|My View Of The World
Author: WyrdWolf PM
A number of things that I must speak of. Not for the sensitive or defensive.Rated: Fiction T - English - Humor/Tragedy - Chapters: 10 - Words: 10,909 - Reviews: 103 - Favs: 18 - Follows: 3 - Updated: 12-14-07 - Published: 05-05-06 - id: 2168056
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Yes, it is chapter 10. It's been about forever and a day, but here's the next chapter of My View Of The World!
It is my belief that all old people are racist, and the ones that aren't racist are dead.
I wonder if people who work in the factories that print all the copies of the porn magazines have to 'go to the bathroom' a lot.
Apparently, translated in some language, 'vagina' means 'sheath'. Okay, think about that for awhile while I go straight to the gutter.
Imagine an archaic battle story where vagina is synonymous for sheath:
'He slipped his sword back into the vagina.'
'The sword fell from his grasp but remained firmly encased in the vagina.'
'The sword rattled around inside its vagina.'
'His vagina cracked as it hit the rock.'
'The vagina could hold two swords at once.'
'Swordless, he could do naught but smack his opponent in the face with his vagina.'
And my personal favorite:
'He tried to draw his sword, but alas—it was stuck firmly in the vagina!'
That is it. I am officially sick of male enhancement commercials that euphemism the fuck out of the word 'penis'. For God's sake, it's a clinical term! 10 interviews in a row, and when men were asked how the product worked, they all said, 'I got bigger…down there.' Even the doctors and spokespeople said stupid shit like, 'Increases the size of that certain part of the male body.'
That's a direct quote, people.
And the Enzyte commercials are ri-goddamn-diculous, to quote Dr. Evil. That dick Bob couldn't wipe the smile off his face with lava and a spinning car tire, which is a good thing, too, because he'd probably end up talking otherwise.
Next time you see an Enzyte commercial, pay attention to the part where they mention the free trial. If you look, you'll notice that the three pointer hands are pointing to blocks of wood on which the pills rest. Get it?
God. Here's the crap I've heard. I mean, look at this bullshit:
'Natural male enhancement'
'Makes you bigger…down there'
'Increases the size of that certain part of the male body'
'I got…I got larger'
Oh, and my favorite.
'Honey, look what I got in the mail. It's a pill for male enhancement.'
'Male enhancement? You mean, like, muscles?'
'No! MALE enhancement.'
You wanna sell those pills? Give a free sample to a dude who's less well-endowed than the average newborn and interview him without warning. You know what he'll say?
"I'VE GOT HUGE COCK AND I LOVE IT!"
That'll sell your goddamn boner pills.
-----How To Have Fun: Tip #4
Order something memorable at a drive-thru then pull around, park, bring your food inside the restaurant and eat.
Shopping carts are the only things that last forever.
I hate emo kids.
First off, just so nobody's confused, let me explain the type of emo kids that I hate. The kind that wear all black, listen to screamo and death metal, and write the shittiest, most morbid and graphic poems known to man. And think that nobody hates them.
There. Now, emos…(emoes?)…
That has got to be the most pointless 'statement' to make. 'I hate life, it hates me, so I'm going to write gruesome things.' Go to hell. Life happens to be the one thing on this planet to actually appreciate; I promise you that blood and black and screaming that is supposed to be singing aren't anywhere on that list, you crazy asshole. Does the color yellow actually give you hives? Is it possible to wear a shirt that doesn't have a shitty band on the chest? Holy shit, I would rather see a Spice Girls tube top on you than another goddamn HIM shirt, I swear to God. How many HIM shirts do emo kids own? It's gotta be like a superman closet with moth balls of depression to keep it freshly rotted.
And what in the fuck is going on with plaid? Plaid is suddenly an emo thing now; are they gonna start carrying axes and yelling timber every time one more bit of their sanity teeters and falls?
I just can't comprehend how you can live with yourself if the only thing you think about is how nice it would be to be dead. What the hell is the matter with you? Plaid pajama pants and a taste for the necrotic are not a fantastic combination. Stop writing your bullshit about your girlfriend dumping you and turning it into (and I quote an actual poem read by an emo) a scene where she took you to the woods and shot you, then you came back as a ghost, raped her, tore her into pieces, then cut your own throat.
What. The. Fuck possesses someone to write such unbelievably senseless and repugnant rhino shit? How can someone hate life so much? How can someone actually waste something so valuable by giving in to the worst kinds of cynicism and sadism on the planet?
Listen to me, you plaid-plastered misanthropists. It is obvious you have problems, and instead of taking them out on stray dogs, seek some help or just fulfill your own greatest desire.
Goddamn, I hate emo kids.
Ah, the end of the chapter. We'll see where it goes from here, eh?
p.s. Fucking emo kids…!!