All in all, it hadn’t been a good day. Bad traffic, a malfunctioning computer, incompetent coworkers and a sore back all made me a seething cauldron of rage. But more importantly for this story, it had been over forty-eight hours since I’d last taken a dump. I’d tried to jumpstart the process, beginning my day with a bowl of bowel-cleansing fiber cereal, following it with six cups of coffee at work, and adding a bean-laden lunch at Taco Bell. As I was returning home from work, my insides let me know with subtle rumbles and the emission of the occasional tiny fart that Big Things would be happening soon. Alas, I had to stop at the mall to go Christmas shopping. I completed this task, and as I was walking past the stores on my way back to the car, I noticed a large sale sign proclaiming, “Everything Must Go!” This was prophetic, for my colon informed me with a sudden violent cramp and a wet, squeaky fart that everything was indeed about to go. I hurried to the mall bathrooms. I surveyed the five stalls, which I have numbered 1 through 5 for your convenience:
2.Clean, but Bathroom Protocol forbids its use, as it’s next to the occupied one.
3.Poo on seat.
4.Poo and toilet paper in bowl, unidentifiable liquid splattered on seat.
5.No toilet paper, no stall door, unidentifiable sticky object near base of toilet.
Clearly, it had to be Stall #2. I trudged back, entered, dropped trousers and sat down. I’m normally a fairly Shameful Sh1tter. I wasn’t happy about being next to the occupied stall, but Big Things were afoot.
I was just getting ready to bear down when all of a sudden the sweet sounds of Beethoven came from next door, followed by a fumbling, and then the sound of a voice answering the ringing phone. As usual for a cell phone conversation, the voice was exactly 8 dB louder than it needed to be. Out of Shameful habit, my sphincter slammed shut. The inane conversation went on and on. Mr. Sh1tter was blathering to Mrs. Sh1tter about the sh1tty day he had. I sat there, cramping and miserable, waiting for him to finish. As the loud conversation dragged on, I became angrier and angrier, thinking that I, too, had a crappy day, but I was too polite to yak about in public. My bowels let me know in no uncertain terms that if I didn’t get crapping soon, my day would be getting even crappier.
1. I think everyone has a movie that they love so much, it actually becomes stressful to watch it with other people. I’ll end up wasting 90 minutes shiftily glancing around to confirm that everyone’s laughing at the right parts, then making sure I laugh just a little bit harder (and a millisecond earlier. to prove that I’m still the only one who really, really gets it.
2. Answering the same letter three times or more in a row on a Scantron test is absolutely petrifying.
3. I fear the day Facebook decides to inform users of who has viewed their profile…and how many times.
4. Nothing brings two people together like the mutual hatred of another person.
5. Every phone should have the same charger.
6. Whenever I’m Facebook stalking someone and I find out that their profile is public I feel like a kid on Christmas morning who just got the Red Ryder BB gun that I always wanted. 546 pictures? Don’t mind if I do!
7. If anyone found out the one password I use for everything I’d be fucked.
8. I never understood why the Lions and Cowboys always get to play on Thanksgiving. Shouldn’t the Patriots play the Redskins, and then steal their stadium afterwords?
9. I wish it were appropriate to say to a complete stranger, “Excuse me, would you like me to show you how to discipline your child?"
10. I had to walk to school 40 miles in the snow… barefoot” was good in it’s day. But imagine the sheer terror on your kid’s face when you drop “When I was born there was no internet
11. I saw a guy walking through two feet of snow in sub-zero temperatures to get to the florist. He must have really fucked up.
12. I think the best compliment is when someone who generally hates everyone decides that they like you.
13. Did any of the villains on Scooby-Doo actually break the law? Last time I checked wearing a rubber mask and being kind of a dick wasn’t a crime.
14. Who made up the unwritten rule that only losers show up to parties early? Make your grand entrance later if you want, but I’ll have had 4 beers, a shot, and double-dipped on the nachos several times by then.
You know, a lot of people have never seen their breaking point. And in a way that’s very sad… The bottom of that pit is where you eventually find a snarl to put on your face and the will to climb out into the light and shape the very world into something more pleasing. More pleasing to you. It turns out the world is very malleable if you put the work into it.
We all get knocked down. Hard, sometimes. Sometimes we get knocked down real hard.
Ya just can’t beat a person who never gives up, though.
