Mr Tastee posted:

Uncle. My dad is somewhere in Florida doing god knows what.

Anyways, I might be a shitbag, but I'm not a babykiller.

a creepy colon posted:

*flash back to 1991, OP is 4 yrs old on the carpet

Dad: "This loving kid wont even try and crawl, what is wrong with him?"

Mom: "Oh hes just a sweet wittle lazy angel!"

*Dad tosses a few blocks towards the OP. OP looks at them, confused and begins to sleep face down in the shag

Dad: "Jesus christ, look at this little human being he wont even stack blocks, im outta here"

*Dad flies to florida and starts family with real son who is capable of working more than 10 hrs a week

Volume posted:

katlington posted:

its 1130am and im on my 5nd joint of the day as i lazily browse craigslist for a hitman

Joementum posted:

Mitt Romney will speak at tonight's RNC event aboard the USS Midway. He will arrive by helicopter.

comes along bort posted:

Was his private jet not cleared to land?

Trabisnikof posted:

His car elevator was broken.

Joementum posted:

It's nice that he gets to visit one now after only finding out that they existed a couple years ago.

Joementum posted:

It turns out that the thing about Romney arriving by helicopter was a false press rumor.

Stupid_Sexy_Flander posted:

Yup, that's Target, and those are 50 shades of grey cock rings right next to the kids toothbrushes.

Tochiazuma posted:

Holy poo poo who knew mothers had sex

Stupid_Sexy_Flander posted:

I knew your mother did

Supernorn posted:

The fact is, with a few exceptions you sucked any fun out of me posting here. I wasn't required to. I'm a goon that just happens to be contributing to a game that I enjoy working on. You can't really expect me to take this thread seriously when you guys are just showing utter contempt towards me, the game or any reasonable means towards a discussion. So I'm going to peace out and you guys can continue doing whatever it is you think this is. Merry Christmas!

Rrussom posted:

Gatekeeper posted:

They have super white skin, sometimes with freckles, big red drunk people noses, curly hair (often red) they wear ridiculous plaid outfits usually all patchworked to make them look like bums, and they do these stumbling around like a drunkard funny routines. I mean, maybe now they're sort of their own thing but they HAD to start as the irish version of blackface, right? It seems really logical to me but everyone thinks I'm just racist against irish people when I bring it up.

Rambling Robot posted:

it does make sense.

an irish woman's vagina kind of is a clown car.

Mr Tastee posted:

She gets on my nerves a lot. I know it can't really be helped, though. It just really got to a boiling point that day.

I should mention my suicidal tendencies. As I went through my teens to my adult years, I became more and more obsessed with the idea of killing myself. Sometimes I would choke myself until my desire for air overcame my desire to die, and and there were times I would stare at knives and try to overcome the mental barriers that kept me from stabbing myself with them. During September of 2013 I attempted to commit suicide at college because I was having a stressful day (did poorly in classes, lost my wallet, got banned from SA, and my probation on another website was extended because of the ban). For some reason they let me out of the emergency room the next morning. A few days later I made a video of myself with a knife to my throat and threatened the moderators of the other forum that I would kill myself if they did not unban me. Instead, they reported my IP address to the authorities. Had my mom not been planning on checking me in to a mental health facility the next day, I would've been taken by the police that night. In April of 2014, I attempted suicide again because of the stress I was experiencing with trying to catch a bus to work (and losing my wallet in the process). I probably would not have attempted suicide had I known that Good Friday is actually a slow business day for Italian restaurants. I believe in October I discussed a strong desire to kill myself with my therapist and case manager, so they called an ambulance and I got sent to the hospital again. Last month I had been let out early and been given a warning about my performance by my boss because he saw me using the internet. So I had the feeling I should be punished and wanted to jump in front of oncoming traffic. This time, though, I called a suicide hotline. Though I still got sent to the hospital. I was actually contemplating suicide immediately after getting fired, but I decided otherwise.

I plan on talking with my case manager next Wednesday.

Myrddin_Emrys posted:

I actually have a fedora and not a trilby. No I wont be posting pics thank you very much.

Rigged Death Trap posted:

Motherfucker dont you diss Jalabi/zalabia


Look at that.
Tel me it aint the syrupy dessert of your dreams.

tribbledirigible posted:

Do they have inndividual strips available, like zapenis?

Jerry Cotton posted:

There are places you can go to and order an individual strip where you'll get to see zapenis.

Ruddha posted:

I don't know about anyone else, but I know for a fact that horses are stupider than poo poo and WILL kill themselves if you don't take an absurd amount of precautions and adorn them in the right silly accessories so that they don't scare themselves and fall over dead, and even then at best you can reduce the chances that they will do that, but they're still absolutely going to. Women who are obsessed with horses are just as bad as ones who are obsessed with anything else, but it may be dumber because it's a placeholder for animalistic male sexuality; however, in reality, it doesn't hold up because dominant male sexual energy is incompatible with horse personality and tendencies because, again, they're absolutely going to kill themselves by accident, whereas studs and straight power tops are highly unlikely to catch their reflection in a mirror then break their leg and get eaten by a mountain lioness

Ruddha posted:

Of course, if you don't nail little metal rings onto them, they'll split open, and then they'll die.

Ruddha posted:

I personally guarantee you a dog will never in this life hear a bee then have a heart attack out of fear, dying

Ruddha posted:

Babies grow up and that's okay, it's like, sometimes a great meal is worth a lot of prep, for example. Horses only get more likely to die from a stupid reason as they get older. Oh poor ol' Freckles, thought of ants and died

Ruddha posted:

That's understandable, but in the scheme of things it's a fairly low chance. With horses, there is no such thing as a natural death at any point in existence: they've strictly only died from stupid poo poo. Saw water and passed away

John Liver posted:

Classics

Aleph Null posted:

My dad had a horse fall in a hole and almost die. They had to use a truck wench to get her out. She was too weak to walk so they tied ropes between two trees to hold her up. It took days of them hand feeding her before she could stand or walk on her own.

Less than a month later, she fell in the same hole and died.

Baronjutter posted:

As someone who grew up with a couple friends into horses and loving dressage I can say that if anything you are being way too easy going on them. Its like their survival strategy is to break their legs or kill them selves at the slightest sign of danger, or a noise, or a change in humidity.

My friends barn had to install a big fence because they were next to a turkey farm and despite the horses seeing these birds every single loving day, any time you'd ride past them most of the horses would briefly flip out and hurt them selves or throw their rider when the turkeys came into view. You could literally ride in a loop for an hour and every single time the horse would "scare" at the turkeys.

Maybe wilder horses are smarter but dressage horses are more fragile and stupid than a baby that just learned to crawl. They will jump onto fences and cut them selves in half, they will get stuck between buildings, they will randomly for no reason at all break their legs. If there is a way to kill or hurt them selves they will find it. And people drop 50k or more on these idiots.

quote:

irl something shorted on the shuttle and laika overheated and died within a few hours of liftoff and for a brief while one could look up to the stars and see a light shooting across the sky that was actually a warm dog corpse slingshoting about the earth at thousands of miles per hour which was arguably humanity's greatest achievement so far

quote:

the dog was certainly scared as hell and probably making GBS threads + pissing during launch so it was a dog corpse covered in fecal matter

quote:

the dog that got cooked to death in space is memorialized with a statue in moscow, commemorating the millions of dollars and man hours used to murder a stray dog in an elaborate way

quote:

after laika the russians killed two more dogs in space by blowing them up with remote explosive charges, lol

quote:

i hope i'm alive the next time we as a species collectively dedicate that much effort and manpower and technological innovation towards executing an animal, maybe like dunking a sheep into a black hole or something

Van Dis posted:

Dr Who is amazing because theres literally 50 years of it and not one good episode

