A soap opera

[Altissimus]

Came across this when I was trawling my historical files looking for something else. This has nothing to do with anything else, but I found it funny, so thought I'd subject you lot to it.

The following letters are (supposedly) taken from an actual incident between a London hotel and one of its guests.

Dear Maid,
Please do not leave any more of those little bars of soap in my bathroom since I have brought my own bath-sized Imperial Leather. Please remove the six unopened little bars from the shelf under the medicine chest and another three in the shower soap dish. They are in my way. Thank you,
S Berman

Dear Room 635,
I am not your regular maid. She will be back tomorrow, Thursday, from her day off. I took the three hotel soaps out of the shower soap dish as you requested. The six bars on your shelf I took out of your way and put on top of your Kleenex dispenser in case you should change your mind. This leaves only the three bars I left today and my instructions from the management are to leave three soaps daily. I hope this is satisfactory.
Kathy, Relief Maid

Dear Maid
I hope you are my regular maid. Apparently Kathy did not tell you about my note to her concerning the little bars of soap. When I got back to my room this evening, found you had added three little Camays to the shelf under my medicine cabinet. I am going to be here in the hotel for two weeks and have brought my own bath-sized Imperial Leather, so I won't need those six little Camays, which are on the shelf. They are in my way when shaving, brushing teeth, etc. Please remove them.
S Berman

Dear Mr Berman,
The assistant manager, Mr Kensedder, informed me this morning that you called him last evening and said you were unhappy with your maid service. I have assigned a new girl to your room. I hope you will accept my apologies for any past inconvenience. If you have any future complaints, please contact me so I can give it my personal attention. Call extension 1108 between 8am and 5pm. Thank you.
Elaine Carmen, Housekeeper

Dear Miss Carmen,
It is impossible to contact you by phone since I leave the hotel for business at 7:45am and don't get back before 5:30 or 6pm. That's the reason I called Mr Kensedder last night. You were already off duty. I only asked Mr Kensedder if he could do anything about those little bars of soap. The new maid you assigned me must have thought I was a new check in today, since she left another three bars of hotel soap in my medicine cabinet, along with her regular delivery of three bars on the Bathroom shelf. In just five days here I have accumulated 24 little bars of soap. Why are you doing this to me?
S Berman

Dear Mr Berman,
Your maid, Kathy, has been instructed to stop delivering soap to your room and remove the extra soaps. If I can be of further assistance, please call extension 1108 between 8am and 5pm. Thank you,
Elaine Carmen, Housekeeper

Dear Mr Kensedder,
My bath-sized Imperial Leather is missing. Every bar of soap was taken from my room, including my own bath-sized Imperial Leather. I came in late last night and had to call the bellhop to bring me four little Cashmere Bouquets
S Berman

Dear Mr Berman,
I have informed our housekeeper, Elaine Carmen, of your soap problem. I cannot understand why there was no soap in your room since our maids are instructed to leave three bars of soap each time they service a room. The situation will be rectified immediately. Please accept my apologies for the inconvenience.
Martin L Kensedder, Assistant Manager

Dear Mrs Carmen,
Who the hell left 54 little bars of Camay in my room? I came in last night and found 54 little bars of soap. I don't want 54 little bars of Camay. I want my one damn bar of bath-sized Imperial Leather. Do you realise I have 54 bars of soap in here? All I want is my bath-sized Imperial Leather. Please give me back my bath-sized Imperial Leather.
S Berman

Dear Mr Berman,
You complained of too much soap in your room, so I had them removed. Then you complained to Mr Kensedder that all your soap was missing, so I personally returned them - the 24 Camays which had been taken and the three Camays you are supposed to receive daily. I don't know anything about the four Cashmere Bouquets. Obviously your maid, Kathy, did not know I had returned your soaps, so she also brought 24 Camays plus the three daily Camays. I don't know where you got the idea this hotel issues bath-sized Imperial Leather. I was able to locate some bath-sized Ivory which I left in your room.
Elaine Carmen, Housekeeper

Dear Mrs Carmen,
Just a short note to bring you up-to-date on my latest soap inventory. As of today, I possess:

• On the shelf under the medicine
cabinet - 18 Camay in 4 stacks of 4
and 1 stack of 2.

