Say Nothing posted:

Literally Kermit posted:

I shouldn't have to say this but please don't post pics of my weird tonsil infection, Gonzo

FordPRefectLL posted:

when i was 19 i got super drunk at someone's apartment and threw up

some dude's wife came into the bathroom and cleaned me up and then for some reason gave me a handjob and then i passed out on a fold out bed in the middle of the party

1redflag posted:

Think about how much of an rear end in a top hat that woman's husband must be that she felt the urge to give you a handjob. Like, what benefit could she possibly get out of it, other than hate-wanking your dick as some sort of act of defiance against her husband. I just imagine her muttering to herself while jacking it, complaining about how its not her turn to take the trash out, she did it last time!

SPACE HOMOS posted:

LOL Did you know that 1 out of 4 forums posters are raped and don't report it to the nearest moderator?

Tashan Dorrsett posted:

My sister's boyfriend used to have a golden retriever named tucker who would jump up on the table and beg for hits whenever we would spark up a blunt but he had cancer so it was ok.

whoflungpoop posted:

a redneck ISIS really

many johnnys posted:

Y'all Qaeda

Machai posted:

Dungbeetle, watching 2g1c: "Oh yeah!"

FreudianSlippers posted:

whoflungpoop posted:

Your grandchildren will find a thumb drive full of forums posts of their grandparents insulting a retarded man.

Weekend Bridges posted:

[Rushing into room, panting, out of breath, sweating] Who wants to see my dick?

im full of poo poo posted:

[bursting into the room a few seconds later, equally exhausted and sweaty] you gotta see this guy's dick

Jesus Christ posted:

Last year, I have no idea why, but I had a Mexican pesos on me while I was in Dunkirk. There's a nature reserve nearby across the border in Belgium so I buried it a couple feet down so that it wouldn't be disappeared by erosion or construction or what have you, and hopefully discovered a few hundred years later, leading future paleontologists to be like "wtf?"

I'm thinking of going back with a whole bunch of pesos and just burying them around all around the reserve to further confound them.

What are you doing to gently caress with the future?

Volume posted:

this but with my dick pic

origami posted:

Presumptuous to assume future generations will have microscopes.

Microwaves Mom posted:

Lawrence Gilchrist posted:

anime of the state

CptAwesome posted:

what the heck

Trig Discipline posted:

lol you just googled a blow job machine and realized you can't afford it

Trig Discipline posted:

*sighs, wipes away single tear*

"not this year, boner. we'll see how much we get back on our tax return"

WitchFetish posted:

Imho those attacks were just a bunch of lame beta cucks lashing out against the alphas.

Think about it, muslims live in their own garbage filled countries that have achieved nothing for the last millenia or so because of their fucktarded cultures, so they eventually emigrate to better places. Only problem is, being ugly, poor and dumb is even harder when you're next to beautiful, rich and smart people, and even their women know it : the numbers of young arab girls who leave Islam and end up with a french guy is astounding and there's no wondering why : they are treated better (no random beatings for leaving the house without dressing up as a ninja), they don't have to abide by retarded dietary restrictions, they have all the freedom they want and well, to put it in the most family friendly words possible, we are "better lovers".

Yeah, that means our dicks are bigger.

So yeah, a bunch of unlovable, ugly muslim virgins lashed out, and yes they killed some of us. So what? This is like when a limp wristed manlet throws a glass of water at a guy in a club, sure, he feels powerful for a few seconds, but then he get punched in the face and falls unconscious on the dance floor like a limp sack of poo poo. Well, good job throwing that glass of water at our collective face, islamicucks, but now come the punch, and trust me, you will feel bad about not being friends anymore with Assad the dentist because you're gonna be making GBS threads your own teeth for the next decade.

Jeff Goldblum IRL posted:

http://i.imgur.com/3JPmA1R.png

I feel like that's less "Looks NWS but isn't" than it is explicitly a penis hidden in the animation frames.

Still hilarious.

Snowglobe of Doom posted:

It's 'shopped, here's the original.

I know superhero dicks and that, my good sir, is no superhero dick.

