a new beginning

" I knew it would come....the day all hell would break loose "
Brotha Lynch


Man, life decided to toss ya boy a curve ball....its time for a new beginning...but when one door closes another one opens right..?

All aboard......this trains destination is the unknown....next stop is....?

MARS...INSIDE THE SICK MIND BEHIND MAD INSANITY

For those that dont know who he is, MARS is the CEO of Mad Insanity Records, one of Horrorcore rap's most controversial artists, sharing the title with groups such as I.C.P, Esham,and others. While my knowledge of horrorcore music may be limited due to the lack of exposure, I have grown to like the fans of the music and some of the music itself as well.

These crazed fans,known as "Juggalos" or "Mad Insanes" are a cult like following of fans that show a type of dedication to their artists that is somewhat unheard of nowadays..The Mad Insanity forum on Siccness.net (http://siccness.net/vb/forumdisplay.php?f=130)holds some of the more twisted minds of the site, many of which have...and will be called upon to execute devious pranks, promote albums with street and web campaigns , and basically support the label any way possible

. While the music may be dark with images of rape, murder, suicide, self mutlation, and drug use...it is also quite entertaining and shows the creative imagination of Mars in full-effect. His music was said to have been linked to a school shooting far outside of California, he was one of the troubled teen's favorite artists...thus causing a media frenzy to attempt to blame the actions of the shooters on the music they listen to.


* I have to strongly disagree with the theory that music provokes actions, if that were the case then the new would cause me to kill, murder, rob and steal...if music can push a kill to commit a massacre, wouldnt the new cause the same reaction....Do we have warning stickers on the news?...Do they warn us that parental advisory may be needed when they discuss rapes, murders, robberies, suicides, and bombings repeatedly? If horrorcore/gangster rap is the cause of the violence they speak of
in the song, Wouldnt channel 2 be responsible for the same for there news programs?
Is Cheaters making people cheat...? Is intervention turning the country into drug addicts by showing them how to do it?

Working with such artists as Tech9,Mike Marshall, Malice, I.C.P, ADR Lavey and may other...Mars has proven to be one of horrorcore's hardest artists.Another site describes Mars as follows...

"Take 51-parts of living life on the streets, and add it to 50-parts of sick flow and hypnotic voice, and you get Mars: the perfect lethal combination of gangsta rap and horrorcore, who himself has been labeled as 51.50 in his various stints at California psychiatric wards. Like the planet that shares his name, Mars’ life has been hellish and punctuated by periods of utter catastrophe. However he has emerged from it many albums later with a diverse cult-like following of fans from every genre, and an immensely powerful clout in the horrorcore scene. "

Enjoy the Music...
Mustynutz

First off...In introduction to Horrorcore...Mars and the Mad Insanity empire, and more


More News clips


I'm so Ganxsta off of the School House Glock album


Mars feat. Mike Marshall
THEY WATCHING ME
( off the Tunnel Runners album, hardest track on the entire album )



THE OFFICIAL MARS WEBSITE
www.madinsanity.com
THE OFFICIAL MARS MYSPACE
www.myspace.com/MARS
FOLLOW MARS ON TWITTER
www.twitter.com/madinsanity

MORE GREAT WAYS TO FUCK WITH PEOPLE, HOW TO STEAL A CAR, SHOOTIN DICE...AND MORE...

Remote controlled electric chair.....brilliant!


This one is another purely genius idea....Is it real?


JIGGA BOO JONES- HOW TO STEAL A CAR IN BROAD DAYLIGHT....


HOW TO MAKE $14,658 A WEEK JUST BY SHOOTING DICE IN THE HOOD


OG REESE LOC FROM THE EAST SIDE SAN JOSE, CHECKERS DRIVE C-BLOCC, PUTTIN IT DOWN FOR JIGGABOO JONES

YA'LL BE ON THE LOOKOUT FOR THAT ENEMIGOS ALBUM, PRODUCED BY FILTHY RICH...

Dateline...APT.3/DNA/The Devil Block...and more

This is fuckin great...Real Creative..
TO MOLEST A PREDATOR !!!!




IF YOU THOUGH THE MOVIES "KIDS" WAS CRAZY...CHECK THIS OUT, THE YOUNGEST KIDS IS 8 YEARS OLD, AND THEY ARE SHOOTIN HEROIN....WOW..THIS IS REAL FOOTAGE, THE SOUND MIGHT BE LOUD ON IT SO WATCH THE VOLUME IF YOUR AT WORK



THE WEEBLE WOBBLES...THE DOPEFIEND LEAN....THE ZOMBIE...
call it what you what put it takes talent to keep ya balance like this dude





BIG UPS TO MY MAN ADR LAVEY HOLDING DOWN THE DEVIL BLOCK...BE ON THE LOOKOUT FOR HIS ALBUM COMING SOON ON APT3/DNA ENT.



Apt. 3/ DNA Ent....well known for the mobb sound, mixed in with horrorcore and more, has been dropping nothing but quality releases back to back, for as long as I can remember. This label has maintained a reputation of delivering that classic Bay sound that the genre was founded with,the gritty reality in the dark side of life.
While the Hyphy movement had its uprising and downfall, Mobb Music remains consistent to true fans of the sound, and the fans will continuosly support solid labels like Apt.3. With artists including ADR Lavey, Malice, and C-Fresh,they represent a true powerhouse of a label. The upcoming DVD gives a glimpse inside one of the bay area best rap labelos and they legacy built and maintained.


BIG UPS TO MY MAN ADR LAVEY HOLDING DOWN THE DEVIL BLOCK...BE ON THE LOOKOUT FOR HIS ALBUM COMING SOON ON APT3/DNA ENT.
ADR LAVEY- King Of The Devil Block

GREAT FUCKING PRANKS !

Remember making crank calls as a kid, that shit was great..I could never keep it going as long as some of these guys though, fuck these are great!



Panda Express


I GOT HIGH MOM....



HIlarious....this kid has real talent!



WALMART PUT ON LOCKDOWN...i cant fuckin believe they werent going to help, this could of been legitimate, then again...its WalMart. More emotion from the caller would have helped.




This guy gets hit hard...wow, such organization..what a campaign



AND THIS ONE IS JUST CLASSIC...THE RAP/THAI FOOD PRANK

TECHNOLOGY IN 2009

i need something to take my mind off the neighbors that have been fucking like labs rats upstairs, you can hear everything in this damn building.


Ok, is it just me or is 2009 just the most well-connected year in history...I mean seriously...an example

I'm online on my laptop, with a desktop on in the office, my cable phone and internet are all connected, my laptop is connected to a wireless router than let me take my laptop throughout all 4500 square feet of my home, my cell phone is also connected to the house wi-fi. So say Im online,if i decide to go take a shit i can know, without interupption..maintain a conversation by switching to my cell phone, on top of that my cellphone also double as a remote control for my laptop...so if i were to have some music playing on my laptop, not only can i maitin the conversation, i can also change the song playing from the toilet. But my laptop also has Wi-Fi stereo..so whatever is playing on my laptop, is played through my home stereo system...
im dizzy just explaining that...god, remember when the Bravo plus was the hottest pagers on the market,
wait...did i say pager...lol its a fuckin BEEPER.

1-4873-877-7415-173111-5417

anyone that can read that i will paypal $5 to
email me the translation..and i'll even make it easy for you fucks
its pager code

mustynutz@mustyworld.com

here a few video for today..



For some reason this was entertaining


Just say no to crack-berry

Musty's Videos of the Day

Do you have these symptons?...You might need drugs


Depressed?


Feeling Pain?


"Just SAY NO....I want another hit!"

Sticky Situations

Since the age of 4, when, in preschool, a girl named Jenny asked me to wake her up from naptime by tapping my penis on her forehead "the way daddy does,"

I think I've become some kind of metaphysically creepy-random-comments-from-girls magnet. Here's a few examples.

7th Grade:
The very first week of school.

Girl: You have a penis, right?
Me: Uhm, yeah. Why?
Girl: So, if you hold it straight out, you can make it look like a exclamation point, right?
Me: Uh...sure...
Girl: And if you kindof curve it, it'll look like a question mark, right?
Me: Theoretically-
Girl: But only I can do a period!
And with that, she yanked up her skirt to show me her blood-stained panties.

This blew my little 13-year-old mind.

It both turned me on and freaked me out at the same time. Later this girl got suspended from school. Apparantly she was so excited to be the first in her class to have a period, she ran into the middle of the boys' dodgeball game, and whipped off her shorts so they could all get a good look. A lot of balls instantly dropped, and not just those of the dodging variety.

9th grade:
My first sexual experience that actually involved nudity. While we're fondling each other, she asks me if I like Diet Coke.

Me: It's allright.
Girl: Well, I LOVE it. How 'bout you go get me a bottle of it?

I go downstairs and grab a 20 ounce bottle from the fridge. When I return, she says it's too cold.

Girl: How 'bout warming it up...by rubbing it on my tits?

So I began to rub her vigorously with the bottle. Soon enough, she asks me to shove it inside of her. She really enjoys it, and so do I because I KNOW that, with this girl, I'm definantly going to get off. That's when it gets crazy.

