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!"
Monday, May 25, 2009
Thursday, May 14, 2009
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.
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.
__________________
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
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.
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
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.
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.
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