Hector Beerlioz posted:

If you do a bunch of drugs, Volume's posting begins to make sense

Hector Beerlioz posted:

John Cena hold the record for most Make-A-Wish appearances

EugeneJ posted:

Also holds record for "Most kids dead soon after hearing your inspirational speech"

Say Nothing posted:

Prokhor Zakharov posted:

It's okay that was just a clone

Shinjobi posted:

One time when I was high school I dyed my hair black because I was genuinely curious about what it would look like. As a pale, pasty white kid black wasn't really the best choice for me, but I didn't care--I just wanted to see what it would look like. My sister took care of dyeing it, and my mom was not made aware of our plans. After getting home, now with a full head of black hair, I sat down on the couch in the living room and waited for my mom to notice. She was watching jeopardy at the time, and would not have noticed had I not gotten impatient after 10 minutes and made a comment about my hair. She stared at me for a second, then looked at my hair, then back at me. She spoke only two words, bewildered and confused:

"You....human being."


My mom is great, but when you surprise her is when she busts out her best material.

social vegan posted:

dear jackie chani n heaven above thank you for this bread and rice the sweet kicks and sweeter tunes thank u for chris rock and punches too, a cool move where u squeeze through a tiny space and no stunt men thank you for the gag reels at the ends of ur movies and thank you for letting me be me and accepting that, i never wanted to be bruce lee either, i too wanted to be the first jackie chan

Nick Rivers posted:

Transperson: How many children does a guy gotta rape to get properly gendered around here?!?!?!

E/N: One.

TheBizzness posted:

OP I bet it your high school was pretty quiet since all the girls turned down the Volume. Eh? Eh!?!

The Taint Reaper posted:

This is like if Kramer joined ISIS and then called Jerry a few months later saying that he was tired of being there and needs a ride home.

abigserve posted:

Kramer: jerry, you gotta help me

Jerry: Why what is it?

K: I'm in over my head with these isis people jerry, at first I thought I agreed with their world view but the next thing you know VRRRRRRRROOT! No more pig meat.

George: Pig meat? Like, pork?

K: ANY MEAT FROM A PIG, george, and you know if I can't eat pork I'm not kramer. I've got three brides at home and I can't THINK straight!

G: Hey what part of the pig is bacon?

J: The bacon glands.
*Kramer starts stuffing deli meats into his mouth*

J: Look at this you're getting sausage all over my counter!

K: Mmthelp me jherry! HELPTH ME *sausage and spittle is everywhere*

J: I'm afraid I'm allah out of ideas.

PureEvil6_13 posted:

Inspired by the anonymous confession thread and participation promised by Solice Kirsk and others I think it's time again to purge ourselves of the embarrassing times we've had a sure thing, right in front of our faces, and completely blew it. I have several of these stories but I'll start out with the most popular one.

A New Hardcore Champion is Crowned

It was the dusk of my college career. I had already put in 3 and a half years and was starting to knock out the required classes I needed for my major. In the shuffle of changing majors and stuff it was determined that a general music class was required for my latest and last major.

The first day of this music class it was hard not to notice that I was one of 4 guys in a class with about 15 girls. All of them are freshmen. I go through a few weeks of class being non-descript. I pipe up with a smart rear end remark every now and again and make the whole class laugh, but I'm not a try hard like the other 3 guys. By and by I find myself at a bar one night and one of the better looking girls in the class is also in attendance. We bump into each other and she reacts like I'm her best pal. She's all, 'HEEEEYYYYY GUUUUY You're in my music class! WHOOOOOO'

I confirm to her that it is indeed me, that one guy from music class. We trade simple banter back and forth for a while until she asks me if I want to dance.

Ugh. I hate dancing. At this point in time I'm 6'4 and about 160lbs. I imagine when I go out and dance I look like one of those inflatable things you see at car lots. The prospect of getting all up in this girl is too much for me to deny her my terrible dancing so we go out to the dance floor. Right away she gets all up in my crawlspace, she's riding my thigh like a mechanical bull. My leg was getting to 2nd base with this girl before I even had her home. I had some friends there who were finding the display most amusing and they showed their appreciation by pointing and laughing at us from a distance of about 3 feet. I asked her if she wanted to get out there.

Back at my place we start making out as soon as we get through the door. We are all over each other, it's intense. At one point she suddenly stops and says she has to use the bathroom. I show her where it is and she does her business or whatever and comes back out.

Now, when she comes back out she does the coolest thing I've ever had happen to me. While walking toward me, she stone cold just takes her shirt and bra off all at once, throws them on the floor, and JUMPS on me, wrapping her legs around my waist and starts tongue punching my mouth again.

This kind of told me that this girl was ready to rock and I was going to do my best to pour the meat to her like no other. I kick open the door to my room and stumble toward the bed. When I reach the foot of the bed, I kind of lift her up under her arm pits and push her down like so her back would lay smack down on the bed and I would fall on top of her.

