my favs

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Then the good samaritan got to thinking that maybe he didn't want to face the man's irate and tired wife because she may think he was the one who got the man drunk. So, he opened the first door he came to and shoved him through it then went back downstairs. However, when he went back outside, there was another drunk. So he asked that drunk "Do you live here?" "Yep". "Would you like me to help you upstairs?" "Yep". So he did and put him in the same door with the first drunk. Then went back downstairs.

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Where, to his surprise, there was another drunk. So he started over to him. But before he got to him, the drunk staggered over to a policeman and cried "Please officer, protect me from this man.
He's been doing nothing all night long but taking me upstairs and throwing me down the elevator shaft!"

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Earl was bragging to his boss one day, “You know, I know everyone there is to know. Just name someone, anyone, and I know them.”Tired of his boasting, his boss called his bluff, “OK, Earl how about Tom Cruise?”

“Sure, yes, Tom and I are old friends, and I can prove it.“

So Earl and his boss fly out to Hollywood and knock on Tom Cruise’s door, and sure enough, Tom Cruise, shouts, “Earl! Great to see you! You and your friend come right in and join me for lunch!”

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Although impressed, Earl’s boss is still skeptical. After they leave Cruise’s house, he tells Earl that he thinks Earl’s knowing Cruise was just lucky. “No, no, just name anyone else,” Earl says. “President Clinton,” his boss quickly retorts.

“Yes,” Earl says, “I know him, let’s fly out to Washington.”

And off they go. At the White House, Clinton spots Earl on the tour and motions him and his boss over saying, “Earl, what a surprise. I was just on my way to a meeting, but you and your friend come on in and let’s have a cup of coffee first and catch up.”

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Well, the boss is very shaken by now, but still not totally convinced. After they leave the White house grounds, he expresses his doubts to Earl, who again implores him to name anyone else.

“The Pope,” his boss replies. “Sure!” says Earl. “My folks are from Poland, and I’ve known the Pope a long time.”

So off they fly to Rome. Earl and his boss are assembled with the masses in Vatican Square when Earl says, “This will never work. I can’t catch the Pope’s eye among all these people. Tell you what: I know all the guards, so let me just go upstairs and I’ll come out on the balcony with the Pope.”

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And he disappears into the crowd headed toward the Vatican. Sure enough, half an hour later, Earl emerges with the Pope on the balcony. But by the time Earl returns, he finds that his boss has had a heart attack and is surrounded by paramedics.

Working his way to his boss’ side, Earl asks him, “What happened?”

His boss looks up and says, “I was doing fine until you and the Pope came out on the balcony and the man next to me said, “Who’s that on the balcony with Earl?”

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and then there is a review from someone who ordered 5 pounds of sugar free Gummy Bears ( I did not make this up)
http://www.amazon.com/Haribo-Gummy-C...owViewpoints=1
32,426 of 32,884 people found the following review helpful

1.0 out of 5 stars Just don't. Unless it's a gift for someone you hate., October 3, 2012
By
Christine E. Torok (Pennsylvania) - See all my reviews

This review is from: Haribo Gummy Candy, Sugarless Gummy Bears, 5-Pound Bag (Grocery)
Oh man...words cannot express what happened to me after eating these. The Gummi Bear "Cleanse". If you are someone that can tolerate the sugar substitute, enjoy. If you are like the dozens of people that tried my order, RUN!

First of all, for taste I would rate these a 5. So good. Soft, true-to-taste fruit flavors like the sugar variety...I was a happy camper.

BUT (or should I say BUTT), not long after eating about 20 of these all hell broke loose. I had a gastrointestinal experience like nothing I've ever imagined. Cramps, sweating, bloating beyond my worst nightmare. I've had food poisoning from some bad shellfish and that was almost like a skip in the park compared to what was going on inside me.

Then came the, uh, flatulence. Heavens to Murgatroyd, the sounds, like trumpets calling the demons back to Hell...the stench, like 1,000 rotten corpses vomited. I couldn't stand to stay in one room for fear of succumbing to my own odors.

But wait; there's more. What came out of me felt like someone tried to funnel Niagara Falls through a coffee straw. I swear my sphincters were screaming. It felt like my delicate starfish was a gaping maw projectile vomiting a torrential flood of toxic waste. 100% liquid. Flammable liquid. NAPALM. It was actually a bit humorous (for a nanosecond)as it was just beyond anything I could imagine possible.

