This is a story about an old friend of mine. A friend with huge testicles.
So we were skateboarding at the skate park, and my friend is climbing out of one of the bowls when he feels a pull in his balls area. He's writhing around, he can't even get up at first. So we figure well, better get him to the hospital. So we go to a nearby hospital (the same one I went to when I got a concussion at the same skate park) and get him checked in.
Like I said, this guy has huge balls. His scrotum is like a fist. I know that because apparently when a guy has huge balls and a few drinks in him, he's gonna get them out. Like, all the time. Anyway. They take him in, and this is the story he tells me when he gets out: They had to do some kind of ultrasound or something on his balls, so they had to put this jelly on them. So the nurse did that, and then she left the room, and in a minute, another nurse came in. She said "Let's see what's going on here," and took a peek under the sheet that was over his area. Then she left, and another nurse came in. This one didn't even say anything, just peeked under the sheet and left.
EDIT: This may have been too vague. Pretty sure first nurse went out and said to the other nurses "Holy shit, there's a guy in there with huge balls!"
One time my cousin had a Facebook status that read "Ate Taco Bell and played bass". After that his friend Alan posted a comment that said "I played Taco Bell and ate bass". A story sprung to mind, so I wrote it as a comment and, apparently, saved it to Google Docs where I have just stumbled upon it:
I can imagine how that went!
Here's the scene: a taco bell on a gloomy strip. The sky is overcast, and tired, lonely people fill the stalls. Alan walks in, a suspicious bulge under his dark green trench coat and a pinstripe fedora casting an ominous shadow over his eyes. Nobody takes notice save for a scraggly old man, who quickly hides his suspicion beneath the bulk of his grande enchilada. Alan walks hurriedly to the counter, cutting in line and silencing his fellow customer's protest with an icy glare. Turning to the bewildered cashier, three intense words escape from beneath the fedora: "Are you ready?" Before the cashier could even consider meeting this with a blank stare, Alan's coat is whipped aside to reveal the glorious bass guitar hanging from his shoulders. Leaping onto the counter, he kicks the cash register across the store and screams the only logical finale to his previous sentence. "Are you ready TO ROCK?!"
A glorious golden light fills the restaurant as Alan's fingers fly up and down the neck of his instrument. The ground beneath him catches fire and reverent cheers fill the room as the patrons are treated to the most face-meltingest bass solo ever conceived by mortal men. The atmosphere was such that nobody noticed the challenger until his own masterful melody melted their minds. The old man had thrown down his enchilada and conjured a bass from thin air, and was now meeting Alan's anthem with a challenging acoustic blow. As the two deuel, Alan's fire becomes weaker. The man's experience is beginning to outweigh the upstart's audacity, and the tide is turning in his favor! In a last ditch attempt at glory, Alan leaps from the counter and chomps down upon the old man's bass with all his might, his fingers still tearing up and down the red-hot frets, and snaps the neck of challenger's bass in twain.
The final ringing chords of Alan's mischivious mastications punctate the battle, and the onlookers give Alan a standing ovation. Alan takes a deep bow, fade to black.
So I'll bite and tell an old story of my awkward youth. Sometime in early middle school (probably 6th grade) I was on the bus heading home sandwiched into a seat (pushing my knees against the seat in front of me). Anyhow, this huge 8th grader (like really big) starts trying to make fun of me. He asks me a question at one point "Have you ever kissed a girl?" .... Now to set this up I've always liked to answer a question literally... so I meant to ask the rebellious youth whether my mom counted as being kissed? However in my normal verbal diarrhea. I said loudly "Other then your Mother?" This fat face turned beet red and he loomed over me and quickly punched me in my stomach (I was unable to avoid due to the aforementioned position I was sitting in).. I gained a lot of respect on the bus that day even though I had really meant to say... "Other then my mother"....
This Halloween, I'm going to wear my lab coat an be an OBGYN. This decision, however, is not without a back story.
So after a grueling drive from LA to Seattle for PAX, I don my lab coat and leave the hotel room at around 7 or 8 PM, merrily on my way to the convention center. It's dark, and as I exit the hotel, a group of late-20-something girls round the nearby corner.
So I'm going down the short flight of steps of the hotel side exit and I pass the group, but then I hear one of the women call me. "Hey Doctor!" I didn't see anyone else wearing a lab coat so I turned around. "Yes?" She got a little bit closer, but she was still a good 10 feet away. "Wow, hey, are you an OBGYN?" "Uh-" "Can you give me a checkup?" *Wink*
At this point, I had an easy decision to make: Possible casual sex with possibly drunk/drugged up/STD'd sorta cute girl or go to PAX and hang out with awesome people.
"Sure, I'm just going out to get a bottle of thunderbird, but you go ahead up to my room. Just ask the front desk for Dr. Zoidberg. They'll let you in." I saw them run into the hotel.
Like I said, easy decision.
Anyway, I just found the whole situation so funny that it inspired me.
Here's a story about how a girl offered to stab me to death.
I was at a party, having a particularly unfun time of it. I had worked my ass off all week, I was getting sick, I decided to run myself down just a bit more and relax, and ended up paying $5 for some godawful beer and horrible music. I did what most men in my situation would do: cracked open can after can of pisswater beer until estimable company arrived. Arrive the estimable company did, and I parlayed myself into conversation with a kickass physicist and biologist. We got along pretty well. After about an hour, though, I got a little depressed and went inside.
