AT Awards Ballot
Ubiquitous
A.T Award Ballot. Please choose one from each category.
Cutoff date is Feb 28.
Followups will NOT be counted.
Mr A.T.: Wes Payne
Swan
Notorious P.I.G.
Vomit Boy
Julian McKassey
Ronaski
Citizen Ted
Mr A.T. Rookie: none
Ms A.T.: Lorri Robinson
Ms A.T. Rookie: Nurz Ratchet
Fiction: "The Adventures of Chuck Choad"
"Why I Love David Hasselhoff"
Non-Fiction: none
Concept: The Million Manson March
Product: TBD?
Biore' Pore-Perfect Strips
Insteads (vaginal menstral cup)
Flame: "Re: IQ, Flatliner and girls looks (was Re: When girls give you strange looks)"
Poem: "There once was a fellow from Norway
Who called to his girl, from the doorway
'Oh, Rattie, my dear,
Drop your clothes and come here!
For I think I've discovered
One MORE way!'"
Poster child: JonBenet Ramsey
Eric Cartman
Orville L Majors
Marshal Applewhite
Real life: "Checks Throws a Party"
"Down on the Farm"
"Nurzy Makes a Housecall"
"The Puke Queen, a cautionary New Year's Eve tale"
Quote: "How many licks does it take to get to the bottom of an Insteads?",
Work of Art: Daddy's Little Hooker
South Park
==============================================================================
"Gay people, well, gay people are EVIL, evil right down to their
cold black hearts which pump not blood like yours or mine, but
rather a thick, vomitous oil that oozes through their rotten
veins and clots in their pea-sized brains which becomes the
cause of their nazi-esque patterns of violent behavior. Do
you understand?"
One of Those Robinsons
Ubiquitous wrote:
>
> Ms A.T.: Lorri Robinson
>
> Ms A.T. Rookie: Nurz Ratchet
>
Reverse these--I'm the newcomer, Nurzy is the experienced one whose
stiletto heels and fishnet stockings I am not worthy to rinse out in
Woolite....
Lorri
I know my place
Jonathan Blaque
web...@polaris.net (Ubiquitous) wrote:
> Mr A.T.:
> Ronaski
> Citizen Ted
Huh?
> Mr A.T. Rookie: none
Huh? (Where's Sharvey?)
> Ms A.T.: Lorri Robinson
Huh? (She's a rookie, no?)
> Ms A.T. Rookie: Nurz Ratchet
Huh? (She's *not* a rookie)
Cheers!
Vomit(II)
Maybe It's Just Me
Sh...@burpleson.afb.gov
Ubiquitous <web...@polaris.net> wrote:
: Mr A.T. Rookie: none
So... does this mean I win by default?
I do seem to recall a trip to Hank's trailer and to Wes' guard shack to
"pay back" my nomination, and unless I've been somehow disqualified by the
ruling party of this banana republic, I thought I was still a candidate.
I know Ubik said that followups don't count as votes, but he didn't say I
can't use a followup to initiate my LaRouche-esque write-in campaign...
-Sharv
(Hopin' I win so I can con Vomit into buying more drinks...)
--
"Twentieth Century American history is the story of bad white men,
soldiers of fortune, shakedown artists, extortionists, legbreakers. The
lowest level implementors of public policy. Men who are often toadies of
right wing regimes. Men who are racists. Men who are homophobes. These
are my guys. These are the guys that I embrace. These are the guys that I
empathise with. These are the guys that I love. "
-- James Ellroy
Notorious P.I.G.
In article <34EB5F...@bellsouth.net> One of Those Robinsons <rob...@bellsouth.net> writes:
>Ubiquitous wrote:
>> Ms A.T.: Lorri Robinson
>stiletto heels and fishnet stockings I am not worthy to rinse out in
>Woolite....
You're right on two counts. The Nurse bitch has been here for ages.
This is a Good Thing, cuz the broad can write.
You, on the other hand, showed a rare piece o' class by admitiing that
you wasn't no fuckin' rookie. Most folks wouldn't have shown that sort
of motherfucking fortitude, and you should be commended for your honesty.
>I know my place
I know a face you can sit on...
VJ
Steve Crisp
Ubiquitous wrote:
> Non-Fiction: none
What have I got to do to get my nomination for The Steakhouse Incident
recognized? Get turked by a rabid hedgehog on prime time TV? In case you
missed it...
