends. We’ve been operating since May of 2003.
Jokes are generously provided by friends and visitors such as yourself. If you would like to contribute, please check out our submission page, or e-mail email@example.com. If you know anyone who constantly e-mails you jokes, forward them to us! We’ll take what we can get!
So what makes a joke funny?
It all boils down to a sudden shift in perception. The story starts you thinking one way, then the punchline turns that thinking on its ear. The art of the joke is to craft a short story that isn’t overly contrived, then deliver a punchline that suddenly shifts your perception about the story you were being told.
Many of the jokes on this site are offensive, and we make no apologies for it. Offensive jokes work by making the reader uncomfortable through the use of a taboo subject thus enhancing the underlying humor. Without the offensive element, the joke would simply not be as funny.