More beer and people arrived. I stepped out to the porch again to get some air, and I was greeted by the hand of a petit girl in a long scarf. "Hello," she said, "Would you like to be my very best friend?"
I was immediately on my guard. "What would that entail?" I said, with all the arrogant swagger I could muster.
"Well," she said, "First, we'd be best friends. Then, I'll kill you in your sleep."
I was a bit taken aback, for obvious reasons. "So let me get this straight: You wish to be my best friend, and then you want to fucking murder me?"
"Well, it's not like it'll hurt or anything. Just a nice little stabbing while you sleep."
I demurred, and told her we could not be very best friends. She grew increasingly interested, and asked if she could hold my hand for 1.5 seconds exactly. "I can sense peoples auras," she explained helpfully.
"Auras are very real to me, because I'm epileptic. Now, I think you mean new age auras, and I think you're full of shit, and as a pre-med student, I think that scarf is probably concealing some small blades."
"I'm pre-med too. I got into it because I like to cut people."
At this point I allowed her to hold my hand for exactly 1.5 seconds (under the condition that she "not touch my aura" and as long as she understood that we would never be "best friends") before backing away in haste. I made something up about feeling her aura. She nodded seriously and said her aura was purple. I told her it was nice to meet her, stuck around that house for another 15 minutes, and left hurriedly.
When many a young practitioner of a martial art gets has been at it for a while he tends to construct fantasies of what he would do in dangerous situations. Most of them end up with a thug getting a hook kick straight to the dome, then proceeding to make out with the presidents daughter. At the tender age of sixteen I of course was not immune to these fantasies either so they happened all the time, and I tended to be a bit cocky about my black belt in Tae Kwon Do. This is my lesson in reality. It was a Friday night and I was bored as hell and I recently bought a car, so I of course was going to abuse the shit out of that privilege. So I had my friend Julian sneak out of his house and we were going to go to the mall, if just for lack of better things to do. Sure it was 8:30 and the mall closed at 9:00 but we would be GOD DAMNED if we weren't going to Hot Topic to get a shitty zippo lighter (I was a poor, poor soul back then). Regardless, we got there, walked up to the entrance when I heard “Yo nigga, you want some weed!†I looked around me, looking for who the guy was talking to because clearly he wasn't talking to the pasty nerd in the Mario Kart shirt that was myself. Seeing no one around and he clearly was talking to me and Julian he got progressively closer and closer to us, getting more aggressive as he went on until he finally demanded that we handed over our money, pulling out a knife. Now, having been a black belt for a couple months, I would normally think I would have handled the situation, exclaimed Omae wa shindeiru, roundhouse kick to the face, get the girl, and roll credits to The Heat is On by Glenn Frey. Of course in the land known as reality I froze up, handed over all the money I had, and then watched him walk away while calling the police. Icing on the cake, all he stole was $1.25 in quarters, and a debit card which I promptly canceled. The good news of the story was my friend Julian hid about ten dollars in his shoe and treated us to some ice cream after talking to the police. The moral of this motherfucker? Clearly at sixteen I wasn't as hot shit as I thought I was, and even if given the option of using the martial arts that I knew, they would be totally useless against stabbing you with a knife-fu.
Which story to tell, The Threesome Tale, Legend of Shuriken Head or The Wolf Pack of Jesus?
Shuriken head it is!
We used to hang at my ex Montae's place a lot and he owned a ton of weapons. For some dumbass reason he decided to throw them at boxes for targets or the wall. For an even more dumbass idea Ces called me. I turned and ended up with a shuriken to the head. "WHY! WHAT THE FUCK!" I yelled. She's like "I aimed for your shoulder!" "WHY DID YOU AIM AT ME AT ALL! FUCK!"
That is ok. I will enjoy them. Tell. I want to tell my cat stories too, but then I fear people will think I'm a weird cat lady. I am, but I'm not that weird cat lady. I'm just a cat lady. >__>
You people making posts about aura readers makes me laugh, because there's a kid like that on my floor, and everyone hates him. He once said "Every person sees the auras as different colors, and it's based on the way they look at things," which then caused one of my friends to decide that, in her words, "He's full of shit, he just admitted that he's full of shit." The kid will basically walk into rooms and argue with people, about topics that he very clearly knows less about. I usually completely shut him down in some arguments because he's just being stupid.
So yeah, there's nothing wrong with thinking you have some extrasensory abilities, but if you run around acting like an asshole, expect people to hate you.
So yeah, there's nothing wrong with thinking you have some extrasensory abilities
No, there's definitely something wrong with thinking you have some extrasensory abilities.
Then there's also something wrong with believing in any kind of religion, which several people on this forum do think, but my argument is that as long as you don't use these thoughts to affect anyone else's life, who cares. Again, unless you're an asshole about what you believe, I could personally care less.
Then there's also something wrong with believing in any kind of religion, which several people on this forum do think,
Not really. A belief in a deity implies a belief in something who's presence cannot be empirically validated. So whatever you think, as long as you're not harming others with that belief, it's irrelevant (unless you claim that you are god, or can see god in a literal fashion).
Extrasensory abilities claim that you have the ability to make empirical observations others cannot. That's just a touch of the crazy.
A belief in a deity implies a belief in something who's presence cannot be empirically validated.
The problem is that the majority of religions also tell you quite a number of things which do, or at least, if believed, should, have a profound impact on your life.
Holding