*********************************************************
Now, I know that there is a lot of embellishment that occurs on this
group and I am aware that a small number of things are perhaps sheer
fabrication, but I have a story to tell that is the absolute truth.
Funniest damn thing that has ever happened to me.
A couple of weeks ago we decided to cruise out to Ryan's Steakhouse for
dinner. It was a Wednesday night which means that macaroni and beef was
on the hot bar, indeed the only night of the week that it is served.
Wednesday night is also kid's night at Ryan's, complete with Dizzy the
Clown wandering from table to table entertaining the little bastards. It
may seem that the events about to be told have little connection to
those two circumstances, but all will be clear in a moment.
We went through the line and placed our orders for the all-you-can-eat
hot bar then sat down as far away from the front of the restaurant as
possible in order to keep the density of kids down a bit. Then I started
my move to the hot bar. Plate after plate of macaroni and beef were
consumed that evening, I tell you -- in all, four heaping plates of the
pseudo-Italian ambrosia were shoved into my belly. I was sated. Perhaps
a bit too much, however.
I had not really been feeling well all day, what with a bit of gas and
such. By the time I had eaten four overwhelmed plates of food, I was in
real trouble. There was so much pressure on my diaphragm that I was
having trouble breathing. At the same time, the downward pressure was
building. At first, I thought it was only gas which could have been
passed in batches right at the table without to much concern.
Unfortunately, that was not to be. After a minute or so it was clear
that I was dealing with explosive diarrhea. It's amazing how grease can
make its way through your intestines far faster than the food which
spawned the grease to begin with, but I digress...
I got up from the table and made my way to the bathroom. Upon entering,
I saw two sinks immediately inside the door, two urinals just to the
right of the sinks, and two toilet stalls against the back wall. One of
them was a handicapped bathroom. Now, normally I would have gone to the
handicapped stall since I like to stretch out a bit when I take a good
shit, but in this case, the door lock was broken and the only thing I
hate worse than my wife telling me to stop cutting my toenails with a
pair of diagional wirecutters is having someone walk in on me while I am
taking a shit. I went to the normal stall.
In retrospect, I probably should have gone to the large, handicapped
stall even though the door would not lock because that bit of time lost
in making the stall switch proved to be a bit too long under the
circumstances. By the time I had walked into the regular stall, the
pressure on my ass was reaching Biblical proportions.
I began "The Move."
For those women who may be reading this, let me take a moment to explain
"The Move." Men know exactly what their bowels are up to at any given
second. And when the time comes to empty the cache, a sequence of
physiological events occur that can not be stopped under any
circumstances. There is a move men make that involves simultaneously
approaching the toilet, beginning the body turn to position ones ass
toward said toilet, hooking ones fingers into ones waistline, and
pulling down the pants while beginning the squat at the same time. It is
a very fluid motion that, when performed properly, results in the
flawless expulsion of shit at the exact same second that ones ass is
properly placed on the toilet seat. Done properly, it even assures that
the choad is properly inserted into the front rim of the toilet in the
event that the piss stream lets loose at the same time; it is truly a
picture of coordination rivaling that of a skilled ballet dancer.
I was about half-way into "The Move" when I looked down at the floor and
saw a pile of vomit that had been previously expelled by one of those
little bastards attending kids night; it was mounded up in the corner so
I did not notice it when I had first walked into the stall. Normally, I
would not have been bothered by such a thing, but I had eaten so much
and the pressure upward was so intense, that I hit a rarely experienced
gag reflex. And once that reflex started, combined with the intense
pressure upward caused by the bloated stomach, four plates of macaroni
and beef started coming up for a rematch. What happened next was so
quick that the exact sequence of events are a bit fuzzy, but I will try
to reconstruct them as best I can.
In that moment of impending projectile vomiting, my attention was
diverted from the goings-on at the other end. To put a freeze frame on
the situation, I was half crotched down to the toilet, pants pulled down
to my knees, with a load of vomit coming up my esophagus. Now, most of
you know that vomiting takes precidence over shit no matter what is
about to come slamming out of your ass. It is apparently an evolutionary
thing since shitting will not kill you, but vomiting takes a presence of
mind to accomplish so that you do not aspirate any food into the
bronchial tubes and perhaps choke to death. My attention was thus
diverted.
