Wow, this FML totally brings back memories. Well okay, it may seem disjointed and unrelated at first, but it clicks together at the end. So there I was, back in 'Nam, on a routine patrol about five kliks out from Hanoi. There's me riding shotgun, looking real constipated, sparkling in the sunlight and staring out across the war-torn fields like a god damn wannabe vampire straight out of a really crappy book saga. Little Jimmy was in the back, having his way with a pre-pubescent gopher. Yeah, Jimmy always was a little cracked in the head, but God bless him, he saved my life when I accidentally walked into that Klan meeting wearing nothing but a **** me dress and a makeshift thong made from an elastic band. But I digress. We were rolling on back to base when it happened. An IED blew our nuts off, and it all went downhill from there. Say what you like about the Viet Cong, but they sure knew how to lay a good ambush. Thankfully, the sheer amount of light reflecting off my bare sparkling chest blinded them and we took a good few of 'em out before their air support rained chloroform-soaked panties down on our feminine forms. Well, what are you gonna do against that? Little Jimmy didn't stand a chance. Screamed "WIIIIIII!" like a man possessed and inhaled enough chloroform to kill an ox. Yeah, we were never quite the same after that. Quit the army and took to posting "WI" on first posts across the internet in honour of Lil' Jim, God rest his soul. Wee-woo.

A shit? They're pretty simple.