John Liver posted:

Classics

quote:

I came home this afternoon after picking up my copy of gta and I smelled something funny from my neighbors house. I went over there and the door was unlocked so I went right in. Sure enough there was my neighbor and two of his friends smoking to their hearts content. I told them they had two options, one- they could put the joints out or two- I would put the joints out for them. My neighbor had run ins with me before so he knew I meant business so he threw his joint down and told me to leave. I said you made a wise choice but I'm still calling the cops and then I turned to leave. My neighbor then got up off the couch got behind me and said a few cuss words and told me to mind my business. Well that did it. I turned around, took off my shades, looked him straight in the eye and said "lets get high". I then front kicked him a good 8 feet in the air. Then his other friend came at me with the bong, I grabbed his arm, snapped it and then hit him in the stomach with the bong. His other friend ran into the kitchen so I went after him. He was in the corner crying so I said "this is your brain" and then I grabbed a frying pan and said "this is your brain on drugs" and then I hit him in the head as hard as I could with the frying pan. After that I called the cops and they came over and arrested my neighbor and his friends. As I was leaving the sarge shouted out to me thanks. I turned around, took off my shades, looked him straight in the eye and said " well you know sarge, perhaps if we build a freaking dunkin doughnuts on this street it would give you guys a excuse to ride up here once or twice a week and keep the crime down. I then threw my shades on the ground to let him know I meant business. I feel pretty good about what I did for my neighborhood today. ~mjq jazz bar

quote:

Me and one of my friends went out today for some dinner so we stopped at a pretty nice restaurant. I don't smoke and most of the time I sit in the non smoking section but I didn't feel like walking to the back of the restaurant today so me and my friend sat at the first table we came to in the smoking section. Since most ppl should be aware that I don't smoke I didn't think I would have any problems. I was wrong. This jerk lit up a cigarette right next to me. I couldn't belive this fat jerk was disrepecting me like this so I turned around and looked him right in the eye and said " you might want to put that out fag..........That is,if you value your health". The guy said a couple of cuss words and told me to go to the non smoking section. Well that did it. I got up went over to the table and said "excuse me fag but you didn't clean your plate", and then I took his plate and bashed him over the head with it. Then his friend that was with him got up and took a swing at me, I ducked it and then gave him a swift round kick to the ribs. I then hip tossed him on the table and then I turned around and looked one of the waiters right in the eye and said "this orders to go" and then I tossed the table with the guy on it a good 14 feet across the room. As me and my friend were storming out the manager apologized to us but I told him it was too late as I would never eat there again. ~mjq jazz bar

quote:

So, I was at work yesterday, and I happened to walk by this guy's desk. I noticed on his computer screen that he had his personal E-mails pulled up. I asked him who he thought he was to do this on company time, and then, he told me that his daughter was sick at home, so he was checking up on her. I then punched his cimputer screen out, and Look him straight in the eye and said, " Who do you think I am? Jerry Lewis? I dont want to hear your sob story, so get back to work before I get you fired." He then said a few cusswords, and then, then He tried to punch me, I blocked it, then , I gave him a swift, round kick to the groin. I asked him if he wanted some more, and he came at me, again, so, I slapped him, then I hip tossed him into the nearest filing cabinent. I looked Over my should at anther worker who was standing near by, and I said...." File him under G..... for garbage." Needless to say, I was quite pleased, because now, that means there one less person in the company for people to look at. All eyes should be on me. I'm a stud. ~ mjq jazz bar

quote:

Well, I walk in to buy some tissues, and at the counter, I hear the manager talking about some skateboard punks in the back by the garbage bins. The guy said he was about to have to call the cops. I told him there's no need to, I'll take care of it myself. So, I walked to the back of the store, and lo and behold, a couple of good for nothings were tearing the place up. A couple of them asked me what I was doing here, so I took of my shades, looked them straight in eye, and said, " Well boys, I'm here to take out the trash, then I grabed one of their skateboards, and broke it over my knee. Then, one of them threw a punch at me. I caught it, and looked thr punk straight in the eye, and said " I'm afraid theres no need for you to be recycled, then I threw him straight over my head into one of the garbage dumpsters. Then, the rest of the kids ran away in fear. I was glad I could help my community, and look good doing it. ~mjq jazz bar

quote:

Around the corner from my weight training job they have a cafe where they make pretty good cheeseburgers. Usually I get mine with mushrooms and onions. Well today I went in there and there was this stoner bitch in there with enormous dreadlocks and a nose ring which is a violation of the safety code. I said 'Where is the regular chef' and she said 'I don't know' very rudely to me and that's when I noticed she had not sauteed up any onions for my burger. I said "you need to learn some customer service" and then she said some cuss words to me and told me maybe I should go to Burger King. But I like to support local businesses so I looked her straight in the eye and said "the customer is always right" and grabbed her by the dreads and slammed her face onto the skillet. She screamed and then the manager came running at me with a chopping knife so I looked him straight in the eye and said "chop this" and karate chopped his wrist and broke it immediately. I picked the girl up off of the floor and said "you are what you eat" and poured the boiling grease off of the fryer into her mouth. I was glad that I could set an example of what a good citizen should do in this situation, and everyone in the cafe applauded me. ~mjq jazz bar

quote:

Me and my friend went to fill up my corvette last night and there were these two punks there sitting on the sidewalk of the gas station with their radio blasting. I was trying to think as I pumped gas but their radio made that hard to do. I was not pleased. So I went in and payed for the gas and then I went up to the two punks outside. I said excuse me but I think you need to turn your radio down. They told me to chill, they were just hanging out and having a few smokes. I then looked them in the eye and said " I'm afraid this is the no smoking section boys" and then I kicked their radio up against the side of the gas station. Then one of them stood up and took a swing at me, I ducked it and then gave him a round kick to the stomach. Then the other one took what was left of the radio and threw it at me, I blocked it with my left hand which caused it to go sailing back and knock him out. Then a middle aged man which looked to be in his 50's came up and asked what was going on. I wasn't sure if he was with me or against me so I assumed he was against me, I then gave him a swift front kick to the groin and hip tossed him on top of the other guys there. I then walked back to my car where my friend just stood there in awe, I asked him why he didn't help me and he said it looked like I had things under control. I slapped him and pushed him to the ground and told him to walk home. I then got in my corvette turned up the radio to full blast and much to my suprise welcome to the jungle was playing. I then sped off with that song playing full blast. I felt pretty good about standing up for my rights and I looked good doing it. ~mjq jazz bar

quote:

It was a nice day today so I went for a walk out side. As I was walking, I heard somebody crying out in pain so I went to investigate, when I turned the corner I saw a kid that had fallen off his bike and he was grabbing his leg and crying. There was this guy already there and he told me that he was a doctor and he thought this kid had a broken leg. I could tell this guy was lying because he didn't have any white coat, I don't like liars so I pushed him out of the way. My training in medical school showed me that I had to get the kid's leg straight again, so I started pounding his knee to get the bone straight again. Thats when the guy that claimed to be a "doctor" called me a moron and pushed me out of the way. Well that did it. I got up, took my shades off, looked him straight in the eye and said " open wide doc" and then I gave him a swift kick to the mouth. I then grabbed him and said "time to make a house call " and then I threw him through a window of a near by house. The kid stopped crying then, I guess my pounding earlier worked. I told the kid not to thank me but I did need 20 dollars for my time. He only had 14 so I took his bike as well. I feel pretty good about fixing the kid's leg. ~mjw jazz bar

quote:

