offensive things to call people when they’re mean to you:
- crispy nipple
- the white stringy things in bananas
- tangled umbilical cord
- nash grier
- iceberg lettuce: world’s blandest green
- watery afro
- fountain water at school that never tastes right
- voldemort’s breathing holes
if you have nothing good to say say it
i hate stuart little and i don;t think he deserved 3 movies
I fucking looked it up and I still have no idea what you mean by that
JESUS FUCK do you see the second definition
Puberty gave them noses fingers and feet, fight me
So there I was, ready to take a shower. I mean, I was dirty, a little greasy, a shower was not such a horrible idea. People take showers, amiright? Of course!
I get naked.
I’m talking the exact opposite reason why you ever went to your grandmother’s house.
No cookies. Blatant nudity.
That’s how folks take showers these days, right? Well, I pull back the curtain…
And there it was.
This…thing…sitting on the little soap/shower/pube shelf. Not a care in the world, like it’s been there for years. “What the fuck is that?” I think to myself.
Now, what follows is the exact pattern of thought that took me from rational human being to Sloth in 3.4 seconds.
“Is that a Red Lobster cheesy biscuit? Holy fuck that’s a Red Lobster cheesy biscuit. OMG why would someone leave that unattended. Those things are so delicious. I’m gonna eat the fuck out of it. Man, I can’t wait to see whoever left it’s face when they come back to find that someone ate their cheesy biscuit’s fuck. Ohhh boy.”
Then my brain sent a message to my arm that said, “Reach for that cheesy biscuit, bitch. WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR!?”
As you must already know, we are all contractually bound to make a dickload of mistakes throughout our lifetime. Some of those mistakes are so big that they forever hinder our world and warrant entire chapters in our children’s history books. However, most mistakes have the dubious providence of merely haunting one’s soul and festering amidst the subconscious for always and eternity.
This was, nearly, one of those.
If my adjacency to failure could be measured, the only possible unit of measurement to appropriate it would be “baby condoms”. And no, I do not mean those horrendous papoose-like titty-cribs that the slovenly carriage their spawn around in in Wal-Mart, I mean condoms that a baby would wear.
My adjacency to failure was roughly 1 and a half Kiddie Trojans.
I’m not sure what stopped me, be it cosmic or supernatural, but it gave my brain just enough time to ask itself some rather important questions regarding this little tub treasure. Questions like:
“WHO, THE FUCK, WOULD LEAVE A CHEESY BISCUIT IN MY SHOWER?!”
And inquiries such as:
“AND WHY WERE YOU GOING TO EAT IT, MORON?!”
Seriously, was I so hungry that I would wantonly disobey all the integral conditioning and survival imprinting my parents bestowed upon me like the ever important, “Um, don’t eat that biscuit retard, you don’t know where it’s been or whose it is and also you found it in the shower.” in order to satisfy something so benign as a munchie?
That, I’m sorry to say, was pretty much my reality.
An early morning introspective psychological evaluation of a sad, hungry, naked man who almost ate a bar of soap.
remember when people choked on cinnamon to entertain the internet
That long suffering expression of dogs who deeply, deeply love their humans, even the tiny, slightly annoying ones, is the best thing ever :)
so here’s a fun story about this movie. guess who loves this movie? me! i do! i love this movie. i love this movie so much that when i was in the 7th grade and i saw “first wives club 2” on pay per view i was like: HELL YEAH!! FIRST WIVES CLUB TWO!! NO ONE TOLD ME THERE WAS A SEQUEL!!!
here’s the synopsis for first wives club 2:
disgruntled first wives take their ex-husbands’ new lovers under their wing.
sounds great, right? awesome viewing material for a precocious 11-year-old.
so i buy this movie, and like, three minutes into it i’m starting to feel suspicious?? like it’s really low quality and my girls are nowhere in sight?? how come none of the first wives are the same?? how come they’re alone in a bedroom with mood lighting?? why is she taking off her shirt?? why are they both taking off their shirts?? WHY ARE THEY—
here’s what i did not know about first wives club 2:
- it is a lesbian porno of no relation to the beloved 1996 classic.
so of course i, horrified that i’ve accidentally bought porn on my family’s account (and in that state of panic that kids work themselves into whenever anything regarding sex is mentioned), quickly shut off the TV and go upstairs and watch an episode of veggie tales to like, cleanse my soul and apologize to jesus, and that’s that.
EXCEPT, OF COURSE:
- you have to pay for pay per view.
so the end of the month comes and i have completely put this incident out of my mind, haha, i accidentally bought porn, how funny, TELL NO ONE. right? and i’m sitting at a nice dinner with my mother, my stepfather, and my very religious aunt deb, and we’re just talking about farm things, whatever, when suddenly my mother puts her fork down and says, “okay, there’s something we need to discuss. as a family.”
- AS A FAMILY.
and i’m like, running through a list of people i know who could conceivably be dead, and fantasizing about my mother announcing that she’s going to buy me My Own Computer Just Because U Earned It Kiddo, and she pulls out a piece of paper that says DIRECTV across the top. and i’m like: OH NO.
"i received the tv bill today," my mother said, and i was like, shoveling potatoes into my mouth as fast as i could because i knew that when i went to PORN PRISON they weren’t going to feed me this kind of quality starch. "does anybody want to tell me who purchased the pornography?"
as a reminder, a quick table survey:
- my mother, surprised and disappointed by the porn bill (innocent)
- my stepfather, a grumbly old cowboy who just wants to sing along to kenny chesney and watch the hunt for red october (innocent)
- my aunt deb, a super religious catholic whose best friend is a nun named Sister Placid (innocent)
- me, the 11-year-old with a mouthful of potatoes who definitely purchased the lesbian pornography
my mother said, “i’m not going to ask again.”
my aunt looked at my stepdad. my stepdad looked at my aunt. NOBODY LOOKED AT ME, THE 11-YEAR-OLD WITH A MOUTHFUL OF POTATOES WHO DEFINITELY PURCHASED THE LESBIAN PORNOGRAPHY.
my mother shook her head and put the bill down. “this was incredibly inappropriate,” she said. “skip, deb, whoever. buy that shit on your own time. i’m not paying for it. what if molly had seen it?”
- WHAT IF MOLLY HAD SEEN IT?
"don’t expose my kid to that crap."
- MY KID
- TO THAT CRAP
"if you want to watch porn, fine, but do it in private and don’t expect me to pay for it. i can’t believe one of you did that in the living room."
- I CAN’T BELIEVE ONE OF YOU DID THAT
- IN THE LIVING ROOM
but molly, why didn’t you own up to it and explain that it was an accident?
- are you fucking kidding
- i did not want to go to porn prison
the fun conclusion to this story is that i never owned up to it, which means that there are 3 people in the world who have not solved the mystery of the lesbian porn. a quick survey:
- my mother, who lives every day wondering whose porn she paid for
- my stepfather, who probably wishes he knew less about his wife’s sister’s porn preferences
- my aunt, who probably wishes she knew less about her sister’s husband’s porn preferences
but molly, why don’t you own up to it now, with the safety of time and distance and the knowledge that porn prison isn’t real?
- are you fucking kidding
- this is the best thing i’ve ever done