• On the Kleenex dispenser - 11 Camay
in 2 stacks of 4 and 1 stack of 3.

• On the bedroom dresser - 1 stack of 3
Cashmere Bouquet, 1 stack of 4
hotel-size Ivory, and 8 Camay in 2stacks of 4.

• Inside the medicine cabinet - 14
Camay in 3 stacks of 4 and 1 stack of
2.

• In the shower soap dish - 6 Camay,
very moist.

• On the Northeast corner of the tub - 1
Cashmere Bouquet, slightly used.

• On the Northwest corner of the tub - 6
Camays in 2 stacks of 3.

Please ask Kathy when she services my room to make sure the stacks are neatly piled and dusted. Also, please advise her that stacks of more than four have a tendency to tip. May I suggest that my bedroom window sill is not in use and will make an excellent spot for future soap deliveries. One more item, I have purchased another bar of bath-sized Imperial Leather which I am keeping in the hotel vault in order to avoid further misunderstandings.
S Berman

 

[Kumquatqueen]

This was one of the first memes I ever read on Usenet. It was 'bath-size Izal' in that version, which none of my UK colleagues had heard of. I judged them by whether they could deduce it was a brand of soap or not.

 

[Altissimus]

It was 'bath-size Izal' in that version, which none of my UK colleagues had heard of.

UK, here. Never heard of it.

Timestamp on this file was from over 20 years ago. I doubt there's much truth to any of it, but it's still a funny story.

 

[Djmac1031]

Yeah, that's all well and good and all, but did they leave enough TOWELS?

They never leave enough towels.

1 star for not enough towel action.

There should have been more towels.

 

[SimonDoom]

Love this!

Now somebody has to turn it into an erotic story.

 

[Djmac1031]

Love this!

Now somebody has to turn it into an erotic story.

I peeled the wrapper off slowly, taking my time. I wanted to enjoy this.

One smooth, soft corner was revealed. I marveled at it's silky curve.

The soap's scent was strong, yet not unpleasant.

My hands trembled as I continued to unwrap it, revealing still more of the creamy loveliness hidden beneath.

I couldn't wait to feel it against my body, massaging my chest, my thighs, slowly building a lather of passion...

How could something so clean feel so dirty?

 

[SimonDoom]

How about a version where the guest, a woman, arrives to find a sex toy in her room, and she complains, noting that she's brought her own, and the maids subsequently keep delivering and taking away sex toys in a comedy of miscommunication, orgasms, and wet bedsheets.

 

[alohadave]

This was one of the first memes I ever read on Usenet. It was 'bath-size Izal' in that version, which none of my UK colleagues had heard of. I judged them by whether they could deduce it was a brand of soap or not.

I've been looking for the Pennsylvania Diary for years now. It details a man who moves to Pennsylvania and journals his show descent into the hell of dealing with snow and snowplows.

 

[Altissimus]

I peeled the wrapper off slowly, taking my time. I wanted to enjoy this.

One smooth, soft corner was revealed. I marveled at it's silky curve.

The soap's scent was strong, yet not unpleasant.

My hands trembled as I continued to unwrap it, revealing still more of the creamy loveliness hidden beneath.

I couldn't wait to feel it against my body, massaging my chest, my thighs, slowly building a lather of passion...

How could something so clean feel so dirty?

"You've brought me more soap again, haven't you?"

She stopped, surprised. She hadn't seen him sitting there in the corner. She thought he'd be out on business, like he had been every day. Instead, he'd been waiting for her.

"What did I tell you about the soap?"

"I'm... I'm sorry, Sir. I don't want to do it, but I have to! I'm only doing as I'm told."

"What about what I've told you to do?"

She looked down in consternation, the conflict warring within her.

"You know what this means, don't you?" he asked.

She nodded, a swift, jerky movement, her pulse racing in anticipation.

His hand reached out lazily, one finger flicking the nearest pile of four. She could only watch helplessly, her breath catching, as the little soaps cascaded into the other stacked piles, a domino effect, and now they were falling to the floor, spilling across the carpet.

