I wanted to remind you to stay out of my way
In all the years to come, in your most private moments…
…I want you to remember the one man who beat you. - Batman
I wanted to remind you to stay out of my way
In all the years to come, in your most private moments…
…I want you to remember the one man who beat you. - Batman
Someone, who shall remain unnamed, has recently broken into the world of cock fiddling and sexfooleries runs rampant with her blonde vanity and emotional vandalism. This fellatious woman goes on to admit, “.. these days I simply want the D.”
She is exposed to the world of questionable fellatio for a mere 2-3 months and claims unparalleled expertise in “drawing conclusions” and kinkasutra. She even suggests that I try blindfolds with a bra in my bedroom acrobatics, which offends me, because she assumes I sleep with girls whose bras are flat enough to double as blindfolds.
Her limitless braggadocio goes as far as to assert her mate has unmatched virility, but suspiciously falls asleep within seconds of aforementioned fellatio. This dubious behavior of the dick-owner may seem odd to some, but it gets odder when she claims that as soon as he recovers from his slumber of shame, she fellates away his consciousness again, along with his dignity. This act, supposedly, fills him with enough joy to suck on her menstrual fluids.. WHAT!? Because “I love you.” And she let’s him, because…
Preceded by an S and T
“DUDE! That’s an unnatural amount of private information! How did you come across it? OKAY! Maybe you were trusted with it, but why share?”
1. This information has scared me for life. I can no longer talk to this person without having a constant mental image like this:
Till death drip us apart.
2. I have repeatedly asked her not to share her bedroom life with me & avoid embarking on the topic with as much effort humanly possible. But she ineffectivates it with lines like, “I won’t tell you what happened after I gave him a blowjob” by which point my brain has lost enough cell-soldiers who never saw it coming. I frequently train my brain in the ways of contingency combat, but such unsolicited knowledge of vagina vampires makes me want to summon the devil to trade coma for my soul (whatever is left of it by then).
3. Jokes! It’s fair to say I am somewhat familiar to the world of blowjobs.
But my gifts of unputdownable vigor and daunting machismo encourage me to prepare for round two with admirable speed and no naps in between. This guy sleeps, hence passing the pussy test.
Just in case you don’t get it, dear fellatious female, here is the hint: As soon as there is prospect of you using that mouth to talk, he chooses sleep.
You mean a lot to me.
I have no intentions of ruining your prosperous erectionship with him. After all you two are soul mates under 4 dates - I can’t help saying things like that because I know an unhealthy lot about you and my nightmares have become frequent. Even if I don’t complain, my neighbors do, about my midnight shrieks.
It would be incredibly normal of you to not share your bedroom kinks with me in future, which I am ensuring by jeopardizing all of our friendship with this article. This is what a drawn line looks like.
Because this is what my permanent expression looks like.
Today, on International Women’s Day, the world celebrates the glorious existence of women because feeling special about the special feeling of feeling special is the true spirit of womanhood. Confused? Welcome to Women’s Day.
Relaxing with friends after a stressful week of shopping.
Women clearly play a vital role in society by existing and feeling special. On this day of justified jubilation, I am embarrassed to admit that until last year, I was a sexist. :(
I would routinely treat women with undeserved condescension and make awful remarks like, “You can drive when kitchens have wheels,” & “No penis, no opinions.” Such outlook has prevented contingent road hazards and women from talking around me for years, which is sad. Who doesn’t want to hear women talk? Or drive? Or both, simultaneously?
It was not until last year the true extent of this sadness dawned on me, when a friend lashed back with harsh words of feminist contempt because calling it ‘International Genderal Minority Day’ was wrong. I have repented that day & the unfollow has taught me a valuable lesson.
Over time, I have learnt that Women’s Day is not a celebration of golddigging, scheming and persistent dissatisfaction in everything, but in the words of Wiki, “a celebration for women’s economic, political and social achievements.”
I have brought drastic changes in my attitude towards women and try my best to be a feminist and not just an egalitarian because being a feminist
increases your chances of getting laid is the least I can do for the years of shameful behavior I have subjected women to.
Happy Women’s Day
I’m also against abortions. Just saying.
For a movie widely advertised as an Emma Watson film, this was disappointingly about a wonk called Charlie whose life consists of facial twitches and loneliness resulting from untimely death of an aunt and his best friend who shot himself, untimely.
