MALIKS KABOB HOOKAH LOUNGE BEST HOOKAH BAR IN FAIRFAX VA
9542 ARLINGTON BLVD FAIRFAX VA 22031

edit by Cary: Shortened display name to fix formatting



Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 07/23/2010 03:36PM by Cary.

This place SUCKS.. too many sand niggers, hajis, towelheads, dotheads, and sahibs

Ive been exposed to alot of racist terms in my day, but what the fuck is a "sahib"? someone please enlighten me.

Arab Hater Wrote:
-------------------------------------------------------
> This place SUCKS.. too many sand niggers, hajis,
> towelheads, dotheads, and sahibs


Sahib - "...is an Arabic term which literally translates to "Owner" or "Proprieter"." I can see why you wouldn't want to go to a hookah bar with your arab owner. What a douche. :)

Come on man. Nobody would know what the fuck a sahib was. Nor would anybody care (with the exception of Kenny_Powers). Why don't we stop with all the names and just settle on "terrorists". Come on guys, the US is a team sport. There is no sahib in team.

Doesn't Matter Wrote:
-------------------------------------------------------
>There is no sahib in team.

I just LoL'd in my pants. :)

You 'tards are f-ing rednecks. I don't play on the bible-belters team. Go to Cracker Barrell and listen to your Kenney Chesney. You're an embarrassment to civilized Americans...particularly civilized Fairfax-ians. Douche.

this place sucks ass! no body should ever go there unless you want terrible service, it is unsanitary, dirty and they try to give your shit to their friends that go there. they have awful movies on the screen no music and no food " because they are renovating. BULLSHIT this place was terrible and i wouldn't recommend it to anyone

This place SUCKS ASS. I went there with some friends and ordered a hummus platter. About 30 minutes later, my insides are ready to explode out of me like the alien baby in the movie Alien.

Thank fucking Allah they had a bathroom. I managed to get my pant down but didnt make it to the toilet. Fuck them. I hope they enjoyed cleaning up the splattering of processed hummus I shat all over their bathroom floor.

When I was a teenager back in the 1980s, I flat out quit my job at Burger King when I was to clean the bathrooms and found explosive shit all over the floor. HA HA HA! I bet those fucking desert nigs were screaming in Arabic when they saw their shitty bathroom. LOL

The previous two postings reminded me of a classic Craigslist posting:

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...

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 diagonal wire cutters 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 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 crouched 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 precedence 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 consistency 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 initially hit the toilet seat. Then I sat down. Recall that when that event occurred, 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 shitwave, 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 liquidshit. 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 bring 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 explanation 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 management staff of any restaurant in which I have eaten.

bubble boy Wrote:
-------------------------------------------------------
> You 'tards are f-ing rednecks. I don't play on the
> bible-belters team. Go to Cracker Barrell and
> listen to your Kenney Chesney. You're an
> embarrassment to civilized
> Americans...particularly civilized Fairfax-ians.
> Douche.


If "civilized" means douche-bags who cruise around in Mommy and Daddy's M3, while hitting curbs and hating on the dirty po-po, then yeah, I guess we're such a civil grouping of people in Ffx.

==================================================================================================
"And if any women or children get their legs torn off, or faces caved in, well, it's tough shit for them." -2LT. Bert Stiles, 505th, 339th (On Berlin Bombardier Mission, 1944).

Hamsterbreath, that story is some funny shit (yeah, pun intended)

Go ahead and insult my restaurant. You rude people should be ashamed of yourself.

MALIKS KABOB HOOKAH LOUNGE FAIRFAX VA Wrote:
-------------------------------------------------------
> Go ahead and insult my restaurant. You rude
> people should be ashamed of yourself.


"resturant"? how about your "rude "staff and "shameful" service?

I have to admit, I've never been inside this place but I do think it looks like crap from the outside. The responses here arent very favorable but then again, the FFXU crowd doesn't like spam postings from business owners promoting their services/store/business.

OK first off anyone who hates on this joint has never smoked shitty Sheesha and has no right to talk shit about any place those of you saying that the service stinks is probably cause you are used to places with it premade and expects the food and hookah to come out the second it gets ordered if thats what you want the go to sphinx and pay over priced for everything you get. I have been to most any hookah lounge in the area and Maliks is the only place where I have had good service and friendly staff that speak English so if you say this place sucks thats not what you mother told me last night.