So I was sitting in the back corner of eat ‘n park a restaurant in the northeastern region and I hear this group of punk kids terrorizing their waitress, and I stumble over there and ask the beautiful lady what the problem seems to be. The kids being the adept punks they are give her a glare that tells her not to talk or else therell be problems but I know better than this and I tell them that if they don’t apologize to this beautiful belle theyre going to have to answer to me. I pull my shades out of my back pocket, slip a comb through my wet hair, and tell them they have 10 seconds to apologize. The leader of the gang a chubby kid tells me to get loss and then throws the peg game on his table at my face. “I pegged you as the wise sort, and I don’t play games!” says I, and I grab a tonfa from the cop sitting at the table next to them and tell them today’s special, punks served sunny side up, with a side of hollandaise. I crack the tonfa over two punk heads, do a roundkick, and then hiptoss the runt of the crew into the pie fridge. “Creamed or Key Limed? ” I ask the cop as he slips me a fiver and gives me a back high five. He tells me Ive done a good job as a citizen, and I kiss the beautiful waitress on the cheek, run my comb through my hair once more and leave the restaurant on my harley. ~mjq jazz bar

quote:

I was in town with one of my girlfriends today, and I decided to play one of those scratch off games again, I was very suprised when I won 1 million dollars on the spot, this was like the second time I won the lottery. I was about to claim my prize but then I thought to myself I'm already rich why not have some fun with this one? I told my girlfriend I was tired of her already so I left her at the gas station and went to find me some poor suckers. What better place than wal mart? I went up and down the asles until I found a bad dressed man and wife along with their kid. I went up to the guy and showed the guy the ticket, and told him since I didnt need the money I was going to give it to him and his family, when he started to tear up I tore up the ticket and threw the pieces on the ground. I then started to walk away but this spinless punk then took a swing at me when my back was turned. That did it. I turned around, took off my shades, looked him straight in the eye and said "feeling lucky". I then gave him a swift kick in the ribs and threw him into the pet section, I then caught a wal mart guy coming at me so I took a knife out of my jacket and threw it toward a chain holding up a sign, I then looked at the guy and said "watch out for falling prices" and then the sign fell on him and knocked him out. I left the store but not before I complained to the manager about the kind of people they let in there. ~mjq jazz bar

quote:

So, I bought a couple of dvds off some web site a few weeks ago and I was pretty upset they haven't come in the mail already. So today I stuck around the house until the mailman came, he brought me a package but it wasn't the dvds I was waiting for. I asked him what the problem was and he told me that he had no control over when the company sends me the dvds. He said I should try to contact them. That did it. I couldn't belive this guy, I pay my taxes and this guy thinks he has the right to sass me in front of my euro mansion, in my freaking driveway? I lifted up my shades, took the cigar out of my mouth, looked him straight in the eye and said " I'm afraid this package is marked return to sender", and then I threw the package in the air and sidekicked the package right into the guys face causing teeth to go everywhere. I then saw one of my ederly neighbors walking toward me so I assumed he wanted trouble as well so I gave him a swift round kick to the ribs, I then looked at him and said "time to take out the garbage" and hip tossed him into the garbage can. I then picked up the crying mailman and threw him into the garbage can, after I had my "garbage collected", I picked up the garbage can and said "let the good times roll" and threw the garbage can down the hill. I didn't see those two guys again but I don't really care, I took the mailbag and threw it in my fireplace since it was a little chilly here today.

Quixotic posted:

"feminism?!" newsmonster kramers in the door and just keeps kramering, sliding off around the room, bouncing against walls. he kramers against your toilet, busting it up big time. you get the feeling he's trying to say something to you but he's kramering at such a high velocity you just can't quite make it out. as he finally nails a window and falls out you think you hear him exclaim "I'm a feminist, that's what's so CRAZY about this" on the way down

quote:

Why all the Golden Corral hate? Golden Corral is honestly better than a loving movie.

I have a friend named Bruce. Bruce looks to be some kind of honest-to-God pirate at first glance, and I mean Captain Jack Sparrow's crew pirate, and the ornery, mean old loving pirate you'd never, ever want to mess with because he'd bite your God-damned nose off and eat it. He's also wildly into K-pop, choreographs his own dance routines to it, and in the last year or two has started just basically eating like a Korean, which apparently means shitloads of vegetables and cabbage. Anyway, Bruce goes to Golden Corral like 2x a week, which I thought was kind of strange due to his new health kick, so finally I asked him about it.

"Dude," he said. "Golden Corral has a shitload of vegetables, and their cabbage is great. But you're missing the point. You don't go to Golden Corral just for the food, JS. It's loving dinner theater."

And you know what? He's right. For $12 you can sit and watch some of the most hilarious, downright hellishly gluttonous behavior you will see outside the Plane of Fat in the Demonic Abyss. I went with him one time and laughed so hard at some of the poo poo on display that now I go with him about once a month, get a big plate of steak and another big plate of salad, stake out a spot where you can see most of the buffets (and oh for loving sure the CHOCOLATE WONDERFALL) and just observe the kind of unbelievably self-indulgent (and self-destructive) poo poo that would make a European or Southeast Asian's person head explode off their shoulders in horror and make someone with a "sick sad world" sense of humor laugh their rear end off.

Someone, say, like me.

For example, the very first time I went with Bruce I was witness to "the recon." This is a real thing, and what I am about to describe is not an isolated incident, no sirree. Humongously fat people will literally go scout the buffet. Now, I think we all do this to some extent at a buffet, in the "Hmm, what do they have to eat here?" glance-while-walking-to-the-table sense, but this is done with military precision, people. I've watched with my own eyes three people, all of whom were 300 lbs+, meet briefly and talk, then split up and go to the buffets, carefully eyeballing each selection, lips moving, fingers pointing, as if cataloging the unearthly delights that await them, then loving meeting back up in the same place to discuss what they saw and plan an attack. I'm serious. They were like 10 feet away.

"Guys it looks like the fried chicken tonight is coming out pretty fast, pretty sure that stuff's going to be good, but the rotisserie is just kind of hanging out. Pulled pork was kind of crusty but I think if we dug down a bit there's good stuff there. There was a bit of a crust on the edge of the brown gravy and someone dropped some loving broccoli in it but the white gravy's looking fine. Outside of that, hot bar A looks good. And of course the bourbon chicken looks good as always."

"Fantastic. Well, the guy cooking the steaks told me they are busting open a new box in about 20 minutes, so we should probably lay off that until then. I noticed there was a lot of bacon in the green beans right now so that should probably be one of our first stops. The mac and cheese tonight also looks loving delicious, it's got a nice crust unlike that bullshit last week when it was practically yellow water, so we need to move on that. It looks like they recently changed out the taco stuff, especially the nacho cheese, it looks brand new, so, take that for what it's worth."

"Well I've got bad news guys, from what I could see it looks like tonight's a no chocolate cake night, they only have that loving one that has those fake cherries on top, and we all know how that fucks things up."

>groans all around<

"But it's not that big a deal because they just put out rice krispies with chocolate coating and the girl said they've got tons of them. They've also got those sugar cookies and some fudge brownies that look all right, and all the other pie poo poo they usually have."

"OK, so green beans, fried chicken, the mac and cheese, the white gravy, those are tonight's superstars. Let's go."

I AM NOT MAKING THIS UP. I expected a loving Wonder Twin powers-esque ring bump at this point, but instead they just all fled to a plate dispenser and began loading the gently caress out of their plates. It really reminds me of nothing so much as when people like, discuss what's going on with their favorite sports teams. Except with food.

This is also when I first experienced the phenomenon of the "multiplate."

Now, your average person will take a plate to the buffet, fill it with food, and go back to their table and eat. But, you see, that person understands that when they are done eating, if they want more, there will be more food available at that time. But the multiplater wants to hedge its bets. What if, between that first and second trip to the buffet, the restaurant suddenly ran completely the gently caress out of food? Like, not even mints by the cash register or gum in the quarter machines? WHAT THEN? Your deliciousness per second (DPS... sorry) will go down!