Given how he opens his mouth only to talk about feelings, I’d shoot me too - right in the middle of a conversation, just so he gets it. I had to take several breaks in between because of its unique storytelling that’s, both, suffocating and uninspiring.
The movie is a 90’s teen story where actors either mumble or cheer; truly depicting the moods of this story. Some also…
depict the mood of the audience.
It’s a coming of age tale of a people-keep-dying-around-me misfit, who finds other misfits who have embraced their lives through good looks and irritating personalities. One of them is gay and takes Charlie in (snap!). The others are Emma Watson and someone who is already a Buddhist along with other nondescript characters whose only claim to misfitting is not being pretty.
While the gay dude emphasizes his homosexuality with constant cockiness (double snap!), Emma Watson does the Titanic on moving cars if something on the radio pleases her.
Rendering the invention of radio, a success.
In all honesty, I feel Emma is one of those women who looks better with her clothes on. The greater part of this movie goes to assert “We accept the love we think we deserve,” which is a set up for Charlie groping misfit chicks and dating unwillingly; plainly translating that line to ‘when you’re a teen, you grab what you get’. Later, everything turns out well for everyone except Charlie who has a mad rush to kill himself because everything is his fault. But, why? Heck if I know, I slept through this shit.
I hear there is also a critically acclaimed book, which means people had to suffer this on print, explaining how this generation is averse to reading.
As I sat through this demonstration of emotional athletism, questioning the running time of the film, I learnt only one thing because they spelled it out among other clichés, that we can’t save anybody, so just…
As a child I had a dream. But that dream was overshadowed by many other dreams in my forming years. One of my recent dreams was to edit a simple YouTube video of one of my songs because…. I wanted to (no reason holds greater). So I did.
Here is my first video from my first EP: Fact or Fiction.
NO! This blog is not gonna turn into a song page, don’t worry loyal, non existent readers. That is just what I am focused on currently. I will return to writing poor articles with horrible jokes as soon as the EP is out.
Life is unpredictable. Sometimes, you wake up and find yourself in Bhutan.
Looking tremendously macho, but pissed off.
You hate the subnormal hotel you are in so you decide to look outside the window and it’s just perfect
to jump and kill yourself.
You might hire yourself a car to go about the place and see what it has to offer, but all you see is similar aged women and mountains. It’s just mountains everywhere. Seriously. Giant, green naturetits.
After the moment of nature-admiration has passed, you start to look for what the city has to offer. You try to find something like a history museum or a strip club. But all this place really offers you is…
It pisses you off. All that nature-lover crap starts to wear off when you realize you’re trapped in a city surrounded by mountains. You say, “Fuck everything. Fuck this city and fuck you naturetits.” But to fuck naturetits, one might need energy pills (or drinks, maybe). Just then, out of the blue, Bhutan gives you this:
A sexy, questionable energy drink.
Let’s say you buy it and drink it - not that I did. But sometimes people need to pee. I needed to pee at one point. So, I asked the driver if there were any usable toilets around, but they just tell you to go and pee behind the mountains or something. You do it. You go and take a leak behind the mountains just like god intended. But then, they’re like, “Dude! You’ve filled our stony farmland with pee.”
What? I am just proficient among peers.
For the rest of my stay, I took all my leaks behind the mountains just to spite them.
I couldn’t enjoy the trip to Bhutan because the mountain roads nauseate you in the 6 hour drive up the mountains, which sometimes gets prolonged by another 6 hours due to a landslide from all the rain that’s always pouring and pissing everyone off. I had fever and a bad temper all through this trip and spent my time flooding their city.
There I stood, after micturating in the mountains.
Call of Duty
Imagine yourself in a dark, underground cellar with goo dripping off the walls, echoic droplets in contagious silence and rats. Then, you hear a strange groaning and dragging footsteps heading towards you from the directionless darkness… and before you know it, IT’S A ZOMBIE ATTACK! BUT INSTEAD OF ZOMBIES, IT’S LADY GAGA LOOK-ALIKES COMING FOR YOUAAAHHHHHH!
