I’m getting a little tired of all this human noise…what can I say?
Archive for the ‘stuff’ Category
I decided a while back on forums and stuff to put my location as “your dad’s house”. I’m a girl, so “your mom” jokes seem sort of inappropriate coming from me. Thus, your dad’s house. Why the house? No idea.
We would like to assure our huge fanbase that while nonsense has recently undergone a facelift, it’s just New Look, Same Old Taste!
Fucking pigs, thought Regina as she walked past the construction site.
She could feel their eyes on her from two blocks away. Instantly, she had felt a deep rage build within her, rising up through her belly and constricting her throat with an amazing amount of force.
Now, now, she told herself. You’ve got to calm down or it’s going to be so much worse.
She knew she was more noticeable when she was emotional. If she could make herself devoid of emotion, it would be like being invisible.
Ten deep breaths later, she began again to walk towards the construction site, feeling herself growing more calm with each step. She regulated her breathing so that its rhythym exactly matched that of her stride. She even heard herself counting, in a soft voice, in her own head.
One…two…three…four…
The click of her heels on the pavement reminded her a little of a song she had heard earlier in the day, and another voice in her head began to hum it, while she still continued counting.
She felt herself beginning to smile, forgetting for a moment her drive to try and appear stoic and apathetic. And then suddenly she realized, what the fuck how can there be two voices in my brain?
what?
huh…who are you?
I’m you, doofus! Who else would I be!
I dunno…a ghost…or maybe another personality…
Can’t I be the Devil?
Well, sure, I don’t see why not, but seriously I don’t believe in that shit.
I know you don’t, duh. I already told you I’m you.
Oh my god, I’m going fucking crazy!
Mostly likely, yes, but also, seriously, you should watch where you’re going.
When the construction workers finally noticed her five hours later, they wondered how they hadn’t seen her walk into the construction site. She had, after all, fallen in a huge hole in the sidewalk and at least 20 feet into a tunnel they had dug under the street. They concluded that she had to have been invisible, joking at first, but then later wondering if that really had been the case after all. A few of them were even convinced that she had been invisible, but they didn’t share these opinions with their co-workers, but kept them locked up tight, for sharing only with spouses or mistresses, or even a gigalo in the case of Mrs. Jacobsen, late at night, just before sleep stole them away.
Oh, and it totally was the fucking Devil. Awesome, huh?
I don’t think I will ever be able to drink/smoke enough of anything to properly explain how this inside joke started or why it is the funniest thing you will ever see.
I know it doesn’t FEEL like it is the funniest thing ever, but I assure you: it IS.
Or not.
This is the first in a series called “Horrible True Stories”. All are true (or purported to be) and 1-3 sentences usually.
This is a touchy subject. Most people have pimples on their buttocks at least once or twice during their lifetimes. But we see that porn stars, nude models, actors, and even that nudist who lives down the street, often have clear skin on the tuchus. How can this be? Are these people not human, or do they have some beauty secret? Well, the answer is simple: yes, they are human (except for that nudist; that guy is clearly from outer space. Have you seen his junk? It does not look normal at all!). And, yes, they have some beauty secrets, which I will share with you now:
Step 1: Stop putting French fries in your underpants. If you are like me, you were raised with the great American tradition of filling your unders with fries before starting your day. There are few things as exhiliarating! However, that is a lot of grease and salt to be rubbing into your ass all day, no matter what Benjamin Franklin thought. The hardest part about this step was explaining my decision to my family. They do not understand my anti-French-fries-in-the-underwear stance. Perhaps they never will, but I am proud to have made the choice to stop.
Step 2: wash your ass once in a while you filthy fucking hippy! Fuck!
Step 3: Seriously, wash it. Use some soap, for chrissakes.
Step 4: hey, did you ever see that movie Dancing in the Dark? Oh man, it’s really slow and sort of boring for the first part, but once the woman has the breakdown it gets going. It was really pretty good, but I don’t know if it’s the kind of movie you would want to watch often. It was sort of heavy. I never understood why it was in the horror section at Video USA. Omigod, do you remember that place? I hung out there so much. Well, until my friends quit working there anyway.
If you follow these steps, you should find yourself with a nice, zit-free ass in no time. And I cannot stress enough the importance of the washing. I can smell your ass from here, dude, so I can tell you need to do that. Yes, I am fucking serious. No, it’s not Josh’s lunch that I smell…not unless he has started eating ass sandwiches or something. Dude, I am trying to help you. Don’t be so defensive about it. Everyone here knows you have a problem. Now, go wash your ass so we can watch this movie I rented. Yes, it’s Dancing in the Dark. Why else did you think I mentioned it?
Something Awful’s Photoshop Phriday today features hilariousness inspired by reCaptcha text (those things where you have two type in a couple of words to prove that you are human). It’s got stuff like this, only way better:
For the good stuff, go HERE.