It doesn't bear thinking about. Now it's unlikely, gentlemen, but not impossible, so as we are smart consumers, we're going to guard against the possibility. So let's each go get three complete plates of food and come back to the table.

Now I'm not talking a meal plate and a salad plate, as I mentioned before I myself do that every time I go to watch this... whatever the gently caress it is, Theater of the Grotesque, I guess. But just imagine for a moment going up to the buffet and getting a plate loaded down with actual loving rib-sticking food. 3-4 chicken wings and legs, a big-rear end helping of mac and cheese, some mashed potatoes and gravy, green beans, two corns on the cob, and a yeast roll or two, then taking it back to your table. Time to eat, right? WRONG. DIPSHIT. WHAT IF THEY RUN OUT OF FOOD WHILE YOU ARE EATING YOU GOD-DAMNED NINNY? WHAT ABOUT YOUR DPS?

So you just set this completely full plate down and go get another one, and again you just completely fill the gently caress out of it with food. A couple of steaks, a pile of pulled pork, a rice mountain topped with sugary chicken (MOUNT BOURBON), and a couple of smoked sausages with nacho cheese on them, then you take that back to your table.

You now have enough food at your table, JUST ON YOUR PLATES, to feed an entire platoon of ten year-olds who have been playing all day. Time to sit down and pig the gently caress out. WRONG. DIPSHIT. WHAT IF THEY RUN OUT OF FOOD NOW? YOU'VE ONLY GOT LITERALLY TEN OR FIFTEEN THOUSAND CALORIES ON YOUR PLATE, YOU'RE PRACTICALLY GOING TO STARVE TO DEATH. IF YOU DON'T KEEP YOUR DPS UP WE'LL HAVE TO KICK YOU OUT OF THE GUILD DUDE.

So again you set your second completely full plate down and go back AGAIN. I dunno what the gently caress you get this time, since you already have basically everything they serve, but on one multiplate I watched a dude walk(?) to the salad bar and create the following salad:

1 giant ladle of blue cheese dressing directly onto the plate
Multiple giant scoops of shredded cheese on top of this
Multiple giant scoops of those weird ham cube-bits on top of this
Multiple giant scoops of bacon bits on top of this
Multiple giant scoops of boiled egg crumbles on top of this
An enormous pile of croutons
A giant scoop of mushrooms (I think this "made it healthy" because mushrooms are like a fish or something and fish is negative calorie superfood?)
2 giant ladles of blue cheese dressing on top

Just think about that for a loving minute. OK, frankly, it sounds pretty delicious, but holy poo poo how horrid does something like that have to be for you? Imagine trying to poo poo that out a few hours down the line. But now you have your third plate, and so now you can at least quiet the yammering fear that you won't get to eat everything in the entire God-damned place before it closes down for the night, and at last you can finally start to eat.

Again, this is not fantasy. I've watched this multiple times. I've seen a woman so fat she had to use a walker to move sit by herself at a 4-person table and completely cover the surface of it with plates of food before she started eating, and she cleaned every last one of them. It has the same uneasy, somehow alien fascination of seeing a car wreck, or a really hosed-up porn where the chick is wearing spider prosthetics and hissing all the loving time. You're like, am I really supposed to be entertained by this? I kind of feel bad, and sort of weird, but... I mean, just loving look at it. It's brutal, unchained nihilism unfettered from any concept of moderation or shame or self-preservation and frankly it's kind of fascinating watching someone deliberately say "gently caress any sort of a comfortable life, WHERE IS THE THOUSAND ISLAND CONTAINER?"

So what I'm trying to say is, Golden Corral really is cheap dinner theater, and believe it or not you can actually eat there without consuming ten thousand+ calories if you just eat a steak strip or two and some salad or potatoes or something.

Oh, and did I mention the Chocolate Wonderfall? Well, frankly, if you dare to use that loving thing I salute you, because it wouldn't surprise me to find a live octopus in it. This is already too long for a dumb post about obsessive fatties at Golden Corral, but if I get a chance later I might type up some of the poo poo I've seen people do with that thing.

BTW as a disclaimer I'm a 220-lb dude (6'2" though so I don't look too monstrous) who has spent his whole life losing and then gaining weight. I know it's extremely tough to do, and it's REALLY tough to keep doing and maintain it, but there's a big difference between "I'm overweight, try my best, run 4 times a week, and occasionally overindulge in an entire tub of scoop n' eat cheesecake filling" and sticking your face to the loving ears into the Chocolate Wonderfall and sucking like Cygnus X-1 till security gets there with the the bullropes.

I hope someone liked reading that as much as I liked writing it.

quote:

OK, so, as promised, the CHOCOLATE WONDERFALL.

That's right, a non-stop flowing river of chocolate decadence.
That's right, a non-stop flowing river of chocolate decadence.

What a loving weird commercial. Also note the comments on that video. User 'goldencorral' doing damage control, y'all.

"I SAW A CHILD BLOW A RIVER OF SNOT INTO THE CHOCOLATE WONDERFALL."
"Really sorry to hear that! Could you give me some follow-up info?"

I have no idea how it's legal to have this thing. At first glance it's like, "Yeah, that's kind of cool, looks tasty," but then on further reflection you begin to think of terms like "vector" and "transmission" and "patient zero" and start to reconsider. They don't let restaurants serve food "family style" (big bowls and serving spoons in a common dish on the table) and this seems like family style on steroids. I dunno.

Bruce told me about the CHOCOLATE WONDERFALL one night on the way to GC. "Dude, they have like this chocolate river thing now, you'll see."

"Is it good?"

"No, dude. No. Just watch."

Now, they have a person who stands in the dessert section who is supposed to, I guess, guard the CHOCOLATE WONDERFALL? But they are not always there, and occasionally disappear into the back of the restaurant to do whatever it is that is done back there. This is as effective as any guard who is randomly gone. But in case user 'goldencorral' is in this thread, I will say that every gross/unsanitary thing I've seen regarding the CHOCOLATE WONDERFALL has taken place when this person, who I will call Deputy Sweeto, was gone.

Now, if you watched that commercial, you saw the way people are actually supposed to engage with the CHOCOLATE WONDERFALL. Take a piece of something that would be good with chocolate, stick it on a skewer, stick it under the chocolate, you are done. Put it on a plate so it doesn't drop all over the place, go back to your seat, eat, enjoy, go home. Fifty return trips to the CHOCOLATE WONDERFALL optional, but necessary.

So here are some things I've seen people do with the CHOCOLATE WONDERFALL. Note that the real threat to the integrity of the CHOCOLATE WONDERFALL is not adults, who although they may do disgusting and unhealthy things to it (such as using, say, actual loving fudge as the material to be chocolate-covered) most of them are conscientious enough to not be unsanitary.

Oh, but unattended children, they Do. Not. Give. A. gently caress. And believe me, at GC there's going to be some unattended children, because mommy and daddy are trying to get their DPS up people, and paying attention to their precious living things might result in someone else getting more of the mac and cheese crust covering by delaying their second multiplate.

Chocolate chicken leg: This is what I saw the first time I went there and just before the only time I contemplated chocolating something up. Just as I was about to get up, I watched a little kid, probably about 6-7 years old, walk up to the CHOCOLATE WONDERFALL and stick a fried chicken leg in it.

Now, frankly, this is loving hilarious. Just really think for a minute about seeing this, the little dude just staggering over to the chocolate and plunging a fried chicken leg into it. There's no question at this point that little bits of fried batter are getting knocked off by the power of the WONDERFALL and merging with the chocolate, and I know there's nothing I'd like better on a strawberry than some soggy, chocolate-infused fried chicken coating. So already Bruce and I are laughing so loving hard we're practically injuring ourselves, but this gets better. After thoroughly chocolating this chicken leg, the kid yanks it out from under the WONDERFALL, makes no attempt to put a plate under it or anything, and turns and walks away from the thing, trailing the chicken leg at his side like a caveman's club.