Dude,

They have mother-fucking cockroaches at Maliks. I don't know how this place stays in business.

These Hookah joints are becoming so overrated.

==================================================================================================
"And if any women or children get their legs torn off, or faces caved in, well, it's tough shit for them." -2LT. Bert Stiles, 505th, 339th (On Berlin Bombardier Mission, 1944).

If this place served decent food, I would go there. I went once and was disappointed.

What are the grid coordinates for this target...errrr...... restaurant?

Fairfax isn't that good for discount kabobs
There's a place in Sterling called Mr. Kabob which has a buffet that kicks ass

haha this is the funniest post I have ever read on here. Come on people stop hating on places half of you have never been to and plus its probably the same person posting up fake posts which by the way hasn't stopped me or my friends from going to this place. These fake reviews don't make a difference. I go there and trust me people sheesha is and food both are good. Don't believe me go there and try it for yourself. I see new faces everytime I go and then see the same people become regulars. STOP HATING PEOPLE. These people are very friendly and always give good service and there sheesha is smoother and they mix up flavors for you without charging extra. Some places don't even mix flavors. TRY IT ITS GOOD!

Leo~

That place probably stinks of ass/spices

I'm white and have high dining standards. The seats are ripped, the hookah crowd is irritating teenagers, and the hoses are plastic tubing with no mouthpiece. That being said, the food is awesome and delicious. Order off the tandoori section, the lamb chops were so good that they almost made me cry. Lamb, chicken, and ground beef are all good as well. Definitely worth stopping by for casual dining.

They ain't got fried chicken, cornbread or apple pie so fuck em.

I went to this place with my friends the other day & OMG their chicken karabhi was sooooo good that i felt like ordering another 1 if i wasn't full already. lol Then we had their own mixed sheesha which was strong but fruity. Oh man....perfect for me. :)

Yo this place kicks ass.....highly recommended.

show some pics of the girls that go there
or GTFO! and enjoy your roach infested food

i > u Wrote:
-------------------------------------------------------
> Arab Hater Wrote:
> --------------------------------------------------
> -----
> > This place SUCKS.. too many sand niggers,
> hajis,
> > towelheads, dotheads, and sahibs>
> Sahib - "...is an Arabic term which literally
> translates to "Owner" or "Proprieter"." I can see
> why you wouldn't want to go to a hookah bar with
> your arab owner. What a douche. :)

So if you meal sucks you can demand to see the Sahib. This chicken is overcooked I wish to speak to the Sahib!!

This place sucks big time. I went once. That was enough for this lifetime.

...Nail on the Head!

It's sad to see that these Arabs and Afghanis are bringing shit shisha parlors to the united states.

I've been to every hookah parlor in Fairfax and they are all bullshit. Just to make a quick buck they serve shit shisha.

If a place in Turkey served shit shisha it would be out of business in 40 minutes. I don't know how they manage here. You Americans should stop going to these dirty ass places . And wait till some decent person opens a great place instead of these shit holes.

Oh lordy lord......just 3 days ago, i was craving chicken so i went in to grab a sandwich. I got recommended that chicken wrap is really good & made spicy if wanted. So i got it spicy with an order of french fries. O M G what the heck do they put in their fries that it made me feel like i can't get enough. SHITTTTTTTTTTTT.........chicken wrap was good too but damn fries were off the hook. PLEASE give me more & more & then some moreeeeeeeeee.

awesome hookah bar

there hookah is beast

yeah! maliks licks ass.

They are not halal. I will report to the highest authority.

The kabob I had tasted like cow manure.

I will go support the other kabob corner house!

Ya leh leh!

Can't believe there r so many racists out there n ppl who don't have any know how of Pakistani/indian food writing comments... Well, about year and a half ago, I upon recommendation, went to try the food out n luvd it. Had them cater for a party of 400 ppl on the premises for an out door party! every single person luvd the food! From time to time, I go there for Sheesha with friends n family. Owners r very friendly n yes, when they r busy, the service lacks sometimes as any other busy restaurant, nothing unusual, otherwise, their service is xcellent n the portions r generous. Comes with freshly baked kabobs, freshly baked bread, rice and a side of off the hook chick peas! Even for buffet, they give out freshly baked bread (naan) served on the table.

