Tag: happy
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PONGPENDIUM – What Kind of Little Stinker are You? A Pump-kin?
The calm rippling motion when they arrive and their funny beaver faces make you relax and enjoy the spectacle. Yet, that relaxation is destroyed when they become fartistic, create a random image that then evaporates into a terrible stench.
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PONGPENDIUM – What Kind of Little Stinker are You? A Hideous Hummer?
Now imagine gathering a group of them together, all humming their own tunes then you certainly have the potential for absolute aggravation. Now combine that with a fruity fragrant fart and you have a catastrophic combination.
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PONGPENDIUM – What Kind of Little Stinker are You? A Sneaky Squeaky ?
You learned the art of sneak early on… The other poignant posterial part is that your bottom does not make a thunderous billowing blow off. Instead it creates a smelly sound likened to a rusty hinge.
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Not Much Better Than This…
Sometimes it is worth reminding one’s self that simple things are wonderful.
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PONGPENDIUM – What Kind of Little Stinker are You? A Stink Stonker?
A load roar of satisfaction should always be made when one is proud of a stink creation. These Little Stinkers can create a stinking stonker and their proud achievement makes them roar.
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PONGPENDIUM – What Kind of Little Stinker are You? A Smog Sprouter?
The Smog Sprouters are just fun loving Little Stinkers. They are very showy and move like penguins with husky heads. When you see them arrive, they can’t help but make you smile. Pre-pong, the Smog Sprouters do a lovely waddly dance.
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That Refund You Owe Me – Thank You for The Refund
There I was caught up in new inventive sports involving food items and… surprise… a refund. You must have read my emails and thought ‘we can’t take much more of this…’
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That Refund You Owe Me – A Bad Smell!
What an awful job. How they smile at guests when they have been on the receiving on of rectal rage!
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That Refund You Owe Me – Nakedness
I think one of my favourite sleep walking stories is from a friend of mine who quite often sleep walks. She is known for wandering through the work’s disco in her underwear during one such sleep walking expedition.