The breaking point. That’s where the best life lesson is. You felt so little and so hurt, you even wanted to just give up and die. But you’re still here, right? You shrugged it off because it sucks but you can bear the emotional weight of it. Day after day, ending it all just doesn’t make it onto the to-do list. Maybe ’cause you’ve got other shit to do. Maybe because you know you’re better than that. Maybe you’ve got the same thirst for greatness we all do and you’re not satisfied with where you’re at so far. Or maybe just because you don’t think it’s the right thing to do.
So it sucks, but you trudge through each day anyway. This is the key to everything in the world. How many people start up a workout routine but then fade off because one day they wake up and it’s too dark, too cold, too early? Those people don’t ever get in shape. But you can. You can because dark, cold, and early are pesky but in the grand sum of depressing things you’ve had to deal with, waking up early is trivial. it’s kind of a joke. Working out is hard and you feel weak and powerless because you can barely lift the thing and you so badly want to just put the bar down and go home when you’ve set a goal and your body gives out halfway there. So a lot of people do. They give up, make up some excuse, and walk out the door. How many days have you had a chance to do that? How many times have you hit your breaking point, but then shoved it back instead of breaking? So people like you can don’t hit boundaries and go home. People like you have the ability to stick it out and finish the job. Even if the job sucks, you’ve survived worse. So you can finish the workout and then stack on five more reps because fuck it and fuck it all and fuck the bar and everything sucks and this hurts but that’s nothing new so five more and then five more and then five fucking more.
One Of The Greatest American Novel, The Great Gatsby, Accurately And Concisely Summed Up In The Styling Of 4chan
Be student that wants to learn about bond
move to this new city called West egg in Long island
Only relatives I have at this place is my cousin, Daisy
She’s a solid 7/10, married to some compulsive asshole named Tom
Cheats on her with this whore, Myrtle, who is also married
Tom keeps his relationship in the down low and always have sex parties with Myrtle and bunch of plebs
Be at dinner with Daisy and Tom when first arrived
introduced me to Jordan, she’s pretty cute, 8/10
Learn about this "legendary guy" named Jay Gatsby
Jay is this rich guy that throw amazing parties, rich, charming, as alpha as you can get basically
Got invited to his party, about to shit my pants
went to the party, first intimidated by Jay
He called me old sport, English gentleman type
totally cool, doesn’t have an ego or anything
started chit chatting away about his past
found out that he actually knows my cousin Daisy from back in the day
bought his house, located in the East Egg, which is directly across the river from Daisy’s house
would peak at the house at night just to get a glimpse of her
Why? Why would a show aimed at little girls attract such a large audience of non-little-girls? Most bronies would give a simple answer: “This show is awesome”. But it goes deeper than that.
Clearly it’s a good show, with good characters, good writing, and good animation. But that hardly explains the scale of the brony phenomenon.
The big factor is the brony community itself. The community sustains and expands itself, and the show has become a proxy for a variety of values and relationships that are much more important and fundamental than the actual show. Allow me to explain:
Though we don’t often realize it, young men (approx. age 13-29) are constrained by a variety of social norms. (The same applies to any other demographic, of course.) We tend to enjoy badass things like superheroes and martial arts. (Well we’re mostly internet nerds so we don’t do much martial arts, but we watch martial arts movies etc.) We spend a lot of time playing Halo or Modern Warfare, killing aliens and terrorists. This is all fine; we actually do enjoy this stuff. But for most of our lives, we have been socially prohibited from enjoying anything cute, pure or innocent. (Even our comedies are crude.) This prohibition is so strong that we don’t even realize it’s there; we don’t even think about various styles of entertainment which don’t fit within our social norms. (And those who deviate are often derrided as “fags” etc.) This has created a kind of emotional malnutrition; we have not allowed ourselves to consume as much cuteness, pureness or innocence in our media as we would actually like to consume.
MLP:FiM contains all of these elements in spades, with the strong bonus that it’s a well-made show overall. With the advent of the brony community, young men have collectively granted each other permission to rewrite our own social norms and relieve our malnutrition. The existence of the community encourages new bronies to “come out of the closet” as it were, not to admit that we are gay (which we typically aren’t), but to admit that we enjoy these elements which are typically regarded as feminine and/or socially prohibited to us. Thus the community enables our enjoyment of the show, and the exhilaration we experience at successfully changing our own social norms is one of the primary feelings that we share with each other. (Though most people don’t think this through in such detail, and reduce the entire phenomenon to “This show rocks!”)
