>>633 A guy threw his own pizza into a puddle. He complained to Little Caesars (text customer service?) and sent a pic. The response was undoubtedly a break with corporate protocol, and someone found it funny.
>>693 in case you didn't get the point of that picture, I would accompany it with "help, there's a faggot on my keyboard"
saved that picture a long-ass time ago to use on some other imageboard I can't remember the name of
I would like to apologise to Mr One, first name No. This world is constituted of nothing but artificial, fleeting joys that tempt you to cast the dice once again, play another round. More perversly, it also convinces you that your losses are real and uses emotions as an avenue to inflict overwhelming damage to the psyche. And all for what? For a thousand asinine facimiles for the propagation of your genetic lineage. Every animal but the human one understands implicitly that the existence of its species is entirely self-servient. ‘Meaning’ is a word generated entirely by delusions that this great scam of life would have you believe. I hate this world, but I know that even in my hatred I’m playing my instrument in its meaningless orchestra. But the least I can do it quit as early as possible.
The roasties of 2018 have become chronically prolapsed STD hostels. Despite their steady dribble of viscous snail trails, their dangly beef curtains, even their near constant harvesting of new strains of HPV and gonorhea, Chads and Betas line up to service them, to wallow and worship in beefed out body horror. It's been said the bow-legged sluts of our era are now so rotten, their eviscerated vaginas actually "spit" every time they take a step. Sometimes with an audible queef, other times quiet, these whores jettison whatever melange of fluids are sloshing within their polygamous caverns. It's not unusual to spy spotty trails and blood tinged puddles wherever the posterior of a sexually liberated woman has rested.
I sexually assaulted Harvey Weinstein. He came in to get a massage at a resort I worked at when he stayed there once. He made some comment about thinking there'd be female masseuses, but we didn't have any on staff at the time. He got up on the table anyway, and when I was working his glutes, I couldn't help but notice how sensual his big, hairy Jew ass was. I wound up spending more time on his glutes than I should have, but I couldn't help it. Finally, I lubed up my middle finger with massage oil, and slipped it into his asshole up to the first knuckle. Well, I guess he wasn't up for a prostate massage, because his whole body immediately stiffened, then he bucked like a rodeo bull and yelled, "What the fuck are you doing?"
He's a big guy, though, and he nearly threw out his back with that gyration, so he collapsed onto his side on the table. He collapsed with his rear toward me, though, so my finger slid even deeper in his bunghole. I figured he was going to be furious no matter what at this point, so I decided to really finger his shitter while his fat body was flailing on the table. I shoved it in to the hilt and went for broke. He managed to roll himself off the table on the opposite side from me, however, and as he did so, my finger vacated his rectum with a pop. The man had murder in his eyes as he looked across the table at me. A chase-around-the-table like in the cartoons ensued, before I made a break for the exit. Being younger and faster, I managed to outpace him, get to my car, and get the hell out of there. I knew I could never go back, so I had to say goodbye to that job. I wasn't too worried about the cops. Even assuming he wasn't too embarrassed to call them, I was working at the resort under a fake name and SSN. I'm Mexican and didn't have my own papers at the time.
I still kiss my middle finger sometimes and think of Harvey's big juicy tuchus.
Imagine a metal wire (about the thickness of paper clip wire) that has a thin layer of rubber insulation around it. Now imagine that instead of rubber insulation, it's actually a thin layer of meat, similar to jerky. Well apparently this meat-covered wire exists as some kind of snack food. I bent the wire back and forth until it snapped off a length a couple inches long, then I balled up the piece of wire and chewed on it to snack on the meat. After there was no more meat I swallowed the ball of wire. Did this a couple time. Then logic kicked in and I realized how stupidly unsafe it probably is to swallow a piece of wire that probably has sharp ends. I was stuck at a paradox. Surely you're supposed to swallow the wire along with the meat since that's the way the snack food is meant to be eaten, otherwise why would they make it like that? Or was I being stupid, and nobody is supposed to swallow the wire along with the meat? Then it occurred to me how bizarre what I was eating really was. There was more wire than meat, why was there even wire inside the meat in the first place? What the hell was I even eating and where did I get it from? Then I woke up from the dream, but there was a disgusting taste in my mouth. The last time I had a dream that left a disgusting taste in my mouth hours after the dream was when I was 15 and had a dream I was eating Kinder Surprise chocolate eggs, but instead of pure chocolate it was made of that cardboard they make egg cartons out of.
Post faster, fuckers.
Random image thread.