Writing

Premature Ejaculation Explained By NASA Mission Control

September 3, 2013 | No Comments » | Topics: Funny Pictures, Writing |

E-Minus 90 Seconds.

Virgin 18 to Mission Control: foreplay checks complete.

Mission Control Speaking: Roger that Virgin 18, Ground Teams Sound Off.

Pudendal Nerve Go.

Spinal Cord Go.

Parasympathetic Nerve Go.

Corpus Spongiosum Go.

Corpus Cavernosa 1 Go.

Corpus Cavernosa 2 Go.

Mission Control Speaking: Shuttle is now Erect.

E-Minus 60 Seconds.

Scrotum Go.

Vas Deferens Go.

Mission Control Speaking: Crew is now approaching Ejaculatory Duct.

VIRGIN 18 TO MISSION CONTROL: CONSENT HAS BEEN GRANTED, PENETRATION IN 1…2…3!

E-Minus 10 Seconds.

VIRGIN 18 TO MISSION CONTROL: PENETRATION ACHIEVED!

Mission Control Speaking: Roger that Virgin 18, Emission checks proceeding

VIRGIN 18 TO MISSION CONTROL: REQUEST TO DELAY EMISSION!!!!!!

(more…)

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The Perfect Meatball Recipe

August 26, 2013 | No Comments » | Topics: Writing |

Hamburger, Bread crumbs, an egg or two, ketchup, mustard, Worcestershire, your favorite spices. Salt/Pepper. Mash together. form into golf ball size balls. Make jokes about playing with your balls. Put on a sheet pan. ~30 mins at 350. Find cute server. Ask her if she’d like to put your balls in her mouth. Sample her on your meatballs. If you’re not retarded, she’ll tell you that they’re great. Ask for her number, take her to a nice restaurant, order a few drinks. Afterwards walk down the street to see a reggae band. Groove out with your date (anyone can dance to reggae) Find the guy with the biggest dreadlocks and buy a joint from him. Get stoned. Get some greasy late night pizza. Buy more booze before the gas station closes. Go home together and get plastered until you have the spins. Have the sloppiest sex of your life. Have her put your balls in her mouth (it doesn’t matter if you shaved them at this point). After sex, she’ll probably feel like vomiting. Fall asleep. Wake up hungover, without your clothes or dignity, covered in vomit. Make her coffee and give her some ibuprofen (it’s the least you could do). Take her home. See each other the next day at work. Avoid one another. Say nothing. Weeks later find out that she’s pregnant. Fight about what should be done about the unborn child. She decides to keep it (cus y’know she’s pro-life). Be admonished by your family and hers (because it’s all your fault, right?). Be disallowed to visit the child in the hospital. Have her name it something stupid like Kelsee or Judah. Pay child support with little to no relationship with your child. Years pass. Live a sad lonely life. Contemplate suicide. Draft a suicide note. Plan your death. Combine hamburger, Bread crumbs, an egg or two, ketchup, mustard, Worcestershire, your favorite spices. Salt/Pepper. Mash together. form into golf ball size balls. Make jokes about playing with your balls. Put on a sheet pan. ~30 mins at 350. Put your balls in your mouth (hey they ain’t bad). Forget about killing yourself (and where I was going with this). Enjoy your meat balls. Get a letter the next day saying the child isn’t yours (it was that douchebaggy male server, Brian) Clean your house. Take a shower. Go to work (you gotta close again tonight). Be ok with your life.

(via)

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If You Want Your Mind Totally Blown, Read THIS!

July 29, 2013 | 4 Comments » | Topics: Hall Of Fame, Writing |

the egg andy weir

The Egg

By: Andy Weir

You were on your way home when you died.

It was a car accident. Nothing particularly remarkable, but fatal nonetheless. You left behind a wife and two children. It was a painless death. The EMTs tried their best to save you, but to no avail. Your body was so utterly shattered you were better off, trust me.

And that’s when you met me.

“What… what happened?” You asked. “Where am I?”

“You died,” I said, matter-of-factly. No point in mincing words.

“There was a… a truck and it was skidding…”

“Yup,” I said.

“I… I died?”

“Yup. But don’t feel bad about it. Everyone dies,” I said.

You looked around. There was nothingness. Just you and me. “What is this place?” You asked. “Is this the afterlife?”

“More or less,” I said.

“Are you god?” You asked.

“Yup,” I replied. “I’m God.”

“My kids… my wife,” you said.

“What about them?”

“Will they be all right?”

“That’s what I like to see,” I said. “You just died and your main concern is for your family. That’s good stuff right there.”

(more…)

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Another Example Of Not Having Respect For Your Opponent: Shaolin Monk Gets Knocked The Fu*k Out!

July 27, 2013 | 3 Comments » | Topics: Sports, Writing |

Much like the Anderson Silva/Chris Weidman match, leaving your hands down to disrespect your opponent has dire consequences, as this Shaolin Monk learns this invaluable lesson the hard way. Dude drops his hands and lets the dude tee off on him, gets knocked out worse than Deebo. Skip to 4:20 for the action.

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Human Behavior 101: Why We Don’t Just Have Sex With Anyone

June 3, 2013 | No Comments » | Topics: Writing |

human behavior

by Unidan

One of the immediate reasons for not having sex with everyone is because there is a cost associated with doing so!