At that very split second, my ass exploded in what can only be described
as a wake...you know, as in a newspaper headline along the lines of
"30,000 Killed In Wake of Typhoon Fifi" or something similar. In what
seemed to be most suitably measured in cubic feet, an enormous plug of
shit the consistancy of thick mud with embedded pockets of greasy liquid
came flying out of my ass. But remember, I was only half-way down on the
toilet at that moment. The shit wave was of such force and of just such
an angle in relation to the back curve of the toilet seat that it
ricocheted off the back of the seat and slammed into the wall at an
angle of incidence equal to the angle at which it initally hit the
toilet seat. Then I sat down.
Recall that when that event occured, I was already half-way to sitting
anyway and had actually reached the point of no return. I have always
considered myself as relatively stable gravitationally, but when you get
beyond a certain point, you're going down no matter how limber you may
be. Needless to say, the shit wave, though of considerable force, was
not so sufficient so as to completely glance off the toilet seat and
deposit itself on the walls, unlike what you would see when hitting a
puddle with a high-pressure water hose; even though you throw water at
the puddle, the puddle gets moved and no water is left to re-form a
puddle. There was a significant amount of shit remaining on about
one-third of the seat rim which I had now just collapsed upon.
Now, back to the vomit...
While all the shitting was going on, the vomit was still on its way up.
By the time I had actually collapsed on the toilet, my mouth had filled
up with a goodly portion of the macaroni and beef I had just consumed.
OK, so what does the human body instinctively do when vomiting? One
bends over. So I bent over. I was still sitting on the toilet, though.
Therefore, bending over resulted in me placing my head above my now
slightly-opened legs, positioned in between my knees and waist. Also
directly above my pants which were now pulled down to a point just
midway between my knees and my ankles. Oh, did I mention that I was
wearing not just pants, but sweat pants with elastic on the ankles.
In one mighty push, some three pounds of macaroni and beef, two or three
Cokes, and a couple of Big, Fat Yeast Rolls were deposited in my
pants...on the inside...with no ready exit at the bottom down by my
feet.
In the next several seconds, there were a handful of farts, a couple of
turds, and the event ended, yet I was now sitting there with my pants
full of vomit, my back covered in shit that had bounced off the toilet,
spattered on three ceramic-tiled walls to a height of about five feet,
and still had enough force to come back at me, covering the back of my
shirt with droplets of liquid shit. All while thick shit was spread all
over my ass in a ring curiously in the shape of a toilet seat.
And there was no fucking toilet paper.
What could I do but laugh. I must have sounded like a complete maniac to
the guy who then wandered into the bathroom. He actually asked if I was
OK since I was laughing so hard I must have sounded like I was crying
hysterically. I calmed down just enough to ask him if he would get the
manager. And told him to have the manager bring some toilet paper. When
the manager walked in, he brought the toilet paper with him, but in no
way was prepared for what happened next. I simply told him that there
was no way I was going to explain what was happening in the stall, but
that I needed several wet towels and I needed him to go ask my wife to
come help me. I told him where we were sitting and he left. At that
point, I think he was probably assuming that I had pissed just a bit in
my pants or something similarly benign.
About two minutes later, my wife came into the bathroom not knowing what
was wrong and with a certain amount of worry in her voice. I explained
to her (still laughing and having trouble getting out words) that I had
a slight accident and needed her help. Knowing that I had experienced
some close calls in the past, she probably assumed that I had laid down
a small turd or something and just needed to being the car around so we
could bolt immediately. Until I asked her, I'm sure she had no idea that
she was about to go across the street and purchase me new underwear, new
socks, new pants, a new shirt, and (by that time due to considerable
leakage around the elastic ankles thingies) new sneakers. And she then
started to laugh herself since I was still laughing. She began to ask
for an explination as to what had happened when I promised her that I
would tell her later, but that I just needed to handle damage control
for the time being. She left.
The manager then came back in with a half-dozen wet towels and a few dry
ones. I asked him to also bring a mop and bucket upon which he assured
me that they would clean up anything that needed to be cleaned. Without
giving him specific details, I explained that what was going on in that
stall that night was far in excess of what I would expect anyone to deal
with, what with most of the folks working at Ryan's making minimum wage
of just slightly above. At that moment, I think it dawned on him exactly
the gravity of the situation. Then that manager went so far above the
call of duty that I will be eternally grateful for his actions. He
hooked up a hose.