Well, it is dripping chocolate. Not a lot, but some, and no one is paying attention to it, so people are walking through this liquid chocolate and just smearing it all over the place and making a hellish, God-awful mess. Admittedly, it's just around that dessert section, which is tile, but still. Little dude walks back to his table, looks at the chicken leg with some consternation, and then just throws it under the table on the floor.

Makeshift Mole: Man, chicken mole is loving delicious, and it's basically what I order at every Mexican restaurant who serves it. For those who don't know, mole is kind of like a spicy sauce that often incorporates chocolate or cocoa and, for emphasis, is loving delicious. But it tastes nothing like chocolate, it's mainly peppery spicy with just a hint of the sweet-bitterness of chocolate.

gently caress me, now I want some mole. Anyway, I've seen a dude take a plate of bourbon chicken (which, to the uninitiated, is basically chicken bits in a brown fructose sauce... but okay, it's delicious too), walk over to the CHOCOLATE WONDERFALL, and use a spoon to completely cover his already-soaked-in-loving-sugary-solution chicken pieces in milk chocolate. Ol' Deputy Sweeto was there for this one, but didn't say anything because, well, what the guy was doing wasn't unsanitary or harming the fountain or anything, it was just, you know, gross beyond belief at the cellular level. As he walked away Deputy Sweeto caught me staring. We locked eyes across the restaurant, shared a brief look of "What have we seen? Others have not...", and then went about our normal business, strangers connected by a shared glimpse into the Maw of Chicken Madness.

Dude took his chocolate bourbon chicken over to the buffet, put a little rice on the side, and went and ate the whole loving thing. Frankly I was tempted to go get a chunk or two of bourbon chicken and do the same thing myself just to see what the gently caress that could possibly taste like and why someone would eat a plate of it, but then I realized that I will at some point want to look at myself in the mirror and feel proud of my life as a human being and so I didn't.

CHOCOLATE WONDERSPRAY: Occasionally you will get someone who is not satisfied with a single layer of chocolate on their treat, and they will stand for a moment and let the chocolate on their tastybit harden a smidge and put some more chocolate on it. OK so by occasionally I mean "almost everyone does this." I don't consider this horrid gluttony unless you're up there for loving five minutes and walk away with a chocolate baseball on a stick (but yes, I've seen people stand up there and do that for literally five minutes before, I think they are mainly just trying to drip as much chocolate as possible onto the plate they hold beneath it, "Whoops, now I guess I have to eat all this too, mustn't waste!"). But this little girl takes the cake for that poo poo. If standing there and maybe gently blowing on your chocolate-covered tastybit allows more chocolate, then you know what would be better?

Blow on it like you're Superman putting out the loving Towering Inferno, that's what!

The little girl dunks her krispie, pulls it out, and proceeds to blow on it like Superman put- you get it. Well, this results in little chocolate drops being blown all over the loving place. The sheer violence of the blowing is also denuding her little treat of chocolate, so she sticks it in again and does the same thing, with the same results. So again. And again. At this point the area near her is beginning to resemble something that has seen the touch of several shotgun shells full of chocolate birdshot. At last her mother saw what she was doing and came and got her, and then, in an unusual and heartening twist, called for Deputy Sweeto and tried to help clean up. Your average mom at GC would have grabbed her child, looked around anxiously, and then slunk away. So high five, moral and responsible mom!

What the gently caress are you doing OH NAW DUDE DUDE NAW CHRIST: Short and sweet and horrible as a baboon loving a human baby. Man gets soup bowl. Man walks to CHOCOLATE WONDERFALL, fills soup bowl 3/4 full. Puts rice krispie on top. Walks back to table, crushes rice krispie with spoon, begins eating pure liquid chocolate with minor crunchy bits. JS loses faith in the future of the world.

quote:

So. Babies at Golden Corral.

First, let's just state that I love babies. They are nature's little Jokers, agents of chaos who just do not give a gently caress. About anything. They don't give a gently caress about your rules, your controls, your social mores, or your laws. They will poo poo on the floor like it's nothing. They are gonna do what they want, and when they find something they like to do they are going to do it, and they will do it as long as possible and the longer they do it the faster they will do it and the harder they will laugh. Seriously, they are about the best free entertainment in the world.

Literally the funniest thing in the world to me is to be in a crowded public place and have a baby start doing that kind of crying where they are just screaming at the top of their loving lungs with tears running down their faces, occasionally pausing and falling almost completely silent to gulp in another big lungful of air before going back to 180 decibels while the parent looks around frantically and begs them to stop. I mean, seriously, that's the funniest poo poo in the world. Bonus points if this happens at Golden Corral and Trailer Park Romeo & Juliet (see below) look at the shrieking, obviously infuriated child, shrug like, "Zis my porblem? Sheeeit izza baby, he's justa cryn," before going back to DPSing as hard as possible. Holy poo poo I'm seriously LMAO right now just thinking about it.

Now, I am a childless man. There is a really good reason for this, which is that I am a selfish rear end in a top hat who can't comprehend not being able to wake up and just do whatever I want all day without being burdened by another living thing's requirements. poo poo, I can barely take care of my snapping turtle, who only requires some sort of flesh be tossed in his tank every week or so.

FLESH. And maybe some attention. *sniffle*

But that said, even I understand at the atomic level that when you actually do have a child, that child must take precedent over absolutely everything else in your entire life including anything you may have wanted. You have to nurture it, guide it, protect it, take care of it, watch over it, and teach it how to be a good person who will contribute to society.

Unless you take it to Golden Corral. At this point, a magical alchemy occurs and you no longer have any responsibility for your baby, and you should just let it run free and learn on its own things like "steam tables are hot" and "a handful of ranch dressing feels funny."

You see a lot of kids at Golden Corral, sticking chicken legs in CHOCOLATE WONDERFALLS and things, and you do see a lot of babies also. Now when I say baby, I basically mean a being anywhere from womb-age to young enough it can barely walk unassisted and does that terrifying hard-lean-forward baby stagger while you cringe and simultaneously fear/long for the inevitable faceplant. Young enough to still have to stick in a highchair, basically.

Quite a few couples with kids you will see at Golden Corral fit the stereotype I think of as "Trailer Park Romeo and Juliet." This means:

1 partner very large, usually extremely disheveled, with a wild eye and an aggressive demeanor who speaks very loudly and has no problem yelling threats of physical violence to either partner or child, like "IMMA FUCKIN BEAT YOU" at full volume in the midst of a crowded restaurant. If this partner is the female they will always, always have at least one large facial mole with multiple black bristles sticking from it.

1 partner whisper thin, hellishly passive, instinctively flinching, watery-eyed, with a sick smile and a completely whipped and beaten-down aura coming off them in discernible waves. If this partner is the male they will always, always be sporting a disgusting pubestache with three very prominent hairs longer than the surrounding pubes which have obviously been cultivated with love and pride.

People say stereotypes are the language of hate, but they become stereotypes by being repeatedly true over centuries.

So anyway, these are the kind of people who will trail 3-4 kids from ages 1-6 into a Wal-mart and turn to the 6 year-old and say things like, "NOW LITTLE BECKY YOU WATCH YER SISTERS OK" and then walk off to the bathroom and leave them alone, or think nothing of knocking a kid to the floor when the least bit irritated.

To put it more plainly, abominable genetic misfit monsters who should never have been allowed to breed and shouldn't be entrusted with the welfare of this loving thing, much less a precious human child. Oh, but they have them, and by the bucketload, and then they take them... to Golden Corral.