She rips out the bottle, opens it, and begins filling her vagina with Diet Coke. I swear, she nearly empties the volume into her vagina. I had seriously underestimated this vagina's liquid retention volume.

Girl: YOU LIKE DIET COKE?!?!?!? OH YEAH OH YEAH DRINK IT FROM ME!

I was noticebly freaked me, but I did want to get off, and I didn't want my first load-blow to be into 18.7 fluid ounces of a 0-calorie beverage. I began to go down on her, until she said the exact wrong thing.

Girl: OH YEAH, DRINK IT FROM ME! I'M THE KOOL-AID MAN! OH YEAH! OH YEAH!

I don't know how she did it with 16-year-old voice, but she sounded exactly like the Kool-Aid man from the commercials. I glanced at the wall, half-expecting him to burst through and over me a fruity beverage.

I was extremely turned-off.

She could tell, too. As she sat up to see what was wrong, she twisted her body in such a way that Diet Coke shot out of her vagina and all over my face, chest, and groin.


And it was at that sticky, low-calorie moment that my parents chose to pull into the driveway.

TEACHERS HATED ME !

In highschool, everyone has that one cool teacher that you can say everything too. The whole class usually jokes around with this teacher, is allowed to cuss in class, and enjoys being in that class. In my cast, it was my 9th grade teacher-- Mrs. Patterson.

Everybody in class joked around with her and traded insults, although she did have a line that could be crossed-- that line kept moving.

Stupid line.

I was usually the person to cross that line, not because I meant to. I just don't know when to put my foot in my mouth at times.

Mrs. Patterson's husband lost his right leg in a motorcycle accident years earlier, and she was prone to joke about it. Unfortunately, I didn't know the stopping point when arguing with her. Usually when I walk into her class, she'd pick a play fight with me.

"Oh look who it is. It's Musty. I guess they'll let anybody into this school these days."

"I guess they'll let anybody teach here too."

"Ooooh, you got me. I bet all that free-time you have at home alone comes in handy when coming up with good insults for class."

"I bet with all your husband's free time, he enjoys using you as his second leg to get around."

That was the only cheapshot I had, her husband's lack of a leg. If she didn't want me to use it as ammo, she shouldn't have loaded my insulting gun with it by informing me of his handicap. On this day, I had crossed the line and ended up hanging out in the principal's office all day.

Lucky for me, the principal was absent that day (he was having an affair with a married teacher), so I had fun making false announcements. Everyone got suspiscious when I kept calling the hottest girls in the school to the office. I eventually got lazy calling each girl one announcement at a time, so I took a shortcut.

"Yes, this is the principal. I'd like the girl's volleyball team, tennis team, basketball team, and Varsity cheerleading squad to report to my office. You're in trouble. You've been very bad girls. Teehee."

But that got old once I got caught. I think the 'teehee' tipped them off. And the fact that I didn't sound like an elderly black gentlemen who happened to be principal.

After several days of suspension, I was allowed back in class with Mrs. Patterson. Earlier in the morning, it was quite hot out, so I wore a t-shirt, shorts, and flip-flops to school. As the day wore on, it started to snow and the ground iced over very fast.

I walked into class freezing. Mrs. Patterson saw this opportunity and took advantage of it.

"Well looky here, Mr. Justin doesn't know how to dress for the weather. Ya know, if you had been watching the news last night instead of listening to your hippity hop maybe you wouldn't be freezing."

I wanted to put my foot in my mouth, but she opened up herself to this one. "Your husband loves hippity hop. That's all he does when trying to get around."

The class snickered as I walked to my desk. Mrs. Patterson shook off the comment, adjusted her Oakland Raiders bobblehead on her desk, and quietly got to work grading tests. She was the biggest Raiders fan, being from Oakland and all.

Then she started in again.

"Musty, I bet you don't get much sex."

"Neither does your husband, I bet he gets tired of trying to please you with that one leg."

Needless to say, I had to finish my test outside in the snow. She actually made me move my desk outside in the snow. The assistant principal walked by and smirked.

"You talked about his leg again, didn't you?"

"You bet your right leg I did."

The next week, Mrs. Patterson walked into class as we all sat down. She adjusted her little Bengals bobble-head doll one more time, then sat her large posterior in a chair. Unfortunately for her, that old chair gave in and one of the legs snapped off. She fell to the ground as the class burst into laughter.

I should've put my foot in my mouth.

Should have.

"Mrs. Patterson, at least now you've got a leg for your husband!"

She stood up, dusted herself off, and sat at her desk.

"Musty, why is it that you always target my husband? He may not have a leg, but he can do anything he wants."

"He can't be a punter for the NFL."

I couldn't have made a worse comment.

"Excuse me Mustiano? Did you just say my husband couldn't kick for the NFL?"

Stupid me, shutup now.

"Er.. I take that back. He could kick for the Cincinatti Bengals. I'm sure they'd take him."

And my family wonders why I failed her class.
__________________

Man VS. Machine

Today I was awakened by the sound of my cell phones aweful ringtone. Who the fuck could be calling me at 8am on a sunday? Fuck. It was my girlfriend.

Her:Are you awake?

Me:No this is my voicemail.

Her:Oh ok well ill call back... Hey stop fucking with me.

Me:Sure. What the fuck do you want?

Her: I have a 102 fever. I need a ride to the ER.

Me: Call me when it hits 104 and let me know how you feel

Her: they might give me some more vicodin


me: ...i guess we can go.... be there in 45 minutes

Her:thanks I love you bye.

Me: damn it

FUCK! Now im in this Making-me-get-up-at-8-o'fucking-clock-on-a-fuckin-saturday-while-I-should-be-sleeping-not-driving-your-ass-to-the-fucking-ER mood.

I throw on the shirt and pants that I wore the day before and slaped on my Converse that are falling apart and went to my 1984 Chevy Celebrity and fired her up. At least I tried to fire her up. Battery is dead. FUCK!

I arrived at my girlfriends 20 minutes late. She still wasnt ready and needed 20 more minutes to do her make up

. She comes out looking like shes going to the fucking prom or some shit.

Me:What the fuck took you so long!

Her:Oh I'm late?

Me:I said 45 fucking minutes. I was 20 minutes late. You are 20 minutes late from
the minute I got here. Thats 40 minutes late. And what the fuck are you wearing?

Her:I dont like to go out without make up and Im...*BARF*

Me:O hell mother fucking no you just puked. Fuck. Ok get out of the car , wait... first clean this up.

Her:Ok.
*20 min later*
Mek Lets get this cluster-fuck underway.

It is now 1:45. I havent had a coffee or a blunt yet. I am now cranky. I am now at the hospital.
Me:Do they have a coffee

Her:Yeah in the snack room.

Me:great Check yourself in. I needs me some java

Her:Thats fine.

I find my way through the maze that this hospital is and discover the coveted snack room. Ahh I can smell the coffee machine from here.

Some asshole bought 3 coffees which kept me 5 more mintues from my coffee and swisher

. But now it was there for me to use.

All mine. All I had was 3.00$ but thats enough. Large are 60Cents.
I put in my dollar, select size, strength, and type.Large 3x French Roast vanilla.

The cup falls, the machine whirrs and NOTHING FUCKING HAPPENS.

Me: Hey wheres my coffee? YOU PIECE OF SHIT BASTARD!

Now im pissed. I put in another dollar taking my total ammount of cash to 1.80$ This time the coffee comes out and its all gravy. As Im leaving I spot TGIFridays brand potato skins.

You have to understand that I love these tasty litte things. 1.00$. Perfect. I put in the dollar and selected the right code and the little prongs spun. I remember thinking I was lucky because it was the last one in the machine. The prongs stopped spinning and I looked down to see the skins hit bottom. Nothing. Nothing fell at all.Hulk smash!

I wish i was the Hulk because I would've destroyed the snack room instead of putting a big ass piece of glass in my foot. I got so pissed at the machine that I shook it violently and kicked it. I guess I dont know my own strengths because my foot went right through the 1/8th inch thick glass with ease. And the glass went into the webbing of my toes with ease too. Ill never buy converse again.

At this point in my life I wanted two things. Percocet and a smoke. I took my coffee and took the bag of chips along with several other items and sat in the chair across from the machine that had just raped me and I half destroyed. I was thinking about how much my foot hurt while I lit up a
smoke in the hospital. I of course only thought this for a few seconds because the vending machine fell forward, almost crushing me. At this point a male nurse, 24, 6'2'', 220lbs, comes in and starts asking a bunch of questions until he sees my foot. The hospital was nice enough to fix my foot before "removing me from the facility for disorderly conduct". But the day was mine in my eyes. Machine should never fuck with man. Especially not this man.


Man: 1
Machine 0

Keeping up with the Mustonians

When I was 8, the worst thing I ever did repeatedly was piss on my mailbox, because I was too lazy to go back inside the house. Maybe it's just me, but it seems as if today's youth is completely different then it was 8 years ago, when I was 8. Now, there are 8 year olds wearing Fubu clothes and using much more derogatory language. When I would have used the term, "do it", they use "booty sex all up in yo' ass". Now, there's nothing worse than being frightened by someone half your age. There's nothing even remotely more pathetic that constantly checkind behind your back to see if someone you could easily knee in their face was behind you.

