The act of forcing lemons up one’s asshole for the sheer joy of it, and squeezing the lemon cum out in the process, as this makes for great lube.
Person 1: Bro I fell asleep with my vibrator in my ass overnight and it was so nasty in the morning!
Person 2: Honestly you deserve it. You could have just been lemon shoveling - it feels amazing and there’s no way you’ll forget you have lemons in your asshole.
Person 2: Honestly you deserve it. You could have just been lemon shoveling - it feels amazing and there’s no way you’ll forget you have lemons in your asshole.
by Thicc Yeet October 28, 2019
Get the lemon shoveling mug.A low-level, migrant archaeologist who works on Cultural Resource Management(CRM) projects and survives on a relatively low wage (for someone with a BA) plus per diem. Low wages and transient lifestyle are often overcome by living in their pick-up truck or camping. The term is generally pejorative when used by non-professionals but is used pridefully by archaeologists as a mark of having paid one's dues and having done true dirt archaeology (as opposed to academic archaeology) for dirt pay. It is considered a rite of passage.
A shovelbum is the opposite of an archaeostitute.
A shovelbum is the opposite of an archaeostitute.
by Matt Vaccaro December 17, 2006
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shovie • shovel • Soviet Union • Shovelface • Soviet • soviet russia • shovel head • shove • Shoveling • shovel-ready
A very messed up shovel. Can also be used as an adjective to describe a shovel, and also as an insult or a compliment.
Bob:He has a very messed up shoverk.
Susan: He has a large shoverk.
Dan:Her face looks like a shoverk shovel.
Susan: He has a large shoverk.
Dan:Her face looks like a shoverk shovel.
by Foolish Person December 14, 2021
Get the shoverk mug.by gymnasty September 14, 2010
Get the e-shove mug.To trick, prank, or monkey someone.
Term used in sa-mp (San Andreas Multiplayer) community. It comes from a story of a guy who made a fake account on Crazybobs Cops and Robbers to troll his friend. He named the account $hody after a Shody Used Autos (stylized as $hody Used Autos).
Term used in sa-mp (San Andreas Multiplayer) community. It comes from a story of a guy who made a fake account on Crazybobs Cops and Robbers to troll his friend. He named the account $hody after a Shody Used Autos (stylized as $hody Used Autos).
by Elephant_CnR May 14, 2020
Get the shodied mug.Some say it thirsts for blood; others say it is an innocent implement forced to do the bidding of murderous fiends. A disturbingly recurrent murder weapon, the Travelling Shovel Of Death appears in multiple different mediums (Usually novels), wherin it is featured murdering an innocent victim.
Henry knew his street well, but he didn't like it. The parameters stretched; the shadows hid secrets; the wind, ever restless, tossed the cloaks of strangers who glared from street corners. But he was sure in his safety. He knew the number of steps to his doorway. He knew where to lift his feet a little higher to avoid tripping on sidewalk cracks hidden in the dark. He knew who to avoid - at least he thought he did, in his naiveté.
A cat was waiting on his doorstep, that night. Dark, soft fur, long legs and a thrumming purr, yellow eyes glinting with reflections of far-off streetlights.
It smiled, sharp, glistening teeth ever white against the shadow of its fur.
In 42 years, Henry had never once seen a cat smile. Perhaps a trick of the light, or an illusion, he thought. Or maybe not. He knelt, looking the cat in the eyes.
It smiled at him, wider.
Wider.
A shadow moved; soft leather brushed against carpet, and a coat loosened its folds. "You're drunk again," said the voice. "Do you know, Henry, how much I dislike drunks?"
The cat hadn't moved; Henry glanced to the side, and caught a glance of soft brown shoes.
"Mr Woon," he slurred. "Ian. Mate. I just..."
He stopped.
Mr Woon smiled at him; a slow, langorious smile, not unlike that of his cat.
Then slowly, deliberately, he rested the shovel's tip on Henry's neck.
"I dislike drunks very much, Henry," he whispered.
Then he put his foot on the travelling shovel of death, and pushed down.
A cat was waiting on his doorstep, that night. Dark, soft fur, long legs and a thrumming purr, yellow eyes glinting with reflections of far-off streetlights.
It smiled, sharp, glistening teeth ever white against the shadow of its fur.
In 42 years, Henry had never once seen a cat smile. Perhaps a trick of the light, or an illusion, he thought. Or maybe not. He knelt, looking the cat in the eyes.
It smiled at him, wider.
Wider.
A shadow moved; soft leather brushed against carpet, and a coat loosened its folds. "You're drunk again," said the voice. "Do you know, Henry, how much I dislike drunks?"
The cat hadn't moved; Henry glanced to the side, and caught a glance of soft brown shoes.
"Mr Woon," he slurred. "Ian. Mate. I just..."
He stopped.
Mr Woon smiled at him; a slow, langorious smile, not unlike that of his cat.
Then slowly, deliberately, he rested the shovel's tip on Henry's neck.
"I dislike drunks very much, Henry," he whispered.
Then he put his foot on the travelling shovel of death, and pushed down.
by WillohWisp September 22, 2011
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