Such was my experience when I visited the book fair this year: lame horror. It began with the first stall where I saw ALL of Chetan Bhagat books published with new covers and subtly incorporated tri colors of our flag and a whole section dedicated to him. It wasn’t even called ‘Indian Writing’, just ‘Chetan Bhagat’. I didn’t let that ruin my fair joy. I swiftly moved to other stalls, only to disappoint myself further. Every stall had the same stupid stacked aplenty. Most disappointing was the stall called ‘Oxford’ which was the highest hoarder of his dying-to-be-Bollywood-scripts. All teens had come to buy exactly those!
Finally, the whole experience soured with a garnish of gay when I came across these:
Superman was always one sexy step away from being gay. And they finally did it.
(Another one, from my previous blog)
Disclaimer: This translation is super-naïve & to the best of my understanding. I do not take responsibility for any emotional wreckage one may suffer.
Jane Austen is best known as the creator of the Looney Tunes show. She tried to take her career elsewhere by writing fake-tearjerkers like Pride & Prejudice, but was horsewhipped by an angry mob & was flooded with ‘fan mails’ reading “Stick to the cartoons, bitch!”. Her books, however, got popular with retarded little girls who feign elegance & believe they will find ‘love’ someday (yes, the ugly loners). You have to be a total dullard and devoid of all self-respect to read this book or watch the movie. It’s every girls favorite.
Never have I read a story that reeks of desperation more than this.
The Bennet family has five daughters. All opportunistic sluts. Wondering where it comes from? Their mother, who is conveniently a pimp.
New neighbors move in town. Correction: New, FILTHY FUCKIN’ RICH neighbors move in town, with all their filthy fuckin’ richness tucked in their butt crack. So, it’s game time for gold diggers aka the Bennet bitches. Rich folks come in a pair of three. Lame-Casual Dude, his Snooty–Bitch sister, & the gasbag, Fitzwilliam Darcy (Imagine living with that name! Fitzwilliam! lol).
In a This-Is-The-Best-We-Have party (see ball), the pimp mom of the Bennet family eagerly waits for LCD (Lame-Casual Dude) to show up. He makes an Everybody-Stop-Dancing-And-Look-At-Me entrance in the ballroom. Pimp Bennet introduces her eldest daughter to LCD. He falls in love with her IMMEDIATELY! Classic! Darcy does not find any woman in the room bang-able. Therefore, he leaves.
Later, Pimp Bennet makes an elaborate scheme to send her eldest daughter to LCD’s crib. Eldest slut falls sick upon reaching LCD’s crib, as planned. Elizabeth, the female protagonist, second to the eldest daughter, comes to visit her sister at LCDs’. However, her intention is much darker. She actually comes to seduce Darcy because he did not find any women at the ball attractive. Even HER! But LCD’s BS (baby sister) keeps distracting Elizabeth by asking her to run laps around the room, because they had no Internet back then, so running around was the coolest thing to do. Darcy admires both ladies on how graceful they look in their miniskirts, to which Elizabeth bemock’s him by saying she wants to put on weight, & Darcy responds “My good opinion once lost, is lost forever.” then winks & sniff’s some cocaine.
The rugged military studs keep visiting the town to hit on maidens. To their surprise, they find the maidens pouncing on them even before they’ve brought out their ace-moves (see how classic this book is). The Bennet daughters had a slutty duo that always competed on who can surpass the other in terms of slutiness. They never missed an opportunity to hit on a Solider. They find one worthy assface called Weak-Ham. Later Elizabeth meets him to judge whether she should have him herself or leave him for her sisters. Ham tells her an overwhelming story about Darcy & his cruelty where Darcy gave him the finger after his father’s death while he should’ve made him a Clergyman (see Laughing Stock). Thus, Elizabeth gets a new conversation starter with Darcy next time she meets him in her Darcy-seducing endeavors. They meet at a High School graduation party hosted by LCD. There, Darcy “wishes” to dance with Elizabeth. She gives in (Duh!). They dance to Elvis’ ‘Hound dog’ track. Next day, Darcy leaves with LCD & his BS!
But you didn’t think Bennets’ were quitters, did you? The eldest daughter sets out with her GPS to find LCD, because she had already bugged him earlier. And Elizabeth goes to a friend’s crib, who married a dude Elizabeth had once dumped because he wasn’t rich or good looking. There she finds Darcy, the dunce, who seems more cordial than before. During Elizabeth’s stay, one day, Darcy decides to confess his love for Elizabeth, to Elizabeth (Oh, didn’t you know? Darcy is in love with Elizabeth now). But suddenly Elizabeth hates Darcy, because she finds out Darcy had influenced LCD to leave town because he didn’t find Elizabeth’s sister hot enough for his friend to get married. So Elizabeth gives Darcy the “Kiss my ass!” attitude. Darcy leaves the same night but leaves a letter for Elizabeth in which he “exposes” Weak-Ham (probablyly, some nude pictures from their childhood).