Fortunately, commercial bathrooms are constructed with tile walls and
tile floors and have a drain in the middle of the room in order to make
clean up easy. Fortunately, I was in a commercial bathroom. He hooked up
the hose to the spigot located under the sink as I began cleaning myself
up with the wet towels. Just as I was finishing, my wife got back with
the new clothes and passed them into the stall, whereupon I stuffed the
previously worn clothing into the plastic bag that came from the store,
handing the bag to my wife. I finished cleaning myself off and carefully
put on my new clothes, still stuck in the stall since I figured that it
would be in bad taste to go out of the stall to get redressed in the
event I happened to be standing there naked and some little bastard kid
walked in. At that point, I had only made a mess; I had not yet
committed a felony and intended to keep it that way.
When I finished getting dressed, I picked up the hose and cleaned up the
entire stall, washing down the remains toward the drain in the center of
the room. I put down the hose and walked out of the bathroom. I had
intended to go to the manager and thank him for all he had done, but
when I walked out, three of the management staff were there to greet me
with a standing ovation. I started laughing so hard that I thought I was
going to throw up again, but managed to scurry out to the car where my
wife was now waiting to pick me up by the front door.
The upshot of all this is that I strongly recommend eating dinner at
Ryan's Steak House. They have, by far, the nicest management staff of
any restaurant in which I have eaten.
Steve Crisp
cr...@pageplanet.com
Kruge
Ubiquitous <web...@polaris.net> schrieb im Beitrag
<88782532...@nexus.polaris.net>...
> Mr A.T. Rookie: none
Well, you know, after all I'm a *BIT* disappointed that noone even
*thought* about ... ME?
Mumblemumblebuggritmumblemilleniumshrimpsmumble!
--
Michael Briel, UZS...@uni-bonn.de, aka Kruge, resident Kraut of
alt.tasteless
Ken Willey, wil...@camcomp.com. still owes me my TSS.
ath...@azstarnet.com
Steve Crisp wrote:
>Major snipping<
Gawd... I laughed so hard I cried.. It took me aleast 4 klenex to get
through the story... I read your story out loud to my kids (all
teenagers) as they all rolled on the floor dying laughing, I cried as I
read your story. I don't care what anyone else thinks.. You deserve an
award... I don't believe there will be a time I will got out for dinner
and use the restroom, I won't think of you.. Sir, we salute you.....
:o)
Tina Marie
In article <34ec5b12...@news.erols.com>, DeMo <DeMo@.....Net> wrote:
>Story". I almost put my fucking left eye out. This high velocity
>spoo nailed me square my open eye. Startled the shit out of me. The
That sucks. It's even worse if you've got contacts in, and you quickly
blink your eye, and end up with the spoo _under_ your contact.
Tina Marie
--
Love is...pretending you're the one who wanted to order dessert.
I refuse to give in to spammers - my return address is real!
NBD#5 - skydiver - student pilot - http://www.neosoft.com/~tina
Ubiquitous
>> Non-Fiction: none
>
>What have I got to do to get my nomination for The Steakhouse Incident
>recognized? Get turked by a rabid hedgehog on prime time TV? In case you
>missed it...
Err, that would have been been an "A.T. Real life" nomination if people
had read directions and actually emailed me instead of following up on
it...
Steve Crisp
Ubiquitous wrote:
> Err, that would have been been an "A.T. Real life" nomination if people
> had read directions and actually emailed me instead of following up on
> it...
Just out of curiosity, what is the difference between "Real Life" and
"Non-Fiction"?
Is there some subtle distinction involving pus or choad cheeze that I am
missing?
Steve Crisp
One of Those Robinsons
Just thought I'd mention that I had forgotten the Ryan's Steakhouse
incident until it was reposted a week or so ago by that wanker who
thought it "really fits in alt.tasteless". After re-reading it, and
snorfling laughter once again, I submitted my ballet to the lovely
Ubiquitous (e-mail, of course! No Follow Ups Allowed!) with the
following line inserted after "Real Life":
WRITE IN VOTE: The Ryan's Steakhouse Incident by Steve Crisp
Now, as to whether (a) write-in's are allowed and (2) Ubi will count it
are up in the air and can only be answered by the beancounter himself.
Lorri
If you don't vote, don't bitch
Sh...@burpleson.afb.gov
One of Those Robinsons <rob...@bellsouth.net> wrote:
: WRITE IN VOTE: The Ryan's Steakhouse Incident by Steve Crisp
Seconded, and *not* emailed, either. I do wish to publicly apologize to
Steve for mis-attributing his wunnerful tale to someone else in a post I
wrote about five minutes hence.