This is the type of fear that I live in.

It started about a couple weeks ago. After getting off the bus (No, I do not have a car. Would you trust me with a car?), I made my way towards my house. It was actually a very short distance to travel, considering that my house was the first in the neighborhood. As I opened the mailbox to get the mail, I heard something in the distance. It sounded like a flock of crackhead hobos that had escaped into the suburbs. I was wrong.

It was a flock of crackhead 8 year olds riding scooters and swinging sticks at each other. Now, normally, I would have just ignored them and continued to go inside the house, but I was feeling particularly like an asshole that day. I wanted to see one of them get in the face and fall off his bike in agony, spilling his guts all over the street, and I would laugh and laugh and laugh.

Sadly, the did not occur. They passed me, and I turned around and started walking up my driveway...when I was hit in the head. After gasping with pain, I looked down at my feet and saw a stick. I turned my head down the street. I didn't need to see them there to know they did it, but them laughing on their "cool" Razor scooters had ignited something in me.

I couldn't let them just get away with hitting me in the head with a stick. What would that make me? It would make me a pussy. It would make me the pussiest of all pussies. If we were all pussies, I would be the biggest, and hairiest of them all.

So I walked after them. I refrained from putting an angry, or sad look on my face. I put a demented psycho look on my face. I wanted them to get scared enough to shit their pants and have their mommy clean it up for them. As I got closer and closer to them, I realized this plan wasn't working, and I didn't have a backup plan. I only expected them to ride away on their scooters, and I wouldn't have to do anything. What the hell would I do when I got to them? Beat them? Hell, that sounded like fun, but beating up an 8 year old would make me look like a sick, twisted pussy.

I frantically tried to think of something to do as I reached them. I needed my brain for this one.

My Brain: "Ha. You think I'm going to help you?"

And then I was there. I stood less than 2 inches from the ugliest and smelliest of those unruly children. He was about where my crotch was. After realizing that 8 year olds put just about anything in their mouths, I decided to back up a little.

Me: "Who threw this?"

They remained silent, but put smirks on their faces.

Me: "What are you retarded? I'll ask you one more time. Who, the fuck, threw this?"

Still, no one replied. Then, one of the kids walked up to me.

Kid: "I did, whatchyu gonna do, bitch?"

!!!!!!!!!!!!!! That son of a bitch just called me a BITCH! Who the fuck does this kid think he is?

Me: "You're fucking dead, cuntrag."

I raised the stick in my hand to smash his skull into two. To stick it through his fragile membrane, hearing the bones break, and the brain mush out of his head. To skin his flesh and feed it to the dogs while I got birds to eat his guts and then I would eat the birds and then I'd go to Taiwan and be the kickboxer like Jean Claudde Van Damme and avenge my brother even though all of his movies are the same, yet somehow interesting.

And then I heard a switch...

....it was a pocketknife.

One of the little bastards, wearing clothes 10 times the size of him, with what looked like remnants of Spagghetios on the corner of his mouth, pulled out a pocketknife on me.

Little Faggotass Bastard: "You don't call him a cuntrag, ho. You fuckin dead foo'."

So...I ran. I ran like the pussy I am. I was the biggest and hairiest pussy of them all. I was the clit of all clits. I was the smelliest, itchiest, bloodiest vagina ever.

But, come on. He had a fucking kinfe.

So I ran like a jaguar...an obese jaguar riddled with every malignant disease known to man. Reaching my door, I flung it open and closed it behind me, with my back against it.

My Brain: "AAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

Me: "Shutup, asshole."

Mom: "WHAT!?"

Me: "Uh...nothing."

So folks, this is the predicament that I am in. I've seen those asshole douchebags following me everyday, getting onto the bus, getting off the bus. Walking to get the mail, falling while getting the mail, having a heart attack while falling. They're everywhere. I can't sleep at night people. My eyes are bloodshot, and this post has taken me 3 hours to right. Look, I can't even spell write, right.

The only worse thing I can think can happen is......that they are reading this....

Shit.

My wife left me a few years ago for a cat she dated in high school. I never divorced her, just kinda swept the situation under the rug and moved on with my life. Not the best of ideas, but who gives a fuck, I was moving to Amsterdam in a few weeks, fuck it, right? WRONG!!! last night while in my hot tub.... my cell phone rings.

Doc: Hello sir, yes I'm Doctor Maxwell calling from County General.

Drunken Me: Okay, what?

Doc: Yes, I'm calling on behalf of your wife, Biatch (not really her name). She tried to commit suicide a few hours ago and your name was put as reference in case of an emergency.

Drunken Me: Why the fuck would she do that shit?

Doc: Uhh, Maybe because you are her husband sir.

Drunken Me: Hey doc.

Doc: Yes?

Drunken Me: Didn't you notice that you called a phone number out of the country?

Doc: Uhh, yes.

Drunken Me: So it's safe to assume that with me being here and her being there, that I aint with that trifling hoe? Right.

Doc: I suppose.

Drunken Me: With that being said, you tell her I'll see her in hell since she tried to off herself, and make sure you send the bill to the nigga she's with. Fuck you, good night. click

Not ten minutes later, I get a call from my in-laws, asking me to take her back and all this bullshit. Apparently, she's been so fucked up on whatever she could get her hands on, came up hot on a drug test and got fired. Here lies my dilemma, I said for better or for worse and all that sappy bullshit, but I'm torn between crazy psycho bitch or fine European pussy. People of Mustyworld, what the fuck should I do? I'm leaning towards the pussy!!! Holla back


*edit I left that bitch, went to Amsterdam, went broke and came back and now the bitch is begging to get me back

Girls...try the Mustynutz Diet to lose those extra pounds

Simply Swallow


www.dontspitswallow.com

In this age of calorie and carb counting and required nutrition labeling on foods, everyone wants to know exactly what's in what they're eating. And of course, if you're going to eat cum, it's no different. Unfortunately, it's hard to find exact nutritional data for semen, but here's some information to help you figure out how cum fits into your balanced diet.

What's in Semen

Obviously, semen contains spermatozoa, but sperm accounts for only a small percentage of spunk. Cum is 90 percent seminal fluid, which is composed of dozens of chemical components. The base of seminal fluid is primarily fructose (sugar) and proteins, with many other trace minerals and substances. Here's a listing of some of semen's ingredients:

Sugars: Fructose, sorbitol, inositol
Proteins and amino acids: glutathione, deoxyribonucleic acid (DNA), creatine
Minerals: Phosphorus, zinc, magnesium, calcium, potassium
Vitamins: Ascorbic acid (vitamin C), vitamin B12, choline
Hormones: Testosterone, prostaglandins
Body byproducts: Lactic acid, urea, uric acid, nitrogen
Is Eating Cum Healthy?
Healthy semen (that is, cum produced by a well-nourished, disease-free male) may in fact be not only safe to eat, but actually good for you. Seminal fluid, the base of cum, is a veritable nutrient-rich soup. Semen is a source of highly concentrated, high-quality protein. In dietary terms, it's comparable to egg whites or gelatin.

Besides protein, semen contains high concentrations of some minerals, such as zinc, and trace amounts of other important nutrients, like calcium and magnesium. While you shouldn't depend on a shot of cum to get your recommended daily allowances of vitamins and minerals, swallowing semen on a regular basis can't hurt as a dietary supplement.

Will Semen Make Me Fat?
Although cum may look creamy and opaque, it contains very little fat, and few calories. One teaspoon of cum contains about 5 calories, and the average ejaculation produces about a tablespoon of semen, for a total of 15 calories. Because of the sugars in seminal fluid, we'd guess that it has a few carbohydrates, but considering the relatively small volume of semen per "serving" we'd guess the total amount to be negligible.

Given that cum is a high-protein, low-carb snack, you'd think the Atkins Diet people would be all over it by now. Plus, when you factor in the calories expended in performing oral sex, chances are you're burning off much more than you're consuming. The only way that swallowing during a blow job will make you fat is if you cover your lover's dick with whipped cream and chocolate syrup.

Hiring day laborers helps the community, Viva La Raza

I just recently bought a house that was rented out to two lesbians before me. They trashed the place and I'm still cleaning up and fixing things that they screwed up.

I know what you're thinking-- two lesbians so wild for each other that they made hot love every day and night, resulting in the fucked up house that I live in now. Well, think again Mister. I'm talking about real-life lesbians. Not the "Hey-I-need-extra-money-so-I'm-going-to-makeout-with-this-equally-hot-girl-and-pretend-to-be-gay" lesbian that you'd probably see on Girls Gone Wild.

I'm talking about real life lesbians. You know, the fat ugly ones with crew cuts. There's a reason these girls go lesbian, you think any guy would give them a chance?!

Not that I'm one to talk, I'm very picky about my women. I like my women like I like my coffee.

Ground up and in the freezer.

HI-HO!