If you accept that the idea of "life" is to propagate your genes, and thus, you want your genes to be the most fit they can be, then making a pairing with a "low-quality" partner will hamper your genes in the long run!

While the cost of sex is comparatively low for males physically, since sperm is a relatively "cheap" gamete, it is quite expensive for females! Once impregnated, a female, as everyone knows, has to gestate an infant for nine months! That’s nine months of moving slower, needing to be more careful, and then however many years to raisea baby into adulthood!

If you mated with everyone, you would need to hope that random chance slotted you with a great partner! For those on the extremely genetically "unfit" spectrum, random mating would be great, because usually, they would mate with higher quality partners!

Those on the other side of the bell curve would, by the same rationale, do worse, as they would typically end up mating with lower-quality partners.

If we’re just talking about sex for pleasure, that’s a slightly different story. But similarly, every mating with a lower-quality partner would mean you weren’t having sex with a higher quality partner. This could lead to reduced quality elsewhere besides children. Perhaps "quality" in a mate is governed by resource giving, or attention, or help with social problems or tasks.

In reality, we don’t operate like bonobos simply because we’ve evolved under different circumstances, so it’s difficult to simply rewire our brains to behave as such! Even if we don’t like to think so, there is a nearly constant assessment of "quality" going on in our social interactions.

(via)

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What’s It Like To Be Addicted To Heroin

May 24, 2013 | No Comments » | Topics: Writing |

heroin addict

by notthecolorblue

It’s like having the worst girlfriend ever, who you are madly in love with but who treats you like shiet, makes you sell your car and house and furniture and even your high school yearbook that your crush from 10th grade signed and told you that you were cute. She’s told you to stop talking to anyone you’ve ever cared about, they don’t want to talk to you while you’re still dating her anyways. You sell your clothes so she can go out and buy new ones. You eat ramen every meal so she ca eat at the best restaurant in town. In the morning you think about her and in the evening you think about her and when you go to take a crap but you can’t because you’re constipated you’re reminded of her. You wake up and if she’s not in bed with you you get the chills, your eyes water, you have diarrhea, you sneeze, your muscles ache, you have anxiety, you have depression, you don’t want to eat because food isn’t appealing even though your stomach is rumbling, you don’t particularly want to drink but you’re dehydrated so you force yourself to drink some water, and during all this your skin is crawling as if it was dirty covered in goose-bumps from who knows where and you wish you were still asleep so you could at least pretend she was still in the bed with you. But you’re awake now. So you get out of bed, and you go find her. Maybe today you won’t have to do something that compromises your morals to find out where she’s gone, but really you don’t even care, as long as there is a way. You walk an hour and forty five minutes to get on the bus. You travel for another 45 minutes on public transportation. You get off at the train station in the bad part of town. All the while you have to shiet so bad but you know once you find her that will be solved. You’re hungry but dont want to eat, once you find her you can eat. You feel dirty and sad and anxious but once you find her she’ll bathe you and make you happy and calm. But right now your walking through the ghetto. You walk another 20 minutes. Maybe it’s cold and raining, if so you are so so so cold. Maybe it’s hotter than hell and that just makes you feel dirtier. You find a guy that knows where she is. He says he’ll go get her and bring her to you. And the cops pass you as you’re talking to him and they have to know what’s up. What’s someone like you doing in this part of town? So the 10 minute wait for her to come back to you accompanied by the guy who could give two shiets about you as long as you bring him money seems like an eternity. Maybe he’ll run off with her and your money. Maybe she wont be looking so hot today, maybe she won’t be herself. Maybe he’ll come back with a woman you don’t know and don’t want to meet but now your money is gone and you’re broke and sick and a good few hours away before you can get some more money and the world might as well be over in your opinion. But your girlfriend comes back, he brings her, and she gives you a kiss on the cheek. Then you go home, to your mattress and your overdue rent and the lack of food and the piled up bills and the same clothes you’ve been wearing for three days and your parents that have called but you never answer and your friends that invite you out but you never go, but you’re home and she’s there with you. Eventually you go to bed. But she’s never there the next morning, and you know she won’t be, and you wish someone invented a way to pause time, or go back in time, to that first time you met her, the first couple months when you guys hung out, before she made you sell everything to be with her, but you can’t and you’re fuked. And you know it.

I’m not going to romanticize it, that won’t do you or me or anyone reading any good.

(via)

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The Most Epic Taking A Dump Story Ever Told

May 13, 2013 | No Comments » | Topics: Funny Pictures, Writing |

poop story

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:

1.Occupied.

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.

(more…)

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The Hilariously Random Musings Of Everyday People

May 10, 2013 | 1 Comment » | Topics: Writing |

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 fuked.

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 fuked 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.

(more…)

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Quite Possibly The Most Motivating Thing You Will Ever Read

April 30, 2013 | No Comments » | Topics: Motivation, Writing |

motivation

by onwardAgain

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 shiet 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 fuk it and fuk it all and fuk the bar and everything sucks and this hurts but that’s nothing new so five more and then five more and then five fuking more.

(more…)

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One Of The Greatest American Novel, The Great Gatsby, Accurately And Concisely Summed Up In The Styling Of 4chan

April 29, 2013 | No Comments » | Topics: Writing |

great gatsby

by krizalid70559

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

started dating

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 shiet 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

stalker mode

(more…)

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