"Pick them up," his tone would brook no dissent. "All of them."

"Yes, Sir."

Slowly she slipped to her hands and knees and crawled toward him, her little maid uniform tight across her ass as she did.

She gathered them as she came, pushing them together in a small pile on the carpet. But it wasn't the spilled soaps across the carpet that were her focus, it was the ones that had fallen into his lap.

This was her job, and oh, but how she loved her job.

 

[AchtungNight]

This reminds me of a movie called Soapdish, the second best Sally Field movie I ever saw.

 

[pink_silk_glove]

Here's another old one, a classic.

Caller: Hello, can I speak to Annie Wan?

Operator : Yes, you can speak to me.

Caller: No, I want to speak to Annie Wan!

Operator: You are talking to someone! Who is this?

Caller: I'm Sam Wan, and I need to talk to Annie Wan! It's urgent.

Operator: I know you are someone and you want to talk to anyone, but what's this urgent matter about?

Caller: Well ... just tell my sister Annie Wan that our brother Noel Wan was involved in an accident. Noel Wan got injured and now Noel Wan is being sent to the hospital. Right now, Avery Wan is on his way to the hospital.

Operator: Look, if no one was injured and no one was sent to the hospital, then the accident isn't an urgent matter! You may find this hilarious but I don't have time for this!

Caller: You are so rude! Who are you?

Operator: I'm Saw Lee.

Caller: Yes! You should be sorry. Now give me your name!

 

[AchtungNight]

By the way, I’m starting a Baseball Team. I need a third baseman. Anyone interested?

 

[pink_silk_glove]

Perhaps the best written sketch in the history of television.

 

[Comshaw]

Good one. Here's one I copied long ago. It should warm a writer's heart.


THE COLLEGE THEME PAPER: HE VS. SHE
Remember the book "Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus"? Well, here's a prime example offered by an English professor at an American University.
"Today we will experiment with a new form called the tandem story. The process is simple. Each person will pair off with the person sitting to his or her immediate right. One of you will then write the first paragraph of a short story. The partner will read the first paragraph and then add another paragraph to the story. The first person will then add a third paragraph, and so on back and forth. Remember to re-read what has been written each time in order to keep the story coherent. There is to be absolutely NO talking and anything you wish to say must be written on the paper. The story is over when both agree a conclusion has been reached."