AND IT WENT ON FOR HOURS.

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I felt violated when it was over, which I think might have been sometime in the early morning of the next day. There was stuff coming out of me that I ate at my wedding in 2005.

I had FIVE POUNDS of these innocent-looking delicious-tasting HELLBEARS so I told a friend about what happened to me, thinking it HAD to be some type of sensitivity I had to the sugar substitute, and in spite of my warnings and graphic descriptions, she decided to take her chances and take them off my hands.

Silly woman. All of the same for her, and a phone call from her while on the toilet (because you kinda end up living in the bathroom for a spell) telling me she really wished she would have listened. I think she was crying.

Her sister was skeptical and suspected that we were exaggerating. She took them to work, since there was still 99% of a 5 pound bag left. She works for a construction company, where there are builders, roofers, house painters, landscapers, etc. Lots of people who generally have limited access to toilets on a given day. I can't imagine where all of those poor men (and women) pooped that day. I keep envisioning men on roofs, crossing their legs and trying to decide if they can make it down the ladder, or if they should just jump.

If you order these, best of luck to you. And please, don't post a video review during the aftershocks.

PS: When I ordered these, the warnings and disclaimers and legalese were NOT posted. I'm not a moron. Also, not sure why so many people assume I'm a man. I am a woman. We poop too. Of course, our poop sparkles and smells like a walk in a meadow of wildflowers. Thanks for all the great comments. I've been enjoying reading them and so glad that the horror show I experienced from snacking on these has at least made some people smile.

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and another for the same product

1.0 out of 5 stars My Dinner With Andrea, November 21, 2013
By
@StuPurdue - See all my reviews
This review is from: Haribo Gummy Candy, Sugarless Gummy Bears, 5-Pound Bag (Grocery)
I'm pretty sure Andrea (I'll call her) agreed to have dinner at my apartment only because I always spoke to her using nothing but my two-years-of-high-school German. Her English was perfect. Probably better than mine. But the fact that I could only ask her directions to the Autobahn or inquire about the health of her non-existent Tante Amelia, seemed to make me appealing to her in a sweet and non-threatening way.
My intentions, however, were considerably less child-like. Which is why the shopping that night was done at one of those upscale groceries with an international flair. Moules Marinieres is as much of a panty-peeler as anything I can cook, and isn't that hard to pull off. But still, I was busy tracking the recipe in my head when I found myself in the sweets aisle. And that, to my great chagrin, is why I didn't immediately notice the difference between Haribo Normal Gummi Bears (which are designed for human enjoyment) and Haribo Sugarless Gummi Bears (which are designed for use in maximum security prisons as a way to punish uncooperative inmates).
I shan't make that mistake again. (notice you can't spell SHAN'T without SHAT.)
Prior to Andrea's arrival, I sat in my living room, creating a playlist of make-out music and nervously binging on the Gummi Bears I had placed in a decorative bowl because I am fancy.

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The doorbell rang, and within minutes we were standing in the kitchen, drinking beers and both of us probably worrying that we were about to exhaust my ability to communicate in her native tongue. But soon that would be the least of my worries. In the middle of trying to ask Andrea if she likes to dance to young people's music, I felt a flutter in my midsection, accompanied by a guttural pronouncement so loud it threatened to drown out my own voice.
Maybe it was because I was mentally refreshing my language lessons, but it suddenly struck me how much pre-diarrheal grumblings sound like German words.
"ENTSCHULDIGUNG!" was the next thing uttered by my rapidly clenching stomach. Appropriately, Andrea looked up in response.
"Sind Sie Kaffee machen?" she asked.
Am I making coffee?
I thought I must have mistranslated her at first, then finally I realized that yes, the loud, ominous gurgling coming from my gut could easily be mistaken for the percolating of some bachelor's crappy coffeemaker.
It's remarkable how quickly one knows that one is about to have a traumatic potty making experience. Maybe that's the body's way of buying you the precious seconds you need. I was already calculating the number of steps to the bathroom, speculating on whether I would have time to lift the lid to the toilet, when my own voice cried out loudly in my head.