The master bedroom of this house was hot pink thanks to the Bash 'em Sisters, so I've been wanting to paint it for the longest time. My friend Bizmark decided to come visit

While half-way down the the back alley, we passed a gas station. To the right of the gas station were several men just standing there beside their parked vehicles. Bizmark and myself decided to stop at the station to fill up on gas and grab some snacks.

While inside, I asked the attendant behind the counter what all those men were outside standing around for.

"Those guys are here everyday. If you noticed, they're all illegal immigrants. They drive here everyday and wait there for men to come by and pick them up and put them to work. If someone needs their yard work done, they can come by and say that they need two or three laborers, then three of those guys will hop in the back of the truck, do the work, get cash for it, then brought back here. They'll all wait out here until about 3, and the ones that didn't get work that day will go back home and try again tomorrow."

Basically, day laborer

"How much do they usually work for?", I asked.

"Depends. Most guys get 'em to work for under minimum wage."

I thanked the lady and walked back out to my car where Biz was waiting, then continued to drive up the mountain.

"Musty , why don't you pay one of those guys to paint that room in your house?"

"That's not a bad idea."

"What do they work for? Money?"

"No Nutzo, they work for puppies and tortillas."

"What?"

"Why do they work for tortillas..?"

Fucking moron.

A few days later, I drove to the gas station. There they were, about 30 laborers standing around and talking. I pulled my car up to the group and stepped out.

They all looked at me like dogs at the pound begging for a new owner.

"Hey guys, I need one worker to paint a room."

They stared at me. They didn't understand what I was saying.

"Um.... Anyone speak English?"

A small, dark guy in a cowboy hat and denim buttoned up shirt stepped up. Okay, wait. All of them were small dark guys with cowboy hats and denim shirts.

"I speak... little English."

"I need someone to paint a room for me."

He stared at me.

"I...NEED...SOMEONE...TO...PAINT...A...ROOM"

Like speaking louder and slower would suddenly make them understand english.

I was growing irritated.

"How about 7 dollars an hour?"

Their eyes grew wide, like that scene in that one movie that really sucked.

"Siete dollares?", one of them spoke up.

"No. 7 dollars."

"I...go."

Finally. After standing there for ten minutes, I finally got one of them to work for me. I was negotiating with a labor union on wages and working conditions. Except an alien labor union that didn't understand what I was doing or what their job was.

While driving back, I let the guy fiddle with my radio. He seemed to like talk radio.

When we arrived, I pointed to the utensils on the ground. He immediately started doing the job, and that's when I left the room. Two hours later, he emerged from the bedroom with paint on his hands and arms. I paid him his money and drove him back to the gas station.

This morning, there was a knock at my door. I opened the door to two guys, one of them the one that painted my room. The other one was apparently trying to find work. He was wearing a t-shirt and shorts, not exactly impressive for a guy looking to find work. Now, if he had worn a suit and tie and brought along his credentials and resume, then maybe I'd be impressed.

Right now, the two are outside raking the yard. That'll keep them busy for a few hours. Until then, I'm trying to think of a way to tell them their services are no longer needed here. I can't afford to keep paying these guys to do my work for too long.

I'm thinking I'll just call them inside, sit them down, and break the news to them silently. Or perhaps I could pull the Donald Trump approach.

Either way, I'm going to fire these two.

Right after they make my dinner....

Having Fun on YahooChat or AIM

mikewilliams27: Hey, can you help me.
doctordannny: Hi.
mikewilliams27: I really need your help.
doctordannny: What's the matter.
mikewilliams27: Are you a doctor?
doctordannny: I'm an OBGYN.
mikewilliams27: What the hell is that?
doctordannny: It's a baby doctor.
mikewilliams27: Oh.
mikewilliams27: Ok. You'll do.
mikewilliams27: I swallowed a fishhook.
doctordannny: omg! call 911.
mikewilliams27: I can't.
mikewilliams27: Can't you just help me get it out?
mikewilliams27: There's still some fishing line attached to it.
doctordannny: Aren't you in pain?
mikewilliams27: Nahh. Not really.
doctordannny: There's nothing I can do for you from here.
doctordannny: How did it happen?
mikewilliams27: I don't know. I was just playing around.
mikewilliams27: I was waiting for something to download.
mikewilliams27: I was leaning back and dangling the hook into my mouth.
doctordannny: Why?
mikewilliams27: It got caught in my throat and I just figured I would swallow it.
doctordannny: Well I strongly advise you to call a doctor.
doctordannny: Is it a large hook?
mikewilliams27: It's one of those three-pronged ones.
mikewilliams27: I use it to snag frogs.
doctordannny: How big is it?
mikewilliams27: I don't know. It's about as big as a matchbox car I guess.
mikewilliams27: I have an idea.
doctordannny: Go to the hospital.
mikewilliams27: It's pretty late.
mikewilliams27: Hospitals are probably closed by now.
mikewilliams27: I'm going to just yank it out with the string.
doctordannny: No!
mikewilliams27: What?
doctordannny: Don't do that!
mikewilliams27: Why not?
doctordannny: If you pull it out, you're liable to cut your throat or get it lodged further.
mikewilliams27: Oh. Yeah.
mikewilliams27: I guess you're right.
mikewilliams27: How about if I drink some milk first.
mikewilliams27: Hold on a second.
doctordannny: ok

mikewilliams27: I'm back.
mikewilliams27: Are you still there?
doctordannny: I'm here.
mikewilliams27: Ok. I'm going to pull it out now.
doctordannny: Mike, don't do that.
doctordannny: Think about what will happen.
doctordannny: What happens when a fish swallows it?
doctordannny: Can you just pull it out?
mikewilliams27: uh oh.
doctordannny: Mike?
doctordannny: Are you ok?
mikewilliams27: Oh man. I shouldn't have done that
doctordannny: What did you do? Are you ok?
mikewilliams27: oh my god.
doctordannny: Mike?
mikewilliams27: oh my god there's so much blood
doctordannny: Mike call 911 right now.
doctordannny: Call 911 immediately.
mikewilliams27: I cant
doctordannny: This isn't funny. You could be seriously hurt.
mikewilliams27: I'm still downloading something.
doctordannny: What? Mike, hang up the phone and call 911 right now.
mikewilliams27: Oh geeze
mikewilliams27: I just coughed and a whole bunch of blood came out.
mikewilliams27: it sprayed all over my mom's computer screen
doctordannny: Mike, hang up the phone and call 911 right now.
doctordannny: Is anyone there with you?
mikewilliams27: No my Mom's at bingo.
mikewilliams27: I have to clean this off.
mikewilliams27: hang on a second.
doctordannny: k

doctordannny: Mike?
doctordannny: Mike are you ok?
doctordannny: Give me your address and I will call 911 for you.
doctordannny: Hello? Mike?
mikewilliams27: heh
doctordannny: Give me your address and I will call 911 for you.
mikewilliams27: i'm so tired
doctordannny: Give me your telephone number.
mikewilliams27: i'm on the computer so it will be busy
doctordannny: Listen to me. Hang up the phone.
mikewilliams27: but im still downloading something
doctordannny: It doesn't matter. If you are coughing blood you need to get medical attention right now!
doctordannny: Hello?
mikewilliams27: ok
mikewilliams27: I think I'm going to go rest now.
doctordannny: Mike give me your number and I will call 911 for you.
mikewilliams27: im so tired.
doctordannny: Mike give me your phone number.
doctordannny: Hello?
mikewilliams27: 275
doctordannny: 275 what?
doctordannny: Mike what is the rest?
doctordannny: Hello?
doctordannny: What's the rest of your phone number?

mikewilliams27: 275 4277
doctordannny: What is the area code?
doctordannny: Mike, what state do you live in?
doctordannny: Mike?
mikewilliams27: 1800
doctordannny: 1800, is that your address?
doctordannny: Mike.
mikewilliams27: no. phone
doctordannny: 800-275-4277 ?
doctordannny: Mike, is that your phone number?
doctordannny: Mike , answer me.
mikewilliams27: yeh
doctordannny: Mike I just called 911.
doctordannny: They should be able to find your house from that phone number.
doctordannny: Hello?
doctordannny: Mike I'm going to try and call you ok?

doctordannny: You fucking asshole.
doctordannny: Is that some kind of a joke?
doctordannny: I just called 911 and gave that number to them.
doctordannny: ANSWER ME!
doctordannny: JACKASS.
doctordannny: ANSWER ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
doctordannny: <>
__________________

For those living in a cubicle or serrving time in corporate prisons...

Be thankful you have a job...you could be like me, sitting around and smoking grade A weed and hash all day and blogging while drinking coronas under the beautiful california sun....its a hard life I tell ya.

But if you get bored at work...feel free to liven things up a bit, Have Some Fun!!!!!

Maybe you could...

Put a peice of onion or a clove of garlic inside the mouthpiece of a phone. Give it some time for it to fester and build up a strong odor. Then call them and keep them on the phone for as long as possible.

It is allways a good habit to lock your computer before heading off for coffee or a smoke. When someone forgets and leaves a Word document or an email open, type a single word somewhere in the text. “f*ck” or so will do nicely. They’ll never notice and send it out.