That was what I THOUGHT I was doing. Where I was actually standing was at the foot of my rather large, octagon shaped table next to my bed that I was using as a nightstand. I had a small stereo boom box on there, a lamp, my alarm clock, keys, snuts, garbage whatever and I just powerbombed this girl through the loving center of it.

It was a small explosion man, poo poo went everywhere. The table was broken into several pieces and she was loving dazed. Between laughs I help her up and brush her off. After verifying that she's ok she suddenly remembers that she has a boyfriend and that she shouldn't be doing this.

I didn't even try to argue because after that, I doubt the night could get any better.

The next story involves another girl from that class. I go 0-2.

BigBoss posted:

*makes you wear blackface*

*holds a mirror in front of your face*


"Stop triggering yourself! Stop triggering yourself!"

WeaponGradeSadness posted:

Thread title: I can tell when a guy just had sex:

Rah! posted:

WickedHate posted:

Yeah, there is zero percent chance that isn't a fetish video.

Automatic Slim posted:

I wonder how much he paid for that?

Hihohe posted:

He sold his children

H.H posted:

just remembered a funny story:

i first tried out facebook in 2007. i opened a dummy account under the name Raging Boner to see the interface etc.
I clicked to many "continue"s without looking and accidentally sent all of my gmail contacts facebook invites for raging boner.
some accepted my friend request.

Chinatown posted:

dreezy posted:

i used to mock people who fell in love with celebrities or anime characters or what have you, until i first saw this picture. that pizza loving chick is my waifu.

Indolent Bastard posted:

more than 100 titles available by the end of 2016, including Minecraft

MINECRAFT? I can hardly wait.

Saint Freak posted:

Ouya said this same thing once.

SciFiDownBeat posted:

The air is dry and hot. The sun is beating down upon the nape of my neck; my polo is soaked in sweat. Around me, the coliseum of twenty-somethings roars for blood. I look ahead towards my opponent: a burly Irish man, with a red pompadour and a thick curled beard. He's wearing a plaid button-down and a pair of Wranglers; the mixture of the tasteful formality and playful friendliness of his attire astounds me.

A gong blasts somewhere up high. The stylish man ahead grins devilishly, and casually pushes some strands of hair back into place on the well-kept crown of his head. He swaggers towards me, and I to him. Each footfall of ours is, behind the veneer of confidence, calculated and deliberate. Finally we meet, a pace away from each other. I can feel the heat radiating from his large form, and a scent passes through the air... Acqua di Gio? A shiver runs down my spine.

He extends an arm forcefully. I take one short breath. Remember your training, I think to myself. I extend my hand and grasp his firmly. Something flashes in his eyes. Worry? Fear? I don't ponder it for too long. Finally, he speaks: "Hello there! I'm Bradley Walsh, I'll be conducting your interview today." He turns and grins towards the masses, prompting a loud cheer. This one seems to be a real crowd pleaser. He turns again to me. "What do you consider..."--he pauses for dramatic effect, with some in the crowd still giggling and whooping--"...to be your greatest strengths?"

I plant my feet and stare at him, willing my body into place. I must not show weakness now, at this critical hour. Recalling my training, I reply, "I'm a people person, a team player. I love to find ways to enhance communication among members of my group. As you can see on my CV..." I continue a lengthy anecdote about my prowess. I feel beads of sweat coalesce and run down my face, but I do not dare let my voice waver. I can see his expression changing slowly--I can see it more clearly now--a complex mixture of bloodlust, rage, self-doubt, and manic glee. Countless legions of preppy upstarts, fresh from the college mill, have been felled by his hand; but now, what he might've thought to be a routine interview could become a brutal slaughter.

I finish my tale: "...so I am certainly an asset to any company looking to leverage their employees and provide real, long-term value." Each word is a sting in this mammoth hipster's pasty white skin, but a split second of shock is all he allows himself to feel before he rights himself, his arrogant airs returning to him.

"What do you consider to be your greatest weakness?" he recites with bluster.

Calmly, I return with, "I'm guilty of caring..." I pause, emboldened, "too much." At this, everything halts to a standstill. The crowd is hushed. The hip, edgy mountain of a man before me seems to have become a statue. I glare into his clear, focused eyes for a moment, before I allow myself to continue with a small chuckle. He follows me, chuckling and grimacing, his eyes full of fiery hatred for my daring play. The crowd breathes a collective sigh of relief. "Just kidding," I go on. "But to be frank, I have in the past, perhaps, prioritized punctuality over preparedness,"--Bradley snarls at my cunning use of alliteration--"but I have a stern commitment to my work, and, at the end of the day, my strong work ethic shines through, as I've demonstrated on numerous occasions including the projects I've outlined on my resume."