Despite the fact that it doesn't have up scale seating arrangement and they don't have silver ware for e buffet, I would highly recommend this joint. They have seperate smoking and non smoking sections. They even have a small family room, which I prefer to sit in whenever I go with my family.

Arab Hater Wrote:
-------------------------------------------------------
> This place SUCKS.. too many sand niggers, hajis,
> towelheads, dotheads, and sahibs


you forgot 'jihadists'... you racist fuck, I'm white and i STILL think that you're a racist

I've been a regular at Malik's for a year, and they consistently have the best shisha in the area. Large bowls packed full of Fakher or Starbuzz, clean pipes and new hoses, and unlimited extra coals. I've been smoking for 10 years, have been to at least 15-20 places, and also have two hookahs at home, so I consider myself a discerning customer.

The food is very good, fresh, hot, and properly prepared. I consider Ravi to be the benchmark for Pakistani food, and Malik's can go toe-to-toe on some of their dishes. Malik's sikh kabob is better than Ravi's, the chickpeas are good (no one can beat Ravi there), and the bread is always hot, and stays soft, unlike Ravi's which gets hard within 10 minutes. Ravi wins the battle on boneless chicken.

The decor is nothing fancy, but the chairs are comfortable enough. Sometimes the music gets too loud on weekends, but they've been trying to tone it down to keep the older customers (e.g., me) happy.

As far as the commenters above talking about Arabs, hajis, towelheads, sahibs, and a variety of other terms, there are always going to be ignorant jackasses amusing themselves by spouting off on things about which they have no knowledge, playing for laughs to a peanut gallery of similarly small-minded, slack-jawed louts.

The owners are Pakistani, and the customers are a broad swath of white, black, desi, and and Asian. There are a lot of college kids, but there's no reason you'd feel uncomfortable if you're older. Some of the customers are too loud - the worst offenders are the American kids, who've learned their values and manners from gangster rap. The ethnic group insulted by the peanut gallery appears to have been raised better.

The secret is I spit in every third dish!

"I go there and trust me people sheesha is and food both are good."

I read this and decided that I never want to frequent any business you support.

A hookah is just another name for The Prophet Mohammed's Bong (Shit Be Upon Him). Y'know, there are whole countries who love these kind of bongs... so stuff a bomb in your underwear or shoes and head back there immediately!

If you want delicious middle eastern food and hookah try out Snookah Lounge it just opened last week, I went on its 3rd or 4th day and it looks really nice inside. You can play english Snooker or regular 8-Ball pool. The smoking section is great, music is great. I also tried a bite of the gyro's there and they are really good.

ain't this the Malik who ran for the county Board of Supervisors

Is Fez Bistro ,next to Bubba's BBQ in Merrifield, a hookah bar too?

i sometimes see a guy there with a bandana. He's hot.

I stopped going to Malik's after the owners showed themselves to be petty douchebags. The sikh kabob was good, as was the shisha, but the family was stingy and ungrateful, the service sucked, and customers are at the mercy of the bitchy sister who lords over the place like the princess of the counter. The owners consider most board games to be haram (forbidden by Islam), but blast ghetto rap music with the words niggers, bitches, whores, titties, ass, and fucking. How is THAT not haram?

I have no idea if the shisha is still good because Tommy, the Peruvian shisha-maker, quit to go work at Abu Nawas nearby.

Abu Nawas, named for a pedophile Arab poet, has good shisha, but the Iraqi owner, an ogre with an underbite, is in his own class of stingy,

WOW...sounds like a personal issue bro. Maybe you are too ugly for them to serve. hahaha You guys coming on here and dissing this place when it shows that you have obviously been there more then once...hey you don't like it or the people that work there or owners or whatever the hell your issue is with them...take it else where then. I'm sure Malik's Kabob won't mind losing jack asses like you.
They might just thank you for finally leaving. ahahhaaa

Place sucks, I'm amazed its still in biz.

HamsterBreath Wrote:
-------------------------------------------------------
> The previous two postings reminded me of a classic
> Craigslist posting:
>
> 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...
>
> 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 diagonal
> wire cutters 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
> 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 crouched 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 precedence 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 consistency 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 initially hit the toilet
> seat. Then I sat down. Recall that when that event
> occurred, 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 shitwave, 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 liquidshit. 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 bring 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 explanation 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 management staff of
> any restaurant in which I have eaten.


hilarious story, thanks for the laugh

maliks is called fusion now?