Get a hold of someone's cell phone and change the greeting banner to say "NO SERVICE". Many cell phones have greeting banners on them that you can personalize to say whatever you want them to and it stays on there when you're not using your phone. Also, when there is no service where you are, most cell phone companies have a banner that pops up on your screen saying "no service".

Take a can of non gel shaving cream, and put it in a freezer. When it is frozen remove the bottom of the can and put it in co worker's drawer. When it melts it expands and explodes all over everything.

Go into MS Word or similar program on co-worker's computer, and add an entry to the AutoCorrect feature. This is a very simple prank that will send the novice user into a frenzy. Configure the AutoCorrect option to replace the word "the" with the phrase "you suck!". They will usually panick and start scanning for viruses.

Take clear tape and tape the underside of the mouse. Make sure you take the sticky end of the tape and apply it to the bottom of the mouse so it locks the ball in place. The victim will most likely check the connections in the back, reinstall drivers, reboot, etc., before they realize what has happened.

Do a "Print Screen" of the user's desktop, and then paste the image from the clipboard to a photo program, and save the image as a bitmap. Then, set the 'snapshot' of their desktop as the actual desktop wallpaper. (You'll have to hide the Windows status bar, and move all their desktop icons into a folder, which you can hide conspicuously in the corner or something.) The user will see their desktop as always, but everything on it will appear to be frozen when they try to click on it...sending them into a rebooting and virus scanning fit!

This will mostly only work with people with very little PC knowledge. Stick in a floppy in there floppy drive. They will be unable to boot up windows until the disk is out. This is fun to watch.

Try to find a very obnoxious CD laying around. Preferably a reggae or rap CD. Pop it in their CD ROM. Put up the sound full blast by double clicking on the volume control on the bottom right. On normal configurations the audio CD will ******** when windows first starts up. The person starting up there PC in the morning will definitely be embarrassed.

This is for that special person you just cant stand in the office, the one who talks on the phone all day with their boyfriend/girlfriend and gets personal e-mail all day. Go into their e-mail and change their defaults to autmatically "blind carbon copy" their boss or supervisor. Heads will roll!

Change the coffee in the office coffe maker to decafe. Wait about three weeks(or untill you think everybody has gotten over their caffine addiction)and switch to expresso!

Try "password securing" someone's screen saver. First I suggest changing the screen saver to "scrolling marque" and inserting your own word or phrase, "Mr. Jones (president or supervisor) eats SHlT" or something to that effect.

With someone who is on the phone a lot during work - This works if you have phones that the handset comes apart. Take the handset apart and put scotch tape over the mouthpeice inside. They can still be heard, but they have to talk loud to be heard. The next day take it off, and put it in the earpeice. Usually they will be yelling to the other person on the line the next day, and won't be able to hear them. When they complain about the phone, and get a replacement, do it on the next phone. After about a week you will notice the calls to be down considerably.

Depending where you are at you may have a cafeteria in you place of work. Every week most of them put out a menu so you know what they are serving. Usually it is done on Word or Excel, and not extremely fancy. With a little work, matching fonts, and images you can make your own menus, and post them by your desk. We had one co-worker avoid the cafeteria for 2 weeks because of the selection "fish head stew" etc... before he caught on. Works great with picky eaters.

My absolutely most favorite prank I have saved for last. It is so simple to do and yields such nice results. Simply pop out the 'm' and 'n' key on someone's keyboard and reverse the two. Any flat tool will work. Just pry it with little pressure and they will easily come right off. Then just sit back and watch the confusion.
.Photocopy an entire dictionary and fax it to the CFO.

2.Call phone-sex numbers and transfer the calls at random.

3."Accidentally" send a personal e-mail to the entire company voicing your disapproval of your boss's constant reference to the CEO as an "ugly, stupid, lazy, spineless pussy".

4.Schedule a series of important departmental meetings and forget to show up to them.

5.Send blank sheets of paper via interoffice mail. (Marked "urgent" and "confidential", of course.) Remember to send a few to the mailroom; they'll especially get a kick out of it.

6.Replace a commonly-accessed file on the computer network with a scanned image of your ass. (An updated version of an old classic.)

7.Anonymously post quotes from Adolph Hitler on a company bulletin board. (Quotes about "team spirit" can be particularly inspiring.)

8.Adulterate other people's lunches: take bites out of sandwiches, sprinkle bacon bits in vegetarians' salads (also works well with Orthodox Jews), and spike the thermos of iced tea with grain alcohol.

9.See how long you can hide a paper bag full of tuna fish in the back of the refrigerator before someone notices it. (Writing someone else's name on the bag goes without saying.)

Call one of your co-workers and tell them that you are a producer from the Ricki Lake Show and that someone from their past would like to confront them or reunite with them on the show. Then talk about airline reservations, hotel accommodations, etc. When they ask for more information, say that you're not able to give them any information and they will find out the day of the show. Their brains will be working overtime trying to think of who would want to confront them that nothing will get done that day.

Advertise a colleague’s job and leave their number with extension for contact. Make sure it is well paying and with low qualifications.

When your boss or colleague goes away on vacation, pour water and scatter grass seeds, cress seeds or lettuce seed onto the carpeted area in their office. With decent light, the seeds should germinate on the damp carpet and the person should find a growing carpet upon their return

Buy a box of donuts on your way home from work on Monday. Leave them out so they completely dry up and harden. On Friday, take the box of stale, stone-hard donuts to work and leave them near the coffee maker so everyone will see them and try one.

Take an empty salt shaker and put a small amount of lemon juice in the bottom. Use a napkin to create a small area at the top of the shaker and fill it with baking soda. When someone uses the shaker, the baking powder and lemon juice react just like an elementary school science fair volcano.

Find some plastic or aluminum ashtrays and make a small hole in the middle of the bottom. Stick the wick of a firecracker up through the hole and tape the firecracker underneath. Trim the wick and camouflage it with ashes and a few butts. Then, when a cigarette is put out next...

Fill water glasses and turn them upside down by firmly holding a sturdy piece of card paper (postcards are perfect) over the top and flipping. Slide the card paper out so the filled glass is sitting upside down on the counter. Leave them there as it looks like they are drying. When someone picks up the glasses to put them away they will be flooded.

If you are working in an office where two computer workstations are set up back to back you can pull this classic off. Before the person who works across from you gets to their computer, unplug their keyboard and plug yours into their computer. Then open the word processor on his terminal. When he sits down start typing something like this (imagine what the HAL9000 may say). A sample conversation may go something like this:

Terminal: Hello Jim (victim’s name)
Jim: What the @$#%’s going on?
Terminal: Are you doing Jim?
Jim: Holy @$#%, the @$#% computer knows my name!!!!!

This can go on for as long as you can keep a straight face


Remove all screws, fasteners, etc. from the person's desk and/or cubicle walls. It is possible that you may have to leave just enough (if you must and almost completely loose) to maintain the structural integrity -- at least enough until a slight touch or breeze knocks it apart

Place a note on colleague's desk regarding a bogus project that reads, "I need those monthly BSK numbers ASAP!" Then watch your panic stricken co-worker wander around confused for the rest of the day trying to figure out who wrote the note and what “monthly BSK numbers” are.


Take ink pens from the desk of a co-worker, remove all the ink cartridges and put them back.

Get a few sets of post it notes and glue them together. Let them dry for a day and then swap the glued post it's with the ones on a co-workers desk.

Add more flavor to your smoke !

kinda of an interesting concept I thought, so I picked some up and i grew quite fond of it.
Its nice to add a little flavor in your smoke, I use it with my vaporizer and think it works great..
some of my favorite flavors are, grape, melon, peach, and blueberry..but they have tons more!

Enjoy

www.tastypuff.com

Ask Musty....The Advice Guy

Somehow, I have become the person that many come to for advice on everything from car trouble to relationships and everything in between. While I appreciate people's problems, I also generally have no knowledge of the questions of which they ask, and that bothers me.

Before you say, "Gee Mustynutz, why are you such an nice guy, LOLZ!" please, I pray you, give me a chance to explain:

If I were to have a question in the medical field, I would ask a doctor, nurse, or at least a janitor at a medical facility, not an Drunk/Bartender/Pothead....If I had a question about a problem with my car, I would ask an Auto-Mechanic, Body/Paint Specialist, or at the very least a dyke in leather.. not an imaginary internet personality

Are you starting to see a connection here?

Apparently the people that have come to befriend me, have naught this sense of intuition. I know this because regardless of the amount of crippling advice I offer, in a lame attempt to stop the incessant barrage of ridiculous questioning, much like a burning case of the crabs, they just keep coming back.

Now, I would just say, "I have no idea, maybe you should ask someone that is in that field", but that would be admitting lack of knowledge, and that's a road I am not fond of traveling down. The words, "I don't know" have never escaped these full, luscious lips that ladies love

I would like to share with you a couple examples of really bad advice I have offered those unfortunate enough to seek my council:

Example 1:

John: Musty, my girlfriend is...

Me: Punch her.