Oh and before I say anything else YES, I know what I am about to describe sucks rear end for the server. I'm well aware of this. I tip extremely well when I go to any place like this because I know the poor people working there aren't making dick and are specifically having to deal with poo poo like this, so rage against that machine somewhere else.

NACHO NINO: So, as stated, I don't have a baby. But if I did, and I took the baby to Golden Corral, I know exactly the steps I would take. Here they are, in order:

Put infant in high chair.
Go get food when infant is safe.
Bring infant back some small piece of appropriate food they can gnaw on, if they are old enough to do so.
Occasionally feed infant small safe bits of food off my own plate.

Goon parents, is this reasonable? I hope so. Here is what I would not do:

Get infant a plate completely full of nacho cheese sauce and top with some chips.
Place on highchair tray in front of infant.
Ignore infant as it goes buck loving "samurai wild" on the incredibly inappropriate thing before it.

So, you know how when a baby does something it thinks is amusing, like, say, lightly slaps a stuffed animal and you go, "Ow!" and it laughs? What happens next? Well, the baby is amused, and it wants more amusement, so it will slap the stuffed animal again. Harder. And faster. If it continues to be amused, it will continue to do this. Harder. And faster. Again. And again. Until it's a little sped-up blur of slapping and hysterical giggling. It's practically a law of nature, you could probably make an equation for it.

(Baby amusement) = (Force of strikes)(Speed of strikes)

Something like that. Note that term A only gets bigger if terms B and C constantly increase, and term A must increase because FUN FOR THE FUN GOD! So, now, imagine putting a full plate of viscous canned cheddar sauce before a baby. What the gently caress do you think is going to happen?

Well, you can guess. Baby stuck its hands in the cheese, sucked some cheese off its hands, and eventually came to the realization that by sort of hitting the cheese, it could cause an amusing pattern/feeling/spatter. The baby looked at his own cheese-laden hand, fascinated, and then he laughed.

That laugh was the key. The equation had begun. There was no stopping it now. Across the room, I nudged Bruce. "poo poo's about to get real, bro." He looked up from his mountain of cabbage and roots and other leafy poo poo and saw where I was looking.

"Oh gently caress yes, they gave it nacho cheese, how God-damned dumb are they? JS they gave it a whole plate!" This said in the same tones you'd use to say something like, "It is El Dorado, a whole city made of solid gold!" Man I love that guy, he's awesome.

Now that first baby cheese-slap was just an experiment. We've all seen it, and you all know exactly what I mean. "What is this? What does it feel like? How does it respond to my power?" But once baby has figured out that A)cheese isn't fighting back and B)hey that felt funny and C)things around me turn orange! there was no turning back.

"I am Golden Corral's reckoning. Here to end the borrowed time you've all been living on."

A second slap landed in the plate of nacho cheese. Significantly harder. Significantly more cheese went flying. Already at this point Bruce and I are laughing our asses off, because just these two slaps by themselves have made a hellish mess, baby is covered in cheese, cheese is everywhere, mom and dad are DPSing and so don't have time to pay attention to their precious child, and you can just see where this is going already. See this in your mind, friends, the child's arm speeding up, harder and faster each time, the child giggling, its arm turning into a little pinwheel of destruction.

>SLAP<
Cheese flies.
>SLAP<
Cheese flies.
>SLAPSLAPSLAPSLAPSLAPSLAPSLAPSLAP<
loving CHEDDARCAUST

There's loving cheese everywhere. The kid looks like they took a nacho shower, there's cheese in his loving hair, and I'm not talking an isolated drop of cheese, no sir, I'm talking "gently caress it shave the baby, there's no way we're getting this out" cheese-in-hair. The area on the floor around baby's highchair looks like someone murdered a Taco Bell with a power drill.

Mom and dad don't give a gently caress. "CURRR-TIS!" mom says, affectionate and exasperated. "Why'd you do that?"

Uh, maybe it's because you gave something without the current capacity for rational thought the equivalent of a food WMD, lady, just guessing. So after seeing the ELE-level mess her kid had made, Momma Fats just moves the cratered nacho plate away (which she ended up eating, a common enough fat person justification, "Oh honey do YOU want a giant plate of food you can't possibly eat OH I GUESS I WILL HAVE TO FINISH THAT FOR YOU CAN'T WASTE") and handed the kid a loving chicken nugget.

This mess was so awesome that the server for that section literally called over multiple other servers to see it.

poo poo this was a lot longer than I planned it to be, and believe it or not, I have to "watch" my 7 year-old nephew now, which means I am going to take him to a McDonald's with a ball pit and get some work done while he and a bunch of other kids concoct fantastic adventures that revolved around man-sized plastic tubes. Later tonight I'll type up another baby story, let's call it "Food as Toys."

LaughMyselfTo posted:

You know what, gently caress it, I'm going to come out and admit that I'm in this category to some extent or another. I don't expect a pat on the back for not molesting children, because it's self-evident that such a thing is wrong, and I've never had any trouble controlling myself in that regard. But I'm appalled that the conversation on this topic is so stunted by the chilling effect that holding people morally accountable for innate desires has.

I personally suspect that innate pedophilia is both much more common than we would like to admit, and a result of society's unhealthy attitudes towards women. Femininity and youth are inextricably associated, and internalizing this too hard leads to pedophilia. I'm pretty sure my own innate pedophilia was vastly accelerated by the above-average age difference between my parents; I falsely believed for much of my childhood that couples where the woman was older than the man were infertile. Since puberty, my preference in girls has remained consistently short of the "half your age plus seven" rule, though at least if it continues on the current trend I should be interested in girls who can legally consent in a few years. Is all of this unpleasant and creepy? Yes, yes it is; I know because it's unpleasant and creepy for me too. But, though I wavered on posting something like this for a while, I decided I needed to, and everyone else does too. We can't solve a social problem like pedophilia without the context of knowing how deeply ingrained of a problem it is.

(USER WAS BANNED FOR THIS POST)

Kirk posted:

i cant

i need a moment here

i don't even, i can't begin to

like

its

someone help me i dont know where to start

i am at a loss for words

hot liquid poo poo splashing up and speckling my white bottom

a man dips his fingers in fetid rear end sweat and smears a line of it on my forehead.

"RAZOR" he murmurs

a cleansing dive into sparkling yellow piss waters, light at the top yet brown near the bottom. i plunge deep and feel the saltiness enter my pores.

a field of partially congealed cum on grass. before it continues to gel, i leap and splay myself out on the ground, nude. i wave my arms and legs, making the snape of an angel.

i am led down a darkened hallway and through a metal door that screams as it opens and closes. i sit down in an old wooden chair with a light above me and wait. soon he appears. helpers flank him, and then grip my face and hold my mouth open. the man leans forward, plugs one nostril, and blows the contents of his nasal cavity into my eager mouth.

because my face is strapped so tightly to the rear end of this man, the poo poo he pushes out is forced to go over, around, and under my eye sockets after they rapidly become full of feces. i grind my face a little, to enjoy the smooshing sensation.

my penis stings greatly from the regurgitated stomach acids, but my joy overpowers the negative sensation. the scent of heineken and sourness fills the air.

he is strapped down over a table, blindfolded and gagged. a courtesan hands me a cheese grater and motions me towards his waiting rear end. mounds upon mounds of swollen, pus filled acne await me on twin rounded fields of flesh. i drop to my knees and hold my mouth open so as to enjoy any incidental splashing, and then i begin working on him with the grater.

my eyes are irritated as endless flakes of dead skin float down into them, but the visine helps mitigate the worst of it. my erection grows ever harder as i watch the crusty foot directly above my face get worked over with the file. soon all of the callous will be broken up and spread over me.

the side rooms are filled with aged and diseased men of all walks of life. the only unifying factor among them is that they have all contracted the most recent strain of cold virus, and each cough from them produces a hefty amount of phlegm. upon entering, they crowd around me and hold me down onto the ground. my clothes are rapidly stripped away, and the process begins. the air is filled with a cacophony of horks and coughs, and i close my eyes. all across my body i can feel points of warmth as phlegm and bile are projected onto me.

a melange of feces and vomit make the floor slick and difficult to traverse but, then again, that's the point. around the room are men sitting on benches, and beside each of them is a small bucket full of nerf footballs. i enter the room and they begin hurling them at me. you are instructed to dodge to the best of your abilities, but are expected to fall into the frothy mixture on the floor in short order. upon falling, i purposefully roll around to slather as much of it onto my skin as possible.

the men on the top floor are chained to prevent their escape, and some are in fact strapped down so as to prevent any movement. all have leprosy and are in various stages of decay, and i am invited to insert my tongue into the gaping wound of a man not far from his final rest. it is hot and fetid, yet drier on the inside than i would have expected. i work some salvia into the gaping hole to enhance the experience.

