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[StaedlerMars]

that really fucked with my mind for a second.

[David_Dovey]

ONOES I'VE BEEN HACXED

[JD]

uhhhh

[jhocking]

Read the "interrogate billy" section, dude is fucked in the head.

[Josefbugman]

Apparently he fails both Biology and Logic forever.

[snalin]

But aren't white nationalists evil people?
If white people having their own country is evil then every race is evil - because every race has their own country (except whites).

My underlining, because, what? What asshole did he pull that out off?

[jhocking]

Even if it were true that white people didn't have their own country, then that nullifies the whole point of his bad-logic answer.

That answer is stupid compounded on more stupid. It's, like, meta-stupid. It's genius!

[jhocking]

I was just watching week-old episodes of the Tonight Show and learned an amazing tidbit from international news:

KUNG FU MONKEYS TURN TABLES ON TRAINER

[Jimor]

Actual trailer for an actual movie that made it into (a very small number of) theaters.

Manos, The Hands of Fate has some competition.

[Boro_Bandito]

Fuck I've made a film better than that.

[JD]

[Zingoleb]

I need another word for vagina guys



My favourite is "Breakfast of Champions"

[JD]

Ally show us your Пелотка

[scarred]

I LOVE SQUISH MITTENS

[JD]

Alternatively you could show us your papaya

[scarred]

Possibly your floppy harmonica

[scarred]

musty pooter

[JD]

Your Female Genitalia

Wait that came out wrong

[scarred]

what the fuck is wrong with you

seriously

(also "cock gobbler" might be my new favorite)

[JD]

Black and Decker pecker wrecker

[Zingoleb]

queef machine!

[Malek]

I see. Glad we got that across.

[Jace]

Yeasty Beasty.

[scarred]

Sloppy fun pocket!

[Zingoleb]

The One-Eyed Bearded Clam

[scarred]

HAIRY CHALUPA

[Zingoleb]

New exclamation of surprise right there. Hairy Chalupa, holy shit and moist fuck are my new axis of profanity.

[Coward]

[Alex C]

(also "cock gobbler" might be my new favorite)

On a similar note, I was always fond of "cock socket," but have never really used it, since saying such things tend to lower the odds of actually getting to handle one again any time soon.

[Zingoleb]

It sounds like a combination wrench/masturbatory aid

Not necessary pleasant masturbation but it is masturbation

[Dliessmgg]

Eine kleine Barackmusik

[Zingoleb]

[scarred]

It's a common problem. I've often had to consult the vast databases of the intartubes to solve such dilemnae.

[Dliessmgg]

More importantly, what are hemroids? Droids with a hem fetish?

[scarred]

wait holy shit this is actually a thing

[scarred]

the product reviews are so ace

I haven't eaten in three days. This book was so amazing it paralyzed me from the waist down.

There are few literary works that one can effectively identify as life-changing or life-saving. Indeed, in these turbulent times, one has to search diligently for the true masterpiece, the work that illuminates existence with each subsequent word.

"What are These..." is one such piece. Both a satire of American consumerism and a tragedy of modern disconnect, readers will find I'm not being hyperbolic when I say that while we may be preoccupied with the salience of strawberries on our nipples, in the process we are forgetting the strawberries in our hearts.

It was the summer of 1993 when I met Akando, a Native American in his mid-50's from the Appache tribe, at a truck stop somewhere in the American Southwest. I had recently set out on a cross country journey from my home town of Albany, where I had been ridden out of town for a seductive new dance I called "The Seduction", also for arson. I took to hitchhiking my way from town to town, doing odd jobs in exchange for room and board. Carpenter in Maryland, wet nurse in Atlanta, astronaut in Cape Canaveral... I did what I had to do to survive. My ultimate goal was sunny Portland, land of hope and city of dreams.

Starting a new life always seems like a good idea at the time, especially for convicted arsonists... no more trials, no more stares at the Piggly Wiggly from Old Man Jennings who thinks he's better than you because he didn't burn down the library, no more libraries calling out your name in the middle of the night screaming at you to grab your arson kit and once again feel the power of almighty flame, but starting over isn't that easy. Not with the better part of the U.S. Marshal's office hunting you down, always one step behind you.

Hiding in plain sight, I thought, would be my best option and the Wichita school board needed a new chairman. Little did I know how corrupt and drug-crazed local school boards can be. Jeremy, my new lover, tried to warn me to no avail. No one told me how easy it would be to take money intended for a new gymnasium and turn it into a mountain of cocaine and my own Russian sex slave Annia. But Jeremy would have none of that and both wound up dead in an apparent murder-suicide. That was when I knew it was time to resign my post in the Wichita school board.

The next several months are a blur... from what I understand from police reports and my personal correspondence with my dear uncle Vernon, I wound up in New Mexico. That is where I discovered Akando, eating a Denver omelette at the dirtiest truck stop in the dirtiest city I had ever seen, Alburquerque. Akando brought me to his tribe's sweat lodge and we discussed the plight of his people. He then took me on horseback to a fire in the middle of the desert and introduced me to a drug known as peyote. I will never forget my experience with the psychoactive cactus, for when I awakened in a different state (Oregon), in a different city (Portland), wearing different pants (khakis), there lay a novel next to me: What Are These Strawberries Doing on My Nipples?: I Need Them For The Fruit Salad! The novel described in great detail my experience while on peyote, I had evidently taken a job as a day laborer in a small strawberry patch somewhere in Northern California and was known to my co-workers as "The King of All Fruit Salad". I later learned that one of my co-workers at Phil's Berries was none other than Vanessa Feltz and after reading her book I discovered that it is a word for word copy of my novel of the same title. One day I will find Ms. Feltz and vengeance will surely be mine.