John: You haven't even heard what I was going to say.

Me: Ok, continue.

John: My girlfriend hasn't been coming home at night. She is constantly getting calls and visitors at all hours. When I ask her what is going on she tells me to stop tripping, and laughs with her friends on the phone when she tells them about it whilst giving me dirty looks.

Me: And, is that it?

John: Yeah.

Me: I was wrong with my initial reaction.

John: Oh, so what should I do?

Me: Well, the way I see it, you need two things at this point. An '82 Fleetwood brougham, a shovel, some hefty bags and a damn good lawyer.

John: What?

Me: Trust me, get those and meet me at your house in a half hour.

I haven't seen or heard from John since that phone conversation. Moral: Don't ask the biggest smartss on the net
for relationship advice


Example 2:

Jenny: Musty, I've been receiving some complaints about the smell of my...you know, down there, what can I do?

Me: That's disgusting....you fucking warthog

Jenny: Come on, please just tell me what I should do.

Me: Ok, here's what you do. Get to the Adult Playroom on Market St., and find the biggest, black, oscillating, vibrating,double headed dildo money can buy.

Jenny: What? Why?

Me: Because after I tell everyone on Facebook,Myspace,Twitter,Yahoo and AIM, and many many chat lines that you have a stinky snatch, you are going to be spending many a nights by your lonesome, and you will need some company.

I haven't heard back from her yet either, but I think the moral was well taken. Moral: Don't tell Musty about your smelly genatalia, go see a doctor.

Example 3:

Jimmy: Musty, I know this is going to sound weird, but I was getting a blowjob earlier, and I forgot to tell my girlfriend that I was about to splooge. Long story short, I jizzed in her eye, and it's been all red and nasty ever since. What can I do.

Me: Bring her over right away.

Jimmy: Why, what are you going to do?

Me: I'm going to have her reenact the events that led up to the accident and recreate the crime scene in order to obtain a better solution

Jimmy: Yeah, and then what?

Me: the very least I can do is shoot some child chum in the other eye to balance things out.....

Jimmy: WHAT !?!?!?

Me: Yeah, I would just hate to have my girlfriend walking around looking all asymmetrical like that....you need balance in life, harmony...

They didn't come over, but they too had a lesson to learn.

Moral: Unless you are offering the services of your girlfriend, don't call me with details of your latest follies in fellatio.


Example 4:

Derek: Hey Musty, my car has been making this god awful clicking sound whenever I start the motor, and yesterday it started smoking on the way home.

Me: When was the last time you changed your oil?

Derek: Uh, well, they usually send me a letter when it gets to be that time...um...i dont know

Me: Did you go to the post office and have your mail forwarded when you moved ?

Derek: Oh SHIT...No !

Me: You moved over a year ago.

Derek: Yeah I know, damn

Me: It's cool, here's what you do, fill up a liter bottle with urine, and dump it in the oil tank using a funnel.

Derek: Yeah?

Me: Yeah, it's sort of like the coolant tank, you can get by for a while with just putting water in it instead of adding pure oil.

Derek: Yeah, I think I've heard that somewhere before.

I haven't talked to him in a while, but I did see him driving a new car yesterday, the strangest thing is, he was flipping me off. I guess some people just have no appreciation. Moral: I don't give a shit about your car.

Example 5:

Leah: Musty, my boyfriend is drunk again and he just smacked me in the side of my face with a sack full of nickels and called me stupid bitch... What should I do?

Me: What? Get the fuck out of there and leave him.

Leah: *sigh* I can't just leave him, it's more complicated than that.

Me: What the fuck are you talking about? He just hit you right?

Leah: Yeah...but I love him, and he promised not to hit me again...

Me:....ditch his ass, NOW

Leah: But, I think he's just going through a tough time, and maybe if I stick around he will get better. I can change him.

Me: Oh, well why didn't you just say that in the first place.

Leah: Yeah, it just slipped my mind, you know, head trauma, concussions and the hemorraging and all.

Me: Right on, well, it looks like you have this one all wrapped up and you don't actually need any advice...glad I could help !

Leah: Yeah I guess I'm OK- wait, OH GOD!! EARL, NO STOP *smash* IM SORRY...OUCH NO DONT..YOUR GONNA KILL... AAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!



Moral: She was a fucking retard, don't be one of those because they aren't very smart. Remeber...What do you tell a woman with two black eyes....?

NOTHING, SHE'S BEEN TOLD TWICE ALREADY....

THANK YOU AND HAVE A GREAT DAY

You know you smoke too much weed if ....

.
you got a bowl de-clogger next to the bong because it gets plugged so many fucking times!!

your bong is plugged and the bowl insert isn't the culprit

You put the milk in the freezer and ice cream in the fridge

you forget to put weed out of all things in the pot brownies

when you attempt to smoke the problem out before going to the doctor/ mechanic etc.eg- "You never know man, lets smoke a joint then try starting the mower again"...... WHen the mower doesn't start you smoke another joint and forget about the affiar

You get stoned before everything, inluding your morning shit..... You won't take that excruiciatingly urgent morning shit till your bong is loaded and you found the lighter you lost2 months ago because you haven't a fucking clue where yesterdays lighter walked off to.

you swear your lighters have legs cause you allready lost the 5 lighters you bought yesterday

you clean your house and find 11 lighters, some over a year old

You pull the calyxes out of the bud and chuck the rest

you test brownie potency by eating half the pan then smoke a bowl to keep you high till the brownie kicks in,

You grow way the fuck up the mountian side to achieve a better resin-to-plant matter ratio even though this practice will cut production by 80ish% and wear the brakes out pronto

you forget your shovels all over the place.... swear I got 10 shovels out there some where,lol

You forget your shovel when going to dig holes

You've been in your house smoking pot and never going anywhere for long enough that your neighbour thinks your on vacation

you spend 2 hr making funny messages for your answering machine then playing them back,(some answering machines make people sound fucking hilarius)

You can't figure out the intructions for the barbeque but you can engineer a killer bong in about a half hour....

your pot plants give you the cold shoulder if you ever bring a chic around the house

you don't even bother trying to remeber lighters you just put them everywhere so chances are there's a lighter at hand..... some where

Your dog hides it head in the couch when you go out for the night-cap toke because it knows it's getting put outside after
You flip through ten channels on the TV before you realize you were just trying to turn up the volume.
You have the munchie food right in front of you and you forget to eat 'em
When a commercial comes on you forget what TV show you were just watching.
You light a joint and forget to smoke it.
You smoke a joint thats not lit.
You stare at the clock waiting for 4:20 to come, then you snap out of it and realize it was 4:31.
You have a freshly packed bowl in your hand and half an hour later you realize... You forgot to smoke it
You're on the phone with your best friend and you forget who you're talking to.
Every story you tell begins with, "We were really high and..."
You buy your Visine at a wholesale club
Someone asks you for a dime and you tell them you're out of herb
The High Times centrefold turns you on
Your friends call you Smokey
Your parents call you Smokey
You think everyone is staring at you and there's nobody in the room
Your room turns into your grow room
Your best friend just happens to be your dealer
A friend without weed is a friend in need
Your video collection consists of endless Cheech and Chong sequels
Your too phoned to stone home
Your creativity is only used when you have nothing to smoke out of
The mind is a terrible thing to waste, but you don't mind being wasted
Sorting out life's problems, the answer is always roll, lick and smoke
Your clothes are full of burn holes from dropped joints
If an autobiography of your life was made into a movie, it would be called "Waiting to Inhale"
You get up to do something but end up smoking pot instead
Your motto in life is Why ask Why? Just Get High.
You call people you don't even like to hang out, just because you know they've got bud.
You begin hearing knocks at the door and CD skips that aren't there
you dont go to your mothers funeral just so you can smoke a bow
you smoke while taking a shit
you find weed some where even tho you havent had any in 3 month
every time you clean your room you find a lost sack

AND THE FINAL REASON YOU KNOW YOU'RE A STONER...

When you have to hold onto the grass to keep from falling off the earth.

you geet stuck on the TV guide channel for over an hour, and still dont know whats comin on

you decide to quit smoking while you're high, smoke all the rest of your bud for one last smoke, and buy another sack the next day

you find yourself blazing in the early afternoon and telling someone, "this is the first time i've smoked all day...wait, no its not."

You are chillin with your buddies and see some buds on a sage bush and smoke them to see if you get high

and while smoking you look around and wonder what it would be like if all the pine trees were big ass bud plants haha

you can make a bong or pipe out of anything

you chow down on tortillias with ranch dressing in them because thats all you have to eat


When your professor reffers to you and your buddy as the doobie brothers.