"you may experience discomfort", the courtesan informs me. the pumping mechanism is now tightly strapped to my body, and the catheter has been violently shoved all the way in. some say it is a life changing experience to have the urine of another man forcibly pumped into your own bladder, and i eagerly look forward to seeing if this is true

i roll the dry balls of poo poo around in my mouth. these have been left to sit for a day, and even right after being produced they were quite dry. there is still some softness to them, some moisture within. i bite down, and the sensation of crumbling poo poo fills my mouth. i spit out the hard flecks of undigested matter and continue to chew.

in the mirror, i see that the veins in my neck are engorged as i try to push out any remaining feces. it is a thrill to know that this feces is not mine, and yet i am still passing it through my system. my throat is still quite irritated from the intubation process, and it is still bizarre feeling the hot lumps pass through said tube into my mouth, down my throat, and into my gut to be re-processed by my own intestines.

in the morning, i do not feel well. the exertions of the previous night and the inability of my body to handle so much foreign material has taken its toll. i try to liven myself up in the piss showers, and my spirits are lifted, but the nausea remains. an attendant brings me a smoothy for breakfast, and i hungrily sip from the straw. a strange flavor, but this trip is about new experiences. i ask the attendant what's in it, and he describes a fetid mixture of pus and cum. i smile as he leaves. "they think of everything", i muse.

today is the main event. my prostate will be forcibly manipulated until every last drop of semen is pumped out of my body and into an incision that the on-site physician has made in my right bicep. there is some swelling around the injection site, but i have been prescribed advil.

i have some time to spare, so i stroll over to the penetration room. from behind a two way mirror, i watch an army of men pump in and out of each other in a room that has long since been sealed shut. the only thing pumped in is oxygen. the men have been told that they must continue to gently caress and thrust or they will be deprived of that last comfort. no fighting is allowed, and the last man left alive will be free to go. a lie, of course. currently fifteen men are left, with perhaps a dozen corpses around them. they do not know or care if the people they continue to thrust in and out of are alive. some of the corpses have been mutilated quite badly, and have perhaps a litre of semen in their decaying stomachs.

blood is perhaps the most common lubricant used, and in fact has become some sort of currency. some men are lured into oral sex, only to be tricked by the performer as they bite down. blood will often burst from their members so forcefully, that the peformer is taken aback and blood gushes from their mouth, only to be wasted. perhaps one third of the blood is successfully saved for use.

one of the other penetration rooms has reached its conclusion, and i rush over to be the first in line. the corpses are removed one by one and laid down onto tables. a courtesan motions me over to the first one removed, and i sit on a small stool facing the bottom of said corpse. soon my head is pushed forward and strapped in place, my mouth encompassing the rear end in a top hat the corpse quite neatly. another courtesan brings a small footstool over to help him stand above the corpse.

"are you ready?" he asks.

i nod as best i can. he brings his foot down onto the stomach of the corpse, applies pressure, and the decayed insides begin to splay out of the rear end in a top hat and into me.

bits of bone from broken ribs migrated into this mixture of rotting matter, so i choke slightly as they cut the inside of my throat. this is considered a faux pas, and my exposed buttocks are viciously slashed with a razor wielded by the overseer. i cannot defend myself, as my head is still strapped to the rear end in a top hat of the corpse i was previously enjoying

blood trickles from the deep gashes on my buttocks, and several attendants and other guests rush over to suck as much of the precious liquid from me as they can. eventually a courtesan frees me from the corpse, and i stand. i stride out of the room quickly, as embarrassment has left me beet red. and it is almost time for my prostate-to-bicep procedure anyway. as i march to the appropriate location, my penis grows engorged with anticipation. i am propositioned for oral sex several times on my journey, but i know better - i don't need a burst cock this late in the game.

i lay down upon the cold steel table, and am strapped into position by an attendant. another attendant rigs up the prostate pump, and the seals around my bicep injection site are checked and rechecked. a switch is flipped, and the process begins. it is quite pleasurable amidst the pain, as my prostate is pounded by a mechanical device of which the workings i am not privy to. soon the pump begins to function, and i watch out of the corner of my eye as a goopy, milky white substance gushes towards my bicep. the feeling of the hot liquid cum pumping into my arm is incredible. i can feel the warmth spreading all over my muscle.

but something goes wrong - the pressure is too high, and the injection needle snaps off inside of my arm, the cum being pumped out spraying wildly in every direction. screams and shouts are heard. this is a disaster!

the pumping machine and the prostate mechanism have gone out of control, i writhe with white hot pain as my prostate is pounded violently beyond tolerable limits, and it somehow grows even worse as the organ is literally ripped apart inside of me, causing massive internal bleeding. the milky white goodness that was previously being pumped out of me grows red, deeply red, as it is replaced almost entirely by blood - that most precious of resources here at CES. instead of helping me in some way, shutting down the mechanism that is ripping my innards apart, the attendants rush over and fight one another for access to the tube that is spraying my blood all over.

cum oozes out of the injection site on by bicep. i lay in a pool of blood, and i suddenly realize poo poo as well. my bowels have released from all the internal turmoil in my body. my bladder is most likely draining, but i cannot tell now. everything is becoming a haze. my stomach is upset. i belch. the taste of pus.

perhaps i am going to die, but more importantly - my trip is ruined.

i wake up. it is dark. i am not dead, but perhaps i should be. i am back in my hotel room. my arm is bandaged, and i feel many more bandages down below. i do not know the full extent of the damage, but i am in great pain all over and it is hard to focus on anything. i turn my head slightly towards the bedside table. several bottles of antibiotics obscure the clock, but i know it is sometime during the night.

after several minutes of rest, i manage to reach over towards the pill bottles. i notice a note. i grasp it, and shakily bring it to my face. there is barely enough ambient light to see, but i focus as best i can as i fumble it open. a contact name, an email address, and a phone number. some scribbled text.

"Thank you for attending the RAZOR CES afterparty."

i close my eyes.

quote:

quote:

cmndstab posted:

it's pretty hard to do.

Obviously it's not that hard, since we have a bunch of goons who have done it.

quote:

OperaMouse posted:

The most important part is to understand which cards the computer will give away: computer will usually try give you Spades A,K,Q and high hearts, and similarly will try to get rid of those in the first couple of tricks. You can make use of this by giving certain cards to your neighbor, and know in which order they are on the table.
In general, it's good to get rid of one suit, and/or have many many of a single suit.

It all comes down to the 4th game, where you won't be able to switch cards.