The nightmares I experienced as a college janitor all happened in women’s restrooms.
Men don’t flush, piss all over, clog toilets, and somehow shit on the toilet seat from time to time. Auto-flush really has made the world a better place. Onetime we had a guy we dubbed the Mad Picker because we think he would pick his nose until it bled and then probably shook his head like a head banger at a GWAR concert. That was the worst men’s room mess we saw. Usually men just got gross but rarely disturbing and most of the time we really just dealt with guys who have piss poor aim and a simple mop and bucket dealt with the situation.
The women’s restrooms were a consistently disturbing experience. A complete disregard for proper disposal of feminine hygiene products (DO NOT FLUSH THAT STUFF, EVER!), lots of piss on the seats because girls "hover", lots of shit on the seats because girls "hover". Toilets got clogged all the time due to the aforementioned feminine hygiene products and no one would report it out of shame of being accused that they were the one responsible.
Oh, and let’s not forget Menstrual Finger Painting. You’d think that if you saw it once or twice it wouldn’t bother you anymore, but nope… every single one of those artistic alternative medium modern murals succeeds in being a disturbing commentary on the human condition.
I always get a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach whenever I see someone being led to their own execution. I suppose I put myself mentally in their place; I try to imagine what it feels like to know without a doubt that these are my final moments on earth.
You wake up that morning, and you know that instead of going to sleep tonight, you’re going to die. You won’t wake up tomorrow. You’ll never be able to see your family again; you’ll never see your friends, you’ll never accomplish those goals and dreams that you might have set for the future. You have only one destination, but you don’t really know for certain what comes after. Is it going to hurt, or will you die before the pain hits? Does dying itself hurt? What does it feel like? It’s something you’ve never felt before, and no one has ever been able to truly tell you what it’s like because anyone that’s ever experienced it has never come back to explain.
Eventually, after hours that feel like years, the guards appear to take you away. Perhaps they give you a chance to speak to a member of the clergy for one final act of contrition. Would you take it? Would you confess, would you beg for forgiveness from some god that doesn’t seem to care about your fate in this moment?
Regardless of your choice, you are soon whisked away. You won’t be coming back to this cell; the clothes that you’re wearing are the last thing you’ll ever have on; the food, if you ate anything, in your belly is the last food you’ll ever eat. If you’re thirsty, if you’re hungry, tough. You’re going to die this way, whether or not you’re ready to go through with it.
As you enter the execution chamber, you suddenly realize that you are surrounded by people that hate you. These people quite literally want you dead, and they intend to see it through. This is how you will spend your last moments; surrounded and drowning in hatred. You might think back to your childhood; to a moment in the summer when you were 8 years old. There wasn’t a care in the world then, you were happy and joyful; you were surrounded by friends and life seemed endless before you. It seemed then that you could accomplish anything; you felt like you could be king of the world.
The Most Awesome Description Of A Woman’s O-Face….”You have fulfilled the most important role of what a man is supposed to be”
An O-face is by far the sexiest and most seductive thing in the world to me.
To a man, or at least to me, my GF O-face silently reassures “You are everything society has told you you should be. You have fulfilled the most important role of what a man is supposed to be and have been deemed worthy. You are such a manly, manly man that I have completely lost all control of myself, down to my most basic motor and language skills. You have unraveled me, and I am falling apart beneath you, yet I trust you so completely to be totally and absolutely vulnerable before you. You make me happy and are the only one who can make me feel this way. Also, in ways that can be scientifically quantified, your dick gets me extremely high.”
My GF’s eyes always grow really wide, and search my own. I can see surprise, love, and a dash of fright in hers. I can read “I will love you forever, and for this brief instant I see, feel, hear, smell, and taste nothing but you. You are my entire universe for a handful of seconds. I have some reservations about trusting anyone this much, but make love to me. Gentle or rough, just satisfy yourself and have me completely.”
Then there are the squeaks, gasping breaths, and moans she makes, and those add another dimension to the whole situation. Honestly, I think I enjoy her orgasm more than mine. The best is when we both cum at the same time. I can’t describe it, but it reminds me of those Infinity mirrors…
The lack of control my GF experiences during an orgasm is complete and total bliss for me. I can’t help but be influenced by growing up in a world where media and society has taught my brain that a man MUST be able to please a woman. It’s almost the male equivalent of how media makes many women feel like they must be thin. Every one of my GF’s orgasms is a reassurance of my own value, both to her as her other half, and also an individual.