The details of my life are quite inconsequential.

[Hutch]

My father was a relentlessly self-improving boulangerie owner from Belgium with low grade narcolepsy and a penchant for buggery. My mother was a fifteen year old French prostitute named Chloe with webbed feet. My father would womanize, he would drink, he would make outrageous claims like he invented the question mark. Some times he would accuse chestnuts of being lazy, the sort of general malaise that only the genius possess and the insane lament. My childhood was typical, summers in Rangoon, luge lessons. In the spring we'd make meat helmets. When I was insolent I was placed in a burlap bag and beaten with reeds, pretty standard really. At the age of 12 I received my first scribe. At the age of fourteen, a Zoroastrian named Vilma ritualistically shaved my testicles. There really is nothing like a shorn scrotum, it's breathtaking, I suggest you try it.

[bio-smear]

classic.

[Beaver]

There really is nothing like a shorn scrotum, it's breathtaking, I suggest you try it.

No way dude, wax it. It hurts soooo good.

[Steven S. Dallas]

I waxed it, and it hurt pretty bad.

[splat]

I boiled the wax, poured it on, and saw Jesus.
Would that qualify for sainthood and a statue in the Basilica?

[bio-smear]

I boiled the wax, poured it on, and saw Jesus.

What exactly is going on in that shop of yours?

[Andy_B]

Thanks for the mid-day chuckle.

[Big Blue]

I love that one almost as much as:

"That was the most insanely idiotic thing I have ever heard. At no point during your rambling, incoherent response did you even approach anything that could be considered a rational thought. Everyone in this room is dumber for having heard it. I award you no points, and may god have mercy on your soul."

[stupendous man]

Personally, before I'm on the job I like to give my undercarriage a bit of the how's your father.