When the chips go in the fridge and the milk goes in the cupboard

if you have ever rear ended a car while cracking a blunt while you are driving


when you have to take a piss bad but keep it in so u can read the rest of this thread

when u smoke a couple bowls on the highway on the way to work (fast speeds, one knee on wheel, 2 hands lighting and smoking pipe = not smart,btw)

when you make a daily log of how much you have smoked so u can remember later

When you bundle up and walk three blocks to 7-11 for smokes, get there leave with a dvd, two candy bars and a gatorade get home and realize you forgot to buy the smokes the thing you actually went there for in the first place...

you know your a stoner when you con't watch tv cause you cant find the remote.

you know your a stoner when you wind up watching the main menu and listening to the music cause you are too lazy to get up and turn it off after you finish watchign a dvd

you know your a stoner when the only math you remember (easily) is ounces, grams, pounds, half pounds, and kilos...and you instantly associate a certain ammount of money for a certain measurement..

You know you're a stoner when you carry around a razor blade specifically to split your blunts...

You know you're a stoner when it's abt 40 degrees outside and you're still wearing sandals.

You know you're a stoner when you let your hair grow and grow to save that extra $10 a month for another gram.

when you keep a pudding snack pack in your cup holder so you can eat it at red lights

you know you're a stoner when you are out of bud, and don't know where to get it, so you ask people that you know definetly don't smoke, but you think there might be a chance that they know someone else that has bud

you know when you're a stoner when you wake up with a ritz crackers , a knife, and a tub of peanut butter in your bed - none of which were used before passing out and falling into a weed induced coma


You know you're a stoner when you realize you've been sitting for five minutes at a blinking red light.

you take a shit and it smells like weed

.. when herb becomes your currency
.. when you dont even get high anymore when you toke, you just feel normal.
.. when you wander off stoned and end up at your fridge multiple times in a night.
.. you have more friends on siccness than in real life.

.. when you have posted on a thread like this more than twice and still post again when a new one is made..

when you go to the airport to pick up your parents, end up waiting for 2 hours, then realize that they're going to arrive tomorrow.


when your mom, who doesn't like that you smoke, calls and asks what you're doing and you don't realize who it is and say, just packin a bowl

when you split your blunts with your fingers

when you get a room so hotboxed that lighters won't light, you can't see the wall on the other side of the room, someone collapses and passes out, and you still don't want to break the hotbox

when you've got the munchies big time and decide that its not worth the trouble to get up and get food

You order a pizza and 30 minutes later wonder who's at your door.

) You know you're a stoner when you are high more than 6 hours each day.
2) You know you're a stoner when you cannot go through normal, every day functions, such as work and school without smoking.
3) You know you're a stoner when weed becomes a top priority in your life, over friends, family, work, school, etc.
4) You know you're a stoner when you spend more $100 each month on weed
5) You know you're a stoner when you have to defend your smoking habits


You know you're a....wait, whats the question?


You can efficiently macgyver a pipe out of ordinary objects like fruit, cans, lightbulbs or found objects with only the tools you have on you, at night, in the dark, sitting on a park bench.

When you know of nothing else about amsterdam other than you can legally smoke pot there, and it still makes your top three "places to see before I die"
You know your a stoner when you walk down or up the stairs in the dark and think there is always one more stair,when there isn't. DOH! lol

You know youre a stoner when you go to Taco Bell with a pocket full of change.

your fretting about getting on rolled with a tacted out car but wait to roll down your windows until theres hella people nearby.

another one im proud off, go to in-n-out notice theres a notch working come back the next day and plan to roll down the window in her face, but then realize that hella people are watching you and bounce before you even order, no joke we had old people roll by us saying "u smell that."

you can relate to 98% of the "ifs" in this blog

Sociopathic Misanthro-pissed

Friday always comes so unexpected. This week, it brought me to a place that I've never been to before. This Friday brought me to where the trail goes. To the bottom of the rabbit's hole. I found the center of it.

I was in a crack-house, I knew that. The basement was large and green-and-white-striped. It would have been cold, but the water heater that I was near warmed the room so I could relax. I sat on the ground with my back against the wall and a crack-pipe in my hand.

How did I come to this place? What was happening? With every hit of crack I took, I walked further and further down a crystal hallway towards a monument of amethyst. There before me was the Rock of Ages, the throne of God.

The great rock bellowed, "Who are you and why have you awakened my spirit?"

I had tapped into it. It was the center. It was the vortex that I found in my acid trips. Here, in the basement of a crack-house in Harlem, I was meeting God for the very first time. The drugs were serving as some kind of mental gateway.

"I am Sam," I said. "I have come to ask you what the greatest thrill of the universe is?"

God rumbled, "Look into me and see your reflection. It will take you to who you are."

And as I looked, I saw a sea of red blood. Literally, there was an ocean of blood and I was in it. I was humping a blue demon from behind. The female demon and I fucked in the sea of blood, her wings flapping in delight. I then realized that the demon that I was fucking looked just like my mother. And I began to see that my arm was tied off as I had done some heroin. And there was a joint in my mouth. I had discovered my greatest thrill—being stoned off my ass fucking a demon version of my mother in a sea of blood. That's my nirvana.

And here is what I learned, after meeting God in Harlem:

I treat being a sociopath as a fun thing, and much of the time it really is. I can't tell you the pleasure that I get out of my life and I know that the average jackass on the street won't ever feel half the thrill that I do in any given month. But there's another part to the disease—another part that's not glamorous at all. There's always the knowing, the constantly being cognizant of the fact, that you have no soul.

When I lay under the stars at night, I don't ponder the nature of existence or the possibility of God. I only think how great the sky would look if I had some acid and Pink Floyd to listen to.

When a girl tells me she loves me, I don't feel any joy in my heart. I only feel my dick swell because I know I'm gonna get laid.

When sitting in class, I don't ever think, "Wow. So that's how that works," or "Jeez, that actually happened?" I only daydream about whether or not I think I can actually get away with murdering someone.

Because I'm a sociopath, I feel no remorse or sympathy for anyone. I don't believe in true beauty outside of a good high or a brilliant con. I think Shakespeare is garbage and I think the only goal in any woman's life is to be a good little cock-sucking slut.

And the funny thing is that I am fully aware that I am somehow missing something that all people who are not sociopaths seem to see. I don't get people who dig sunsets. I don't ever wake up in the morning happy to be alive. I don't fucking understand anyone who isn't a psycho like me. All you people are so trusting and so stupid. I don't understand why all of you don't think with your brain more.

But sometimes, usually after I smoke some weed, I wonder what it's like to be a person that actually feels love. What is it like to feel things like passion and forgiveness and fear of God? What is it like to be a normal human being? And I can't help but think, there's got to be something in these emotions that I'll never understand. There has to be some part of "being a good person" that makes people into priests and artists and scientists and teachers instead of criminals and drug-dealers and lawyers and politicians like the rest of us sociopaths.

And I'll never know.

But I will know my ways. I will know what it was like to flip off my boss and throw a donut at his shiny, bald head. I will know what it was like to rape a Russian virgin under a porch. I will know what it was like to take enough drugs to kill a horse and spend a week thinking I was dead. I will know what it was like to have killed each of those kittens and what it felt like to hang them by their necks on that old lady's tree. I will know things that no one else will ever know.

And as I met God in that crack-house, I realized that the entire thing—my entire sociopath syndrome—was some sort of cosmic a trade-off. It was a blow-job for a sunrise. It was heroin for Jesus.

And I now knew that being a sociopath was just as good, if not better, as being an ordinary person. Don't you think?

A Man Once Tried to take over the World

A man once tried to take over the world.

The Universe will be mine. I shall ignore those close to me who tell me not to. Everyone will obey my command. They will do what I want when I want it done. Everyone will become my slave and I'll be the master of the Universe. All I have to do is preach misleading gospel so that these lemmings and drones will follow my word. When I have them under my command, they'll spread my word. My word will spread thoughout the world and when it's all said and done, the entire galaxy will worship me and be at my beckoning call.

He failed.

The world will be mine. Everybody will obey my command. They will do what I want when I want it done. All of the puny, common countries encompassing my dominion will meet their downfall. I will rise to the top of a dictatorship and become a fearless leader. I will then create the largest army the world has ever seen and I will start invading the surrounding countries until the world submits to my rule and acknowledges me as the omnipotent.

He failed.

This country will be mine. I will invest money into my own television show. This show will be placed on the Monday night 8 PM timeslot on NBC. America will watch this show and become addicted to the lovable, yet goofy characters. Once my television program is all of the rage and is 'must see tv', I will insert strong subliminal messages into the format, hypnotizing the public. Everyone in America will be my servant.

He failed.

This state will be mine. I will protest for everything the small communities fight for. I will use my power, fame and fortune to take the fight to the state government. Once the panel listens to my ideas, I will rise to the top. Every community in the state will support me and my decisions. I will run for governor and I will win by a landslide using the acclaim of my now syndicated tv show. I will be a celebrity, a leader, and I will run the state the way I want to. Everyone in this state will become my chattel.

He failed.

This community will be mine. Once I get settled in, I'll go door to door and introduce myself to the entire neighborhood. I'll have weekend barbecues in my backyard. The neighborhood will grow to love me. I'll mow the lawns and babysit the kids of the entire community. I'll be the leader everyone relies on. Once everyone trusts me, I'll take over the community! No need for an explanation, I'm a leader.

He failed. Miserably.