Then Elizabeth does what women do best – she’s confused! But she’s, most definitely, in love with Darcy, AGAIN! (This story just keeps getting better)
Meanwhile in Gotham city, one of the featherbrain Bennet siblings has eloped with Weak-Ham. Darcy finds them right away, because he’s rich & knows people in high places. Then he uses reverse psychology on her by telling her NOT TO tell Elizabeth about it. She does. As soon as Elizabeth hears it, she has an orgasm. She can’t help herself from admiring Darcy for his “selfless” deed. She now longs to meet him. Darcy the Psychic/Wizard suddenly appears out of thin air with LCD in their living room on the pretext to reunite LCD with the elder hussy. Then gawks at Elizabeth like the ill-bred sleazeball he is. She does the same, because she is a ball of sleaze, as well.
Then they realize they must talk (make love). So Elizabeth walks out to some remote meadow 5000 miles away (she was very fond of walking, you see). Super Darcy flies there too. Then, after a few seconds of cold, sexy stares & non-verbal communication, this happens…
(From my previous blog)
Caution: This article contains coarse language & this translation is for straight up beer guzzling, animal hunting, women’s wrestling enjoying stereotypical-men. So girls can read at their own whim.
Note: If you haven’t read this book already, Don’t - It sucks!
It’s one of those World War II “Let’s not escape while we can, but stay in Germany & complain about Hitler’s inhumane reign” stories. It’s about a young girl, 13 at the time, who kept a “secret” diary, which she referred to as Kitty.
The theme of this yawn-inspiring story is, Hitler is at the top of his game & this crybaby Jewish family has to go into hiding just to stay safe – But later gets caught & they die anyway so, good move Jewish dipshits.
The story is in two parts.
It’s the morning of Anne’s birthday where some asshole had the brilliant idea of giving this airhead a diary, which she totally filled up with juvenile erotica (Popularly called ‘Puppy Love’).
In the beginning, they’re one happy family where Anne has unconditional love for her father & despises her mother completely. She is quite the hip chick at school & every pea-brain wants to bang her & guess what? Like every manipulative bitch of that age (or any age for that matter), she too enjoys that attention to the fullest. Way to go girl!
Hitler is enraged, Jews are about to get their ass kicked, big time. Anne & her family move to confinement in the attic of her father’s office building with another family, who have a 15-year-old dickhead for a son named Peter.
Anne can’t really stand anyone except her father, but later gives him the finger too.
Throughout the story she keeps nagging & complaining about how her life sucks (suck it up bitch!).
Anne’s older sister has hots for this dickwad Peter. Let’s face it, they were gonna be trapped for a long time. Her choices were limited. Somehow, over time, living through all the hardships & semi-nudity, Anne starts to get all hot for this guy too & before you know it, they’re making out. And, being the sweet little girl Anne is, she writes about it to Kitty. There is also a part where she describes her pubescent curiosities from her pre-confinement days which goes something like:
I have tits now. I’m not sure how they work. I’d like to discuss it with one of my girlfriends, but I’m afraid it’ll be frowned upon, but hee-hee, I’ll do it anyway at tonight’s slumber party.
My friend didn’t let me grope her tits. What a bitch!
I guess all I can do now is read more about adulthood from the erotica’s that dad forbids me from reading.
Later, Anne is all over Peter & Peter is all over Anne, literally. Her older sister has turned to ‘miserable bitch’ all thanks to Anne & Anne is secretly happy about it. Finally, Hitler’s Nazi homeboys find the family & take them to military camps where she, her sister & mother die from illness, but somehow her father is the only one who survives.
The actual diary ends abruptly since the family gets caught (bummer), but the publisher gave us more facts on the post capture trauma of Anne’s family because they thought we cared.
Her father came back to the hideout after the war & received this diary from a woman called Miep Gies who had helped shelter this family during their days of incarceration.
Dad reads about his younger daughter’s revelations, sheds some pansy tears & shares this classified info with one of his friends (way to go dad), who gives him the initiative to get it published.