Performances include Stick It Up Where The Sun Don't Shine, a musical performance about the search for a missing lottery ticket.
What does WTSDS stand for?
WTSDS stands for Where The Sun Don't Shine
This definition appears frequently and is found in the following Acronym Finder categories:
- Slang/chat, popular culture
- Washington Township Swim Club (Indianapolis, IN)
- Washington Traffic Safety Commission
- Waterford Tricenturena Skating Club (Canada)
- Wet Tantalum Slug Capacitor
- Wilkinstown Target Shooting Club (Ireland)
- World Telecommunication Standardization Conference
- West Tennessee School for the Deaf
- Winslow Township School District (Atco, NJ)
- World Tang Soo Do Association
- With Tears Streaming Down My Face
- William T. Sherman Elementary School
- Watch the Sparks Fly
- Welsh Target Shooting Federation (UK)
- Why Things Sink and Float
- World Traditional Sports Federation (martial arts)
- Web Technical Support Group (University of Exeter; UK)
- Winning the Scholarship Hunt
- Wong Tai Sin Hospital (Hong Kong)
- Where the Streets Have No Name (U2 song)
- Water and Toxic Substances Health Research Division
Samples in periodicals archive:
And he needs his son's help, mostly in administering some medicine where the sun don't shine.
wholesale distribution through Ingram and Baker & Taylor, and pervasive online availability through Amazon, Barnes & Noble and elsewhere, Where the Sun Don't Shine meets consumer demand through both retail and library markets with a suggested retail price of $15.
Byline: HANNAH JONES PLEASE don't hate me, call me odd, shout or tell me to stick that woollen muffler where the sun don't shine.
Smith WELL done the girls of Broughty Ferry for telling men to shove their bowls where the sun don't shine.
The body count in Robert Ben Garant's ham-fisted yarn is surprisingly high, in inverse proportion to the laughs, which are milked from tired physical comedy like the hero concealing a tiny homing device where the sun don't shine so the FBI can track his movements, so to speak.
The body count in Robert Ben Garant's ham-fisted yarn is surprisingly high, in inverse proportion to the laughs, which are milked from tired physical comedy like the overweight hero concealing a tiny homing device where the sun don't shine so the FBI can track his movements - in a manner of speaking.