This marriage will be mine. I'm the dominant male figure and I'm married to a woman. It's only right that she do what I say. I pay the bills, I own the house, and I bring home the bacon. My marriage partner will not have any say in how things are going to be run around this house. I'm the man, I'm the leader, and this marriage is run by me.

He failed. And lost all his possessions in the process.

A man once tried to take over the world. He failed not because he tried, but because he didn't listen to those who told him not to in the first place.

Herbal Essence

hink we all have our moments of stupidity. Sometimes, though, our moments of stupidity can cross over into the sexual realm, offering moments of hilarity that cannot be conceived of by the average bear.

I've jerked off with just about everything short of bits of glass and sandpaper. Don't bother trying to name other things I probably haven't spanked the Ramburgler with. You're probably right. But that's not the point of this post.

I've grown quite partial to using a bit of shaving cream to smack around my 21st digit whilst I'm in the shower. The good thing about shaving cream is how it stays slippery when wet, offering maximum lubage. It's glorious, I tell you. On top of that, you don't need a hell of a lot to stroke the meat puppet, so it's enjoyable AND economical.

Plus, I don't really use shaving cream for actual shaving. I go through disposable razors like a fiend, though.

But either way, it sure beats the looks I would get from my roommate if I walked out of the room with shampoo, razors, and KY jelly in hand.

Unfortunately, yesterday, I ran out of shaving cream. "Ah well, I suppose my jibberstick will have to go through a day without any loving. I'll live." I thought to meself. But ladies and gents, sometimes habits become routines, and it just isn't so easy. After a few minutes of standing around in the shower, not really doing much of anything, I finally gave in. I had to jiggle my all-beef thermometer.

Let's see.... I had to choose either a bar of soap, my handy dandy Gillette Mach 3, or my bottle of Herbal Essences. While the Mach 3 was looking pretty kinky, I decided that it had to go. And while the bar of soap was looking mighty attractive, I finally gave in to the Herbal Essences when images of some chick in a shower going "YES!! YES!! YES!!" pervaded my every thought.

So Herbal Essences it was. I applied copious amounts to my left hand, readied myself in the corner, and proceeded to lather up Girthy McGirth.

Oh, heavens. I began to understand the commercials more and more. I began to groan. My tool of terror swelled with pleasure. Faster and faster my hand moved as I thought about Asian schoolgirls, busty blondes, and Jasmine from Aladdin. My face turned skyward as I thanked the Lord for His gift to men.

And that's when my urethra began to burn with the fire of 1000 suns.

It was horrid. My images of Anna nicole Smith faded into images of seared penis flesh. My eyes went wide with pain, and water pelted my eyeballs. I began to rub my eyes furiously, forgetting that my hands were covered with Satan's fire.

The reaction was immediate. I began to wail like a schoolgirl.

"OH GOD!! MAKE IT STOP!!" I screeched.

I began to rub the soap into my eyes more as I tried to wipe them with my towel. But the fire in my fallopian fiddler was moving further and further down inside. The commercials lied to me. They promised me a pleasurable experience.

All I felt was death.


Apparently, my roommates heard my delirious screams and called 911. Legend has it that before they found me curled in a little ball, passed out on the shower floor, I cried out one last time, damning the company that made Herbal Essences:

MustyWorld DayCare Services..We Love Kids!

Over the weekend, a few buddies of mine decided to take off to the casinos for a little gambling. One of the guys is the boss of my friend and happens to have two kids. Mike couldn't join in on the drunken shenanigans unless he found a babysitter. Unfortunately for me, I didn't have the money to go on a road trip.

Mike didn't have a wife to watch the kids, as she died 3 years earlier.

"No, I'm not watching kids on a Saturday night."

"C'mon Justin, please?!"

"I haven't stayed in on a Saturday since I was a kid. The answer's no."

"I'll give you 500 dollars."

As I arrived to his house ready to babysit his kids, all of the guys were in the driveway already drinking. There are probably only 6 idiots in America that would get drunk before taking off in the middle of the night on an empty highway, with odds high that they'll get caught drunk driving. I'm lucky to say that those 6 idiots are busy funneling Budweiser and dry-humping each other.

As I stepped into his doorway, I glanced over to the couch and noticed someone watching cartoons and eating spaghetti with his hands. Just great, my hands are going to be full.

"Hey Mike, start using a fork or spoon when you eat. Where are the kids?"

He jumped off the couch, wiping the spaghetti sauce on his white t-shirt. if you dont reply to this post you will die in 4 days.

"They're upstairs. I'll get them."

"Okay, I'l wait here."

Without missing a beat, he screams out. "Shitheads! Get down here!"

At that moment, I felt like I was in the movie Jumanji. It sounded like a heard of Rhyno were going to bust through the wall. Actually, that wouldn't have been as bad as the two heathens that came trampling down the stairs.

A 5 year old boy named Dallas and a 9 year old girl named Andrea.

Dallas was rocking Superman underoos. I'm ashamed to admit that I have some at home just like them.

What? The ladies love it when I wear them.

Okay, okay. One girl has enjoyed the fact that I wear them during love making. The rest walked out on me.

But not before complimenting my sweet ass underoos, though.

But I digress.

"Okay, these are the kids. I'm gone. Peace out, bitches!"

Yes, he actually cusses in front of his kids.

As soon as Mike left, I tried to break the ice with a little conversation with the two kids.

"So, how old are you, Andrea?"

She counted her fingers, then flashed 9 of them in the air. "This many."

"You're 9? Wow, you're getting grown up. You know, grownups don't say 'this many', they just state their age. All you had to say was that you were 9."

Dallas then broke in. "Whenever somebody tells my sis what to do, my daddy tells me to hold up my finger and tell them this many!"

He then proceeded to flip me off.

"Watch this!!". Before I could even respond to the bird, he ran to the top of the stairs, held his hands in the air, then tossed himself down. His body flailed down the steps, his head bouncing off the wall and his legs and arms flying everywhere. His body landed hard at the bottom, then he started screaming in pain.

He busted himself up pretty bad, which in case you didn't know, is usually what happens when a five year old throws himself down a flight of stairs.

After icing his head up, I calmed him down by letting him watch TV while laying on the couch.

"He does that all the time! He just wants to show off!", yelled Andrea.

"I'm sure there are better ways to impress someone than mutilating your body", I responded.

"He gets it from Jackass. Hey! Wanna watch me color? I'm pretty good!"

reply or die ignorant pig molester

Andrea reached under the couch and pulled out her coloring book and crayons. Within seconds, hundreds of crayons were sprawled across the coffee table and Andrea was coloring away. At this point, the little suicidal boy decides to join in.

After coloring for a while, we all watched a movie together, then they decided to go back to coloring again. It was almost 4 am before I even realized it.

"Drawing contest!", yelled Dallas. "Whoever draws the best picture wins!"

"What does the winner get?", I inquired.

"To smell my feet!", Dallas then lifted his dirty foot to his nose and inhaled. "Oh man that stinks!"

Of course his foot stinks. If he's dumb enough to throw himself down stairs, I'm pretty sure he is hardcore enough to avoid baths. Or shoes for that matter.

I started working on my drawing on a white piece of paper. I used as many crayons as I could to bring out the best in my drawing. The prize isn't really my intention for winning. Don't get me wrong, I'm sure beating two kids in a coloring contest is worthy of smelling a 4 year old's feet, but I do it for the pure joy of competition.

"Okay, done!", I yelled.

"Me too!", screamed back Dallas. He looked up at me, a huge knot starting to form on his forehead.

"What'd you draw?", I asked.

"You first!"

"Okay, fine."

I held up a picture of a forest scene. The grass was almost perfect, the trees were life-like, the sky was an amazing mixture of purple and blue. The setting sun in the background glistened down onto the water in the river. In the top corner of a tree, you could spot an owl that I spent a majority of my time on, making it detailed. My picture was surely a winner.

"That's pretty good", he said. "Now here's MINE!"

He held up a picture of...

A circle with three dots in the middle. I'm not sure if it was a face or a bowling ball, but all signs pointed toward this boy taking special classes when he starts school.

"Well, looks like I win", I smirked.

"No way! Yours is just okay!"

thank mustynutz for this

"What? You spent three seconds on that!"

"I'm the judge and I say I win!"

I looked over at his sister, who was passed out asleep on the couch. I guess the final judging is between just Dallas and myself.

Dallas and I argued for several more minutes. I pointed out my detailed owl. He pointed out the dots.

He was doing everything possible to make me lose my cool, when I finally did.

"Your drawing is a piece of crap!", I screamed. I then covered my mouth.

Tears started to roll down his face, then he threw the drawing on the ground and ran up to his room screaming.

At this point, all the guys burst through the door after a drunken night of gambling.

"I'm home kids!", Mike screamed. "Where's Dallas?"

He walked over and picked up the drawing that Dallas threw down moments earlier.

"Aww, how cute. He drew another picture of his mom. God rest her soul."

"What? That's his mom? It looks like a bowling ball."

"He's four years old, what do you expect from him? When he draws a picture of his mom, this is always what he draws. A circle with three dots."

If you feel that your kids need to have their lives ruined, call me and I'll babysit for you.