I had been trying to figure out how the strawberries got there after my frequent blackouts, and this book answered that question for me AND told me where to hide the bodies. Thanks Vanessa!

It would have been a five star rating, but it fails to explain the smell of brimstone whenever I open this book, or the man in clown makeup tied up in my basement. (Was the makeup there before I tied him up, or did I apply it? This question keeps me up at night) Still: if you have similar problems, this book is for you.

[ZJGent]

???

In regards to the Vaginal Etymologiser, my Gothic colleague at work and I have made a sport (on the quieter nights) of putting together two or three separately innocuous words to make the dirtiest of dirty phrases when together. Some previous examples include:
Foetid Brine-Pipe
Beef Dripping
Thrumming Wet Slice

[pwhodges]

Beef Dripping

Surely you're not claiming to have invented Beef Dripping?

[MrBlu]

First, I have to admit that I did not buy this book at Amazon. Instead, I found a well-read copy jammed next to my seat on a Greyhound bus. I was broke, having spent my last $[...] on a one-way ticket from Phoenix to someplace better. Any place better. My ticket said Seattle, But I never wanted to go to Seattle. The truth is, I wanted to go to San Francisco, but I was afraid to say it. I was worried that the old man behind the glass would think I was a fag if I bought a ticket there. So I just said the name of the closest city I could think of.

So anyway, the book. I found it as soon as I sat down on the bus. The bright red cover, showing a buxom blonde leaning submissively forward, revealing cleavage a guy could fall into, really caught my attention. I held the book, thinking how lucky I was to have found something to read as we crossed the desert. And then, a moment later, I just felt dirty. I mean, this was somebody else's book, and just keeping it for myself felt like stealing. I checked with the bus driver to make sure I had time, and I took the book to the ticketing desk to see if anyone had reported it missing.

"Excuse me," I said through the small hole in the bullet resistant glass. "Did anyone lose a book called 'What Are These Strawberries Doing on My Nipples: I Need Them for the Fruit Salad!'?"

The lady behind the counter picked up the phone.

"I found this book in my seat," I said, pressing the cover to the glass. "I think somebody might have lost it. Maybe it's important to them."

I watched her glazed, half-lidded eyes scan the cover. First she looked at the cleavage, and the title, and then back at the cleavage.

She dialed the phone, and talked quietly into the mouthpiece. I couldn't hear what she was saying, but she had to repeat the name of the book twice.

"Somebody will be right with you," she said.

Great, I thought. I was glad I hadn't kept it and had decided to do the right thing. I felt like I'd just put some Karma in the bank, and didn't need it back right away. It was a good feeling.

"Is that your book, sir?" said a baritone voice behind me. I turned to see three security guards. Two of them were huge, with shaved heads and bulging biceps, barely restrained by their too-tight uniforms. The other was a lanky guy with a big beer belly, whose uniform must have been borrowed from one of the other two. The name tag of the guard addressing me read 'Bubba.'

"No," I said, holding the book so they could see the cover. "I found this on the bus and wanted to see if anybody had reported it missing."

"Is that pornography, sir?" Said Bubba, eying the cover.

"That better had not be pornography," said the other burly cop, whose name tag also said 'Bubba.'

"I don't know what it is," I said. "It's called 'What Are These Strawberries Doing on My Nipples: I Need Them for the Fruit Salad!'"

"Sir!" said the first Bubba. "Do not swear. If you swear again, I will arrest you!"

"I didn't swear," I said. "I just read the title of this book. See? The word 'Nipple' is right there...."

This was my first experience being tased. Every muscle in my body tensed and vibrated in unison. I could hear my own voice, but I couldn't control it. It was detached, but I could tell I was screaming. I slowly became aware that somebody else was screaming, too. In fact, a lot of people were yelling things. As I regained my senses, I noticed a couple of people were filming with their camera phones.

"Jesus, Bubba!" I heard someone say. "Put that taser away! This is the third time today!" It was the lanky guy, who was apparently Bubba's supervisor.

"I didn't do nothin!" said the other Bubba.

"Not you, idiot." Said the supervisor.

"What did I do?" I pleaded. "I just wanted to return a lost book! It's called 'What Are These Strawberries Doing on My Nipples: I Need Them for the Fruit Salad!'"

Bubba tased me again.

"Bubba!" Yelled the supervisor. "Knock it off!"

Bubba released the trigger. I was on the floor, and my body felt strangely relaxed, but only compared to the seizure I'd just experienced. Relaxed or not, my entire being hurt. I noticed Bubba was getting his hand-cuffs out.

Long story short, I never got on the bus. I was arrested and charged with disorderly conduct and interfering with interstate commerce. I'm currently half-way through a nine month sentence, wearing pink underwear, picking up trash on Arizona roads.

The book 'What Are These Strawberries Doing on My Nipples: I Need Them for the Fruit Salad!' is in an evidence locker somewhere. I hope to read it some day. I wonder what it's about.

I'm kinda curious about this book now.

[Yayniall]

Don't be, it's Vanessa Feltz.

[Caleb]

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p8qp3whnsDw&feature=player_embedded

Whunk whunk whunk whunk whunk whunk whunk whunk whunk whunk whunk whunk whunk whunk whunk whunk whunk whunk whunk!

[jhocking]

That bird hates.

[Zingoleb]

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XkvRPc7l4ls

Headbanging cockatiel version

[Dliessmgg]

Edit: Physics don't exist, it's all gnomes.

[glyphic]

 

That sarlacc pit has a clitoris.

[jhocking]

Yeah that sarlacc is pretty fruedian.

[JD]

Another name for vagina was born

[Scandanavian War Machine]

I'd plummet to my rocket-propelled death in her sarlacc pit, if you know what I mean.

[LeeC]

[Dliessmgg]

Olé!