Yes, it does all come down to the 4th hand. I think Hearts is a cruel mistress with a heart that beats only with vile contempt for my noble aspirations. THe fourth hand is the most critical, the most stressful, and so of course it is only natural that Hearts makes sure that the fourth hand IS THE ONE GOD DAMNED HAND THAT YOU CAN'T PASS ON. GOD.

Why the gently caress do you even point that out? AND IT'S CALLED "HAND" NOT GAME BECAUSE EACH GAME HAS MANY HANDS.

quote:

who's your crawdaddy posted:

The key is to figure out the computers patterns and play against them. You generally want to be either void in hearts or have all of the high hearts when you're nearing the end of a hand. The computer will be saving its highest heart.
Pass all of your spades and then throw off any lovely cards in the opening when the computer is leading spades to flush the queen.
Having a ton of one suit can be good if you can get everyone else out of them and still have control. The 6 5 4 3 2 of diamonds will all win if no one else has any diamonds.

I know I shouldn't get angry at goons who are just trying to be helpful, but god drat you two just spout the must obvious tips and strategies, and some of what you have said isn't useful or correct at all "Pass all of your spades" is a terrible universal rule to follow. The correct selection for passing depends on many many factors - can you get out of a suit completely, do you have a very strong suit that you could use to control the hand, do you have hearts that absolutely must leave your hand (usually the 2,3,4, and 5), do you have too many low cards that won't win tricks (like holding the 2, 3, 4 clubs, the 5,6 diamonds, and then the 4,8 spades, plus all your higher cards) etc etc. Just saying "Pass all your spades" is loving retarded.


But maybe I shouldn't say anything because I'm obvious a terrible loving Hearts player who shouldn't talk back to people who CAN shoot the moon four times in a row.


God why the gently caress did I start this thread in the first place. What did I think would happen? I think maybe It hought that no one else had ever managed this, because it seems near-impossible to my stupid loving face, and I thought maybe there'd be goons out there who were struggling along on the same path, and we could band together and offerr each other support and compassion but I think maybe that was a stupid stupid thought because clearly Im the only moron in the Hearts-playing universe that can't shoot the moon four times in a row and it's probably my strategy is a bit off never mind the fact that I once made a spreadsheet in which I listed hands and winning percentages to see if there was an easy way to predict whether a hand could be shot or not, nevermind that I have paid careful attentiont to the behavior of the computer players and learned many of their behaviors nevermind that I have spent hours and hours of MY LIFE on this loving goal with nothing to show for it except for a statistics log in my hearts program that says soemthing like "HEY LOSER YOU'VE LOSE A BILLION loving GAMES IN A ROW, YOUR LOSING STREAK IS LONGER THAN YOUR WILL TO LIVE" gently caress

TetsuoTW posted:

Apparently good posts are now a meltdown?

clammy posted:

Bad Bromance posted:

Have you tried chain wallets?

Sham bam bamina! posted:

Sham bam bamina! posted:

nerdz posted:

Trollologist posted:

Wanna kick him in the spacebar and take his lunch money.

quote:

That horse mocks you. Do you hear the neighing? More like naying! That horse says no to you. The horse is the man of the house. You are the horse. Clop clop! Trot about to your dingy office, little horsey. Your wife kisses her husband-horse when you can't see. And then again when you can. She buys it shoes, finer than any you'll own. Its metal feet crush your soul. "This horse is now man!" it exclaims. "I am defeated!" you cry. The horse has beat you. Soon you'll be in the stall, eating dry, bland grasses, while the majestic Horseband ferries your wife about town. "Oh!" the city folk shall say as they drop to their knees as their muscles fail them at the sight of such a couple. "The horse is such a man!" they weep as they tear out their eyes, knowing they'll never see such beauty again. Your wife and the HorseGod shall laugh and eat gold together. Ha ha! And your tears shall be blood as you shrivel and turn to dust, forgotten in that stall outside the city where the HORSE is now Emperor Of All and Lover Of One. The citizens will genuflect before the great beast, paying whatever tithe the Hoofed One demands, be it of coin or flesh. The people will rejoice to do so, as their Great and Benevolent Equine shall make their crops plenty, and their lives ever long. The rotten stall shall collapse on your worm-eaten bones, and none shall remember a whit about you. Except the UrHorse, the original horse, who shall shed no tear, but blink in bitter recollection of that brief time he had to endure you.

Do not let this come to be. Shoot that horse. With your Glock. Eat its meat. Make a horse stew. Turn its bones into glue, and use it to glue the skull to your wall. Use its hooves to make a tasteless gelatin to encase its eyes in. Do it. Be the man of the house, not the man of the horse. He watches

quote:

They say "The grass is always greener." That means that you always like things more if you aren't sitting in the middle of them.

For example, someone tries to steal your car, and they try really hard to crack in, but once they make it, all they get is junk under the seat, and your receipts. Now they don't want the car anymore, but it's too late.

Life is like that. By the time you figure out that everything is just a scam and they want you to do all the dirty work, you die. If you ask someone "Do you want to never work again and never gain weight?" They would say yes, but it turns out that's called death.

quote:

I think about Commando every time I need to let off a little steam. Or when I'm going to shoot someone between the balls. Or when I promise someone I'm going to kill them last. Or when I lie about promising to kill someone last. Or when my friend is dead tired. Or when I tell my former commanding officer that there's no chance I'll be back for another mission. Or when I have an emergency message for General Franklin Kirby. Or when I'm blowing up goddamn Jeeps with bazookas or like using circular saw blades as deadly frisbees with Tron-like accuracy. Basically what I'm saying is that I think about Commando a lot, I guess.

Freudian slippers posted:

First one has got to be M R CRACKER, right?

quote:

It's not a joke. A lot of white people try to take rap and say it's a joke. Well, it's just another kind of music, just like rock or orchestra. Just because you don't like it doesn't mean you should make fun of them. Rap does auto-tune because rap is like listening to the future. They take old songs and put space sounds so you know what music sounds like in the future. In 2110 regular music will sound like rap from 2010. They're ahead of the rest of it.

Back in the 1920s everyone laughed at Thomas Edison for making light bulbs but today we use them every night. If you laugh at something from the future, you should be careful, because the future will happen eventually. That's what future means.

quote:

When they take another song and make it into rap, how do they pick the song? For example, on Ludacris he took Fiddler Of The Roof and put it with drums, and suddenly it's great. I didn't like the song before, but now it's good.

36 Mafia did the same, they took the vacuum cleaner song (don't know name, it's the "Suck It Up" one) and put drums, and now it's not annoying like when you were watching TV. It's just a great rap.

Can they take any song or do they use a method to pick them? I would try to take Chinese songs, because nobody understands them anyway, but if you put drums and rap, then it's a new hit. They wouldn't even know if it was on Billboard because they don't have Internet there. (Just an idea if you rap, Chinese songs are the way to go.)

Grandmother of Five posted:

a guy can wear an ill-fitting, un-ironed shirt, have unkempt hair and huge eyebrows that has probably never been trimmed like that and still be considered a normal, regular guy, but if a girl does it she's a slut

Blind Sally posted:

have one minute jazz lessons been posted before? i just discoverd them. they are funny:

Pentatonics

bunky posted:

is this funny

Trig Discipline posted:

it's the jokes he doesn't tell

Faux-rear end Nonsense posted:

minato posted:

Wafflecopper posted:

You can't plot to kill your own kids. What you can do is imprison and execute him, but you'll get a really nasty opinion modifier with all of your vassals, and the kinslayer trait which has a nasty diplomacy penalty, so you want to try and time it as close to your current character's death as possible so your vassals won't have time to revolt. If your ruler has the depressed trait you get access to a decision to commit suicide, so you can imprison and execute undesirable heirs to your heart's content and then kill yourself so your chosen heir takes over immediately and you don't have to deal with the penalties at all.