Tag Archives: weird

Would You Rather Wednesday #1

In an attempt to be lazy and write less, I’ve decided to have a weekly “Would You Rather” question.

This week’s question:

Would you rather find your significant other cheating on you with an elf or find out that they’ve been kidnapped by Santa Claus (In which case, I’m not sure you’d ever see them again)?

Share your answers below!

*Credit to mah brother for helping me draw!

OR

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Pa-Pa-Pa Poke Her Face

One of the more useless functions on Facebook is the “poke” feature. What exactly does this do, besides annoy the living crap out of people? “Teehee, I virtually poked you.”

No, you didn’t.

I’m sitting at my desk right now, completely poke-free. I don’t know you who think you poked, but it wasn’t me. I have no splitting pain in my side and unless you’re some invisible entity, you sure as hell didn’t poke me.

There’s a higher chance that I poked myself.

And the poking wars! Well, I hate having notifications stuck in the upper right hand corner of my homepage, so of course I unintentionally encourage this idiotic behavior. Until someone finally forgets, the pokes are generally endless.

I’m damn tired of it. Next time you poke me, I’m camping outside your house in the nearest bush and waiting for you to step out. I’m going to tackle you to the ground, Facebook Poker, and finally give you all the pokes you deserve.

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DON’T PANIC

I live at school. During Christmas break, I come home and bring most of my junk with me, especially the things that need to be washed (an early Christmas present for my darling mother). However, I do, from time to time, take trips back to my dorm, as I did this exceptionally fateful day.

Okay, maybe fateful is a tad over dramatic.

Well, I was having myself a nice chat with the boyfriend over the interspace and he tells me he’d be right over. Cue this face:

Mushroom cloud of trepidation.

Why? Because I stink. Not a problem! You say. Just take a shower. That’s what I thought too. I grabbed some articles of clothing and went my merry way when I stopped cold. I forgot to bring a towel. My roommate was sleeping. I could have stolen her towel, but that’s just so wrong. What else could I do? Air dry? No, that would take too long. So then, what’s just as good as towels?

Paper towels.

Naked, I dashed into the living room, grabbed the towels and ran back into the bathroom. All right, let’s do this! La, la, la, la, la! In the shower! All’s good. I step out, rip off a piece of paper towel, and start dabbin’ myself. One paper towel soaked. Two paper towels soaked. Three. Four. Five! Oh gawd, too many paper towels. I’m way too eco-friendly for this. As I stood there, naked and cold, I had a great idea!

I’ll use the door! So I opened the door, made sure everyone was still sleeping, and then started swinging it back and forth between my hands. Sure, the burst of air was freezing, but tell you what. It got the job done. In a strange way. And, so as to please your hypothetical side, I have included a diagram of what that may have looked like, should you have been the unlucky bastard looking down the hall.

Notice the shower cap. Hot, huh?

Was I dry? Indeed. Was it weird? Quite. Mission accomplished? Verily! I slipped on some undergarments and for the next 15 minutes, chilled in mah undies. Turned on the tube, flipped through the channels a bit, enjoyed my new-found faux-naturel state…

And then the air came on.

Always know where your towel is.

-Douglas Adams

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The Importance of Dashes

When people are speaking, they are tempted to throw together all kinds of words. “That’s a cool ass game you’ve got there!” or “Let’s write so hard people everywhere will be amazed” are just examples of a few such concoctions. But what happens when you add a dash in certain places? Let’s watch our favorite word combinations take a turn for the worst…

"That's a cool ass-game you've got there!"

“Let’s write so hard-people everywhere will be amazed!”

"I did some bomb-wrapping on your present!"

"Hey, who said you can just throw those fucking-grenades around?"

"That was a smashing-party!"

"I hate this stupid-shit!"

“I love watching people-eating bacon.”
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Forever Infatuated With My Phalanges

The greatest gifts my mother ever gave me were my 10 fingers. Like seriously….they beat out the Playstation 2 I got for Christmas 2001.
My fingers have always been there to help me out. Always there when I needed assistance in math, kept me hanging on monkey bars, and gave me company during lonely nights…but we won’t get into that.
These ten bony, bendable fixtures have been the outlet for my creativity, athleticism,  and skill, and have poked around countless Pringle cans, bodily crevices, and tapped in more Grand Theft Auto cheat codes than I care to remember.

I love those little bastards.

But what I truly covet most about my fingers is that they’ve always kept me fed like a 24 hours Denny’s.

Folks,I must admit….I adore biting my fingernails. My steady diet of wedgie-pickers and back-scratchers has been confused for anxiety and apprehension.

Alas my friends, have no worries. I simply have an insatiable appetite for my mother’s genetic home cooking.
You’ll know I’m enjoying my meal when I go back for seconds…then thirds…then fourths, fifths, sixths…you get the picture.

It’s like a never ending buffet of crunchy, salty snacks; and the best part about it…..I don’t have to share.

Yeah, I love digging for gold and peeling off stickers on fruits as much as the next guy, but goddamn, do they taste GOOD!……..At least it ain’t crack cocaine.

Right?

  Marvin Pineda

Spongebob biting lip

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