The following was actually turned in by two of my English students: Rebecca -last name deleted, and Gary last name deleted.
------------------------------------------------------
STORY:
(first paragraph by Rebecca)
At first, Laurie couldn't decide which kind of tea she wanted. The chamomile, which used to be her favorite for lazy evenings at home, now reminded her too much of Carl, who once said, in happier times, that he liked chamomile. But she felt she must now, at all costs, keep her mind off Carl. His possessiveness was suffocating, and if she thought about him too much her asthma started acting up again. So chamomile was out of the question.
------------------------------------------------------
(second paragraph by Gary)
Meanwhile, Advance Sergeant Carl Harris, leader of the attack squadron now in orbit over Skylon 4, had more important things to think about than the neuroses of an air-headed asthmatic bimbo named Laurie with whom he had spent one sweaty night over a year ago. "A.S. Harris to Geostation 17, he said into his transgalactic communicator. "Polar orbit established. No sign of resistance so far..." But before he could sign off, a bluish particle beam flashed out of nowhere and blasted a hole through his ship's cargo bay. The jolt from the direct hit sent him flying out of his seat into the cockpit.
------------------------------------------------------
(Rebecca)
He bumped his head and died almost immediately but not before he felt one last pang of regret for psychically brutalizing the one woman who had ever had feelings for him. Soon afterwards, Earth stopped its pointless hostilities towards the peaceful farmers of Skylon 4. "Congress Passes Law Permanently Abolishing War and Space Travel," Laurie read in her newspaper one morning. The news simultaneously excited her and bored her. She stared out the window, dreaming of her youth, when the days had passed unhurriedly and carefree, with no newspapers to read, no television to distract her from her sense of innocent wonder at all the beautiful things around her. "Why must one lose one's innocence to become a woman?" she pondered wistfully.
------------------------------------------------------
(Gary)
Little did she know, but she had less than 10 seconds to live. Thousands of miles above the city, the Anu'udrian mothership launched the first of its lithium fusion missiles. The dim-witted wimpy peaceniks who pushed the Unilateral Aerospace Disarmament Treaty through the congress had left Earth a defenseless target for the hostile alien empires who were determined to destroy the human race. Within two hours after the passage of the treaty the Anu'udrian ships were on course for Earth, carrying enough firepower to pulverize the entire planet. With no one
to stop them, they swiftly initiated their diabolical plan. The lithium fusion missile entered the atmosphere unimpeded. The President, in his top-secret Mobile submarine headquarters on the ocean floor off the coast of Guam, felt the inconceivably massive explosion, which vaporized poor, stupid, Laurie and 85 million other Americans. The President slammed his fist on the conference table. "We can't allow this! I'm going to veto that treaty! Let's blow 'em out of the sky!"
------------------------------------------------------
(rebecca)
This is absurd. I refuse to continue this mockery of literature. My writing partner is a violent, chauvinistic semi-literate adolescent.
------------------------------------------------------
(gary)
Yeah? Well, you're a self-centered tedious neurotic whose attempts at writing are the literary equivalent of Valium. "Oh shall I have chamomile tea? Or shall I have some other sort of F*CKING TEA??? Oh no, I'm such an air headed bimbo who reads too many Danielle Steele novels."
------------------------------------------------------
(rebecca)
Asshole.
------------------------------------------------------
(gary)
Bitch.
------------------------------------------------------
(rebecca)
Wanker.
------------------------------------------------------
(gary)
slut.
------------------------------------------------------
(rebecca)
Get f*cked.
------------------------------------------------------
(gary)
Eat shit.
------------------------------------------------------
(rebecca)
F*CK YOU - YOU NEANDERTHAL!!!
------------------------------------------------------
(gary)
Go drink some tea - whore.
**********************************************
(teacher)
A+ - I really liked this one.



Aaaaaaand...CUT!



Comshaw

 

[Altissimus]

As this thread has morphed into posting oldies, here's another one I like:

The following question was supposedly posed in a chemistry paper: Is Hell exothermic (gives off heat) or endothermic (absorbs heat)?

Most of the students wrote proofs of their beliefs using Boyle's Law (gas cools when it expands and heats when it is compressed) or some variant.

One student, however, wrote the following:

First, we need to know how the mass of Hell is changing in time. So we need to know the rate at which souls are moving into Hell and the rate at which they are leaving. I think that we can safely assume that once a soul gets to Hell, it will not leave. Therefore, no souls are leaving.

As for how many souls are entering Hell, let's look at the different religions that exist in the world today. Most of these religions state that if you are not a member of their religion, you will go to Hell. Since there is more than one of these religions and since people do not belong to more than one religion, we can project that all souls go to Hell.

With birth and death rates as they are, we can expect the number of souls in Hell to increase exponentially. Now, we look at the rate of change of the volume in Hell because Boyle's Law states that in order for the temperature and pressure in Hell to stay the same, the volume of Hell has to expand proportionately as souls are added.

This gives two possibilities:

1. If Hell is expanding at a slower rate than the rate at which souls enter Hell, then the temperature and pressure in Hell will increase until all Hell breaks loose.

2. If Hell is expanding at a rate faster than the increase of souls in Hell, then the temperature and pressure will drop until Hell freezes over.

So which is it?

If we accept the postulate given to me by Teresa during my Freshman year that, "it will be a cold day in Hell before I go out with you", and take into account the fact that I went out with her last night, then number 2 must be true, and thus I am sure that Hell is exothermic and has already frozen over.

The corollary of this theory is that since Hell has frozen over, it follows that it is not accepting any more souls and is therefore extinct . . . leaving only Heaven, thereby proving the existence of a divine being, which explains why last night Teresa kept shouting "Oh, my God!"

 

[MrPixel]

^^^^^

I remember that one from school, five decades ago. It's still funny.

 

[Comshaw]

Love it. It's always fabulous to see such wit (way beyond my capabilities) committed to print.

Comshaw