The beast is fuming with unbridled rage. He makes a shoddy attempt to compose himself before hastily muttering, "Er, why should we hire you?"

I focus all my power and strength. My muscles tense; my clean-pressed slacks ruffle in a small wind; my flowing hair, styled with the perfect combination of Lemon-Lime Garnier Fructis and beeswax styling gel, glistens and bounces. The moment of truth has arrived.

"Listen, Bradley--can I call you Brad?" This surprise maneuver threatens to pop one of the veins pulsating furiously on his forehead. "You *want* me at this company. I've gone into depth about my numerous qualities already. I'm..." Here we go. I take one step forward. "...proactive." Brad inches his foot a little behind him. I take another step. "Energized." He stumbles a bit backward. Before he can right himself I move again: "Team-oriented." He falls to his knees, gasping. I stand above him, and he looks up at me as if I could rend the very earth beneath him with a single flick of my finger. I kneel down to him. "And..." I whisper, locking eyes with him. The big finish is here, and the crowd knows it. With baited breath they wait for me to say it, and I hold the moment and stretch the tension for as long as I can. And then, finally---

"...synergized."

The crowd bursts into rapturous applause. They scream and holler, with a few voices beginning to chant my name. Several women in the crowd faint. Brad flattens himself to the ground, his head convulsing, his eyes twitching madly. The gong sounds once more to officiate my moment of glory and ascendance to near-godhood. I throw up my hands, grinning wide and true, hardly able to hear the blaring cornets over the wild mania of the people. My people.

Wulfolme posted:

A slightly bored FBI agent came to the place I work today and asked me if I had any plans to attack the United States or knew of any groups that were planning on taking violent action of any sort. It was kind of like a cop investigating a noise complaint that he knew came from some old grump that files formal complaint over loving everything, but I'm still kind of spooked now. I had to tell him that a particular website I frequent has a lot of people on it that talk a big game of violent uprising but would completely chicken out the moment they got their visit from the FBI. I would appreciate it if all you angry YOSPOSers and D&Ders would cool it a bit so I don't have to defend myself on that front again.

Weeks earlier in a dull moment when everyone else was making jokes about the San Bernardino shootings, I said I always wondered why they went so small as shooting people in a public place, and if they're willing to die to hurt America why not go all out and really blow up something that would send real shockwaves through the economy. Everyone made hay of this and called me a terrorist mastermind for a few hours. I don't know if this was a joke like SWATing that went more boringly than planned or if someone really worried about me having real plans to hurt America. That I said directly to them, in public, out loud.

I have a dog that's violent to strangers, and if any law enforcement kick in my door the first thing they'll do is shoot him dead. I'm not really worried about any other articulable thing. I just feel weird now. Weird, and sort of on edge.

Grem posted:

A federal agent actually had to come down to your work to tell you you aren't funny.

Pulp Can Move posted:

An old farmer looks up from his work, wipes his brow, and considers at an approaching cloud.

"Downtime comin'."

Ein cooler Typ posted:

i'm not sure what disease I have

whichever one causes me to be a 25 year old virgin

Fart.Bleed.Repeat. posted:

At a local Subway my uncle ordered a footlong sub which they prepared, and as they were cutting in half like they do, he asked if they could cut it into quarters instead

"Sorry, I already cut it in half "

ikanreed posted:

Well they're a sandwich artist, not a sandwich mathematician.

Nooner posted:

huh you guys didnt have to make a whole thread dedicated to my post history

Moon Atari posted:

I think the forced analysis part is what makes kids hate the books they read in high school. At least for me it was a personal hell of dumb teachers focusing on eccentric and outright wrong interpretations, like a cineD thread but inescapable and where you are powerless to call people out on their poo poo.

Dirk Squarejaw posted:

Cars have long been designed with some sort of exhaust to route both noise and harmful CO from the driver and passengers. I've found that inserting a 1/2" 90-degree PVC elbow (with the outlet pointed away from my balls) into my rear end allows me to direct the odiferous gasses away from my precious balls. The thick walls of the pvc help cancel out the noise. I tried copper, but it sounded like a bicycle bell when I farted and the patina turned my rear end in a top hat green. My balls now smell as fresh as when I step out of the shower.