Textual Intercourse

me: so I guess I'm seeing Sniz and the Shitty 2 with my aunt





Brady: I couldn't see that with a relative. I'm sure there is at least one dildo in it.





me: nah, it's cool. She's up to her elbows in vag all day.

Rabbit?

The girl who was in my new apartment before me left this in addition to all the crap I bought from her:



It took me a while to figure out what it was. It took so long because I didn't want to touch it. Obviously because it looks like a fucking dildo. Apparently it is a hand-held air pump. So. . . yeah, maybe still a sex toy. I don't know? Maybe she was a freak-nasty ho.

That Hurt My Feelgoods

Where's Waldo

Oh shit, is that Saffron from Absolutely Fabulous?? I didn't know a bitch got abducted.

Oops. My Bad.

I try to keep my friends on Facebook limited to people who are actually relevant to my life. I noticed someone today who I had only briefly interacted with, and even that was a while ago. I decided to defriend him, which is something I find really fun. It turns out it's his birthday. Happy birthday, let's never talk again!

She Done Did It Again

Watch this 15 times, and memorize it. Or I'll kill you!

Textual Intercourse

(about Serena van der Woodsen on Gossip Girl)
she's still wearing her ridic outfit
Brady: ?
me: from when she met her dad at the helicopter
Brady: oh
me: her slutty spy outfit or whatever
Brady: yeah when she teleported herself there
me: with her sniz witch powers
Brady: I was going to say with her Sailor Slut powers
me: Gutter Crystal Power!
Brady: SNIZ Star Power MAKE UP!
me: what would her attack be?
Brady: Dumpster Fire BLAST

Textual Intercourse

me: gross. i'm watching a movie where this guy said "each one of you is to stick to the guy who called you like stink on quim"



me: it rang a bell, but i couldn't remember what quim meant



Brady: SNIZ



me: yeah, apparently it's the fluids produced by the sniz



me: i need to start working it into my vocabulary



Brady: oh

Brady: I feel gross

me: worked out?

Brady: no I just didn't shower yet

me: oh did you work up a sniz sweat beating off or something?

Brady: yeah

me: okay that makes more sense

How Rude

I hadn't seen a contraption like this before that bastard just plopped down on the bleachers right in front of people. How motherfucking rude. It's one thing to bring a baby to an event (I don't think kids should be allowed outside home/school until they can be trusted not to throw fits) but to do so in such a way that literally sticks the little jackass in people's faces is ridiculous.

Congratulations, Assholes

I was at a graduation ceremony this morning. Not only did the dean of the particular college look exactly like she belonged as a teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchraft and Wizardy, but these little beasts were there:







I wanted to tell little Fred and George Weasley that one of them would lose an ear and one would die.

Textual Intercourse

me: i don't know what happened, but my facial hair grew really slowly this week
i swear there are times it has grown twice as fast

Brady: hmmm
maybe he is a beard thief
that's how he gaynes his lustrous scruff
by sucking the beard right out of unwitting fags

Good Advice

Preface: my friend Brady is shrewd and has a sharp mind that might be suited for detective work. It is for this we refer to him as Veronica Mars (or just VM). And his gay ass loved that show.


"Deal your crazy out in doses like I did with you. I didn't dump huge VM case files on you the first day. You would have run screaming. I dealt it out gradually, and now you are my token black assistant Wallace."

Textual Intercourse

me: okay i'll just write what it said. the news blurb at the bottom of the IM screen: 1 Chinese baby born with syphilis every hour

Brady: lol

Brady: damn chinese people

Brady: oops

Brady: just to clarify

Brady: That was "Damn, Chinese people."

Brady: As in "God Damn it get some treatment and wear a condom dirty bitches."