: Now, as to whether (a) write-in's are allowed and (2) Ubi will count it
: are up in the air and can only be answered by the beancounter himself.
Well, now there's a tough one. I already voted, but at that time, the
Steakhouse Incident wasn't considered fair play... how about we whip up an
"honorary" award for Steve - kind of like the one David Cronenberg got at
Cannes for "Crash" - something about "bold and audacious".
1997 Award For Best Real-Life Non-Fiction Totally-True Tale of Losing It
At Both Ends Simultaneously In a Public Facility? Got kind of a ring to
it!
-Sharv
--
"Sometimes, alone in my cell at night, I'd say the word softly to myself.
'Sociopath.' Calling on the ice god to come into my soul. Willing to
be anything but afraid all the time." -- Andrew Vachss, "Blue Belle"
Notorious P.I.G.
In article <34EE43...@bellsouth.net> One of Those Robinsons <rob...@bellsouth.net> writes:
>WRITE IN VOTE: The Ryan's Steakhouse Incident by Steve Crisp
Seconded.
>If you don't vote, don't bitch
You forgot your period. Better check with your doctor.
VJ
Steve Crisp
Sh...@burpleson.afb.gov wrote:
> Seconded, and *not* emailed, either. I do wish to publicly apologize to
> Steve for mis-attributing his wunnerful tale to someone else in a post I
> wrote about five minutes hence.
Dammit. Why could you have not spoken a minute sooner. I have already
split my dick in half with a meat cleaver as a result of my shame and
humility.
Steve "where the fuck is that sewing kit" Crisp
One of Those Robinsons
Naw, it's missing on purpose. Surgical extraction of the blood bag, ya
know. It's the *only* way to go. PMS and none of the mess--woo hoo!
Lorri
ath...@azstarnet.com
One of Those Robinsons wrote:
>
> Steve Crisp wrote:
> >
> > Ubiquitous wrote:
> >
> > > Err, that would have been been an "A.T. Real life" nomination if people
> > > had read directions and actually emailed me instead of following up on
> > > it...
> >
> > Just out of curiosity, what is the difference between "Real Life" and
> > "Non-Fiction"?
> >
> > Is there some subtle distinction involving pus or choad cheeze that I am
> > missing?
> >
> > Steve Crisp
>
> Just thought I'd mention that I had forgotten the Ryan's Steakhouse
> incident until it was reposted a week or so ago by that wanker who
> thought it "really fits in alt.tasteless". After re-reading it, and
> snorfling laughter once again, I submitted my ballet to the lovely
> Ubiquitous (e-mail, of course! No Follow Ups Allowed!) with the
> following line inserted after "Real Life":
>
>
> are up in the air and can only be answered by the beancounter himself.
>
> If you don't vote, don't bitch
This has to be the one... I would vote for no other... Mr Crisp wins
hands down...
Dave Garrett
In article <6cluop$3...@eve.enteract.com>, Sh...@burpleson.afb.gov
says...
> One of Those Robinsons <rob...@bellsouth.net> wrote:
> : WRITE IN VOTE: The Ryan's Steakhouse Incident by Steve Crisp
>
> Seconded, and *not* emailed, either. I do wish to publicly apologize to
> Steve for mis-attributing his wunnerful tale to someone else in a post I
> wrote about five minutes hence.
You're not the only one. It was reposted by some fuckwit in
houston.eats a couple of weeks ago, without the goddamn common
courtesy of a reacharound, um, I mean proper attributions, and
I've heard that it showed up in one of the triangle.* groups as
well.
Dave
Steve Crisp
Dave Garrett wrote:
> You're not the only one. It was reposted by some fuckwit in
> houston.eats a couple of weeks ago, without the goddamn common
> courtesy of a reacharound, um, I mean proper attributions, and
> I've heard that it showed up in one of the triangle.* groups as
> well.
What's really interesting is the follow-ups I am getting. The tale seems
to be making strong rounds within corporate culture. I've received a lot
of email from employees of IBM, Boeing, Microsoft, Nortel, BASF, The New
York Times, and a couple of dozen others. It apparently gets in through
one person and then whips into their internal distribution lists.
Very cool...
Steve Crisp
cr...@pageplanet.com
Notorious P.I.G.
In article <34EF5C...@pageplanet.com> cr...@pageplanet.com writes:
>Dave Garrett wrote:
Nice to see you again, Garrett.
>What's really interesting is the follow-ups I am getting.
>Very cool...
It was a good piece of work, and I'll be both surprised and
disappointed if Crispy don't win.
ObT: So, I've been taking Doxocycline, a member of the ol' antibiotic
family, for 3 days. Turns my piss brown.
Ms. Ratchet, you got any knowledge about this shit?
VJ
NurzRachet
Notorious P.I.G. wrote:
<snip o' the old vas>
> ObT: So, I've been taking Doxocycline, a member of the ol' antibiotic
> family, for 3 days. Turns my piss brown.
>
> Ms. Ratchet, you got any knowledge about this shit?
Methinks you mean doxycycline, a member of the tetracycline family.
What a cool antibiotic. It's used for everything from malaria to rectal
chlamydia trachomatis infections.
Brown piss, eh? Doxy can elevate liver enzymes, and since we all know
that your liver is steel-belted radial retread, the brown piss might be
something you wanna mention to your doc. Antibiotics have been known to
turn piss brown, green, blue -- it's magically delicious! (Did they
give you the spiel about not taking antacids or alcohol at the same
time? Both will decrease the amount of the antibiotic absorbed.)
Nurzy
Makin' Another Housecall
Notorious P.I.G.
In article <34F0AB...@ix.netcom.com> NurzRachet <The...@ix.netcom.com> writes:
>Methinks you mean doxycycline, a member of the tetracycline family.
>What a cool antibiotic. It's used for everything from malaria to rectal
>chlamydia trachomatis infections.
Methinks you be correct, unless both you and the pharmacy are wrong.
>Brown piss, eh? Doxy can elevate liver enzymes, and since we all know
>that your liver is steel-belted radial retread, the brown piss might be
>something you wanna mention to your doc. Antibiotics have been known to
>turn piss brown, green, blue -- it's magically delicious! (Did they
>give you the spiel about not taking antacids or alcohol at the same
>time? Both will decrease the amount of the antibiotic absorbed.)
No, they didn't, but I knew that already. I haven't had to take an antacid
since my ulcers flared up 1 1/2 or 2 years ago. I have cut down on my
alcohol consumption, but it's still above normal levels.
>Nurzy
>Makin' Another Housecall
Thanks, sugar.
Vinnie
Lardy
Steve Crisp wrote:
> What's really interesting is the follow-ups I am getting. The tale seems
> to be making strong rounds within corporate culture. I've received a lot
> of email from employees of IBM, Boeing, Microsoft, Nortel, BASF, The New
> York Times, and a couple of dozen others. It apparently gets in through
> one person and then whips into their internal distribution lists.
>
> Very cool...
>
> Steve Crisp
> cr...@pageplanet.com
I am de-lurking in order to hopefully find a copy of this story. Could
someone repost this fine example of tastelessness. I must have missed it.
I never know what I've missed. My internet provider is so frigg'n flakey.
OBT: Shit my pants yesterday. Attack of the suprise liqui-shits. Man I
just laughed and laughed. I think I made it worse. I enjoyed the warm wet
squishy feeling. And prayed that I didn't get any on the leather couch.
Threw out the gitch. In hind site I should have kept them. I think the
stain kind of looked a little like Bill Clinton. Oh well....
Joe Christ
Lardy wrote:
> In hind site I should have kept them. I think the
> stain kind of looked a little like Bill Clinton. Oh well....
"Hind" sight, good pun. Bill Clinton, eh? Must've been a huge fuckin'
stain.
--Joe Christ
Sergeant Zeno
On Sun, 22 Feb 1998 17:48:45 -0500, NurzRachet <The...@ix.netcom.com> wrote:
>Methinks you mean doxycycline, a member of the tetracycline family.
>What a cool antibiotic. It's used for everything from malaria to rectal
>chlamydia trachomatis infections.
Dang, I read this as "rectal trachiotomy infections".
>Nurzy
>Makin' Another Housecall
We are all sick here at the Five-Sided Funny Farm.
Please come and cure us.
I am,
-Zeno.
--
---------------------------------------------
Sergeant Zeno
Loose Cannon and Internet Redneck
A Practicing Pyrokleptonecrobestialist
---------------------------------------------