Sweet Dreams

Damn I had a crazy dream during my nap. First I was Samantha from Sex and The City. I was still dating Smith, and he came home to our balcony where I was waiting. I was wearing some kind of sexy white lingerie and looked about 26, not the old hag she is now. Smith came out to the balcony of our luxury apartment where I was waiting. I think we were doing some sexy roleyplaying game. He pulled out a gun, and aimed it at me, saying "it was a mistake to come unarmed." I knew it was part of the game, but that he was secretly serious and was going to kill me to get my money. He didn't think I knew the gun was loaded, and I pulled a tiny gun out of somewhere. Seriously, I think I had it in my snatch. He cocked his gun, but the bullet that was in it flew out of his and into mine, which transformed into a large silver and gold handgun. I cocked mine and shot at him, and then everything happened in slow motion. The bullet popped out little fins like on a missile and zoomed toward Smith, but it missed him and hit a wall, leaving a giant hole. The next thing I knew, I was myself and watching something happening on my front lawn. It was a platypus in a Greenman suit (you know, from It's Always Sunny In Philadelphia) dancing on his hind legs. All the while, during both dreams, the soundtrack was Ladytron's "Another Breakfast With You." fucking Bizarre.

Mashup

This is how Twilight should have been:

Can I Laugh At This?

Am I allowed to find this at all funny? I feel bad laughing at some of this first video; there are some especially painful parts. Since the second one is performed by African-Americans (and who knows what the ancestry of the first guys is), I guess I can ease my white guilt. Or am I just reinforcing racism? Oh well: OBAMANIQUA.

What Is Wrong With Me?

While watching the recent episode of Gossip Girl and tearing it apart with a friend, I had a great idea. Someone should write an episode inspired by Battle Royale, in which the characters are forced to kill each other. I'm too lazy to write a long piece involving everyone, but here is a short one featuring Serena and Vanessa. I should probably edit this and flesh it out some, but I'm lazy and tired. I guess I won't reveal any other ideas for a series in case I get motivated to write more. Please to enjoy:


===========================================================

Serena’s grip on the tree trunk tightened when she felt the breeze sway its boughs. She had surprised herself by scaling the giant pine so quickly. Her talons proved useful renting the bark to scale to a point where her prey couldn’t spy her insectile form.

The wind brought a faint jangle of what could only be chunky Bohemian jewelry and the scent of patchouli. Squinting, Serena whipped her head toward the noise. She sharply exhaled the musky odor while watching Vanessa slowly make her way along the path below. Vanessa was dressed in earthy camouflage in order to blend in with the—wait, no; it was just her billowy peasant blouse and matching gypsy skirt that fit in seamlessly with the environment. Her ratty, teased hair matched the drab earth perfectly, but Serena’s senses were too keen to be fooled.

Vanessa felt inspired by the nature surrounding her and stopped, pulling out her small writing pad she kept on her person for just such occasions. She felt the spirit of Henry David Thoreau coursing through her as she jotted down the first line of what would be her masterpiece: “When I wrote the following pages, or rather the bulk of them, I lived alone, in the woods. . .” Yes, she thought, I’ll call it Walden, by Vanessa Abrams.

Serena saw her chance to strike, but couldn’t resist toying with her victim before the kill. She silently removed her underwear with an internal thank you that the Plan B had worked and she wasn’t pregnant with Nate Archibald, Tripp Archibald or Carter Baizen’s child. Otherwise she wouldn’t be menstruating, which is the only time she ever wore panties; and she would be denied her fun. She let the silky couture undergarment flutter to the ground at Vanessa’s bare, Hobbit-like feet with a smug feeling of triumph that it would be the most expensive article of clothing to come in close contact with the gutter churl.

Vanessa halted her glorious writing process and bent down to get a better look at what had dropped before her. She turned the smooth material over in her many-ringed fingers with a confused look on her wizened, beyond-her-years face. Serena loosened her hold on the tree and let herself drop directly above Vanessa as she spread her legs in midair. The gypsy touched the dark stain on the underwear. Her eyes widened with realization.

She would recognize those blood clots anywhere. Vanessa heard the telltale whooshing of air rushing through a cavernous orifice and looked up too late. Serena’s gaping vagina swallowed Vanessa whole and was already beginning the digestion process. Inner teeth went to work gnashing brittle, osteoporotic bones (Vanessa was vegan and lacked a vital source of calcium from milk), and acidic fluids melted away at the scant meat available. In a matter of hours there would be nothing left but tacky jewelry.

Serena squinted and drew her mouth into a creepy smile with a rumble of her gut. She was still hungry, but that would have to wait. She had to prepare for a formal gala where she suspected all her family and friends might end up by happenstance. She decided that her next meal would be her brother Eric; no one cared about him anyway. Not that Rufus or their mother Lily would think to inquire about him, but if they did, she would just tell everyone that he went to live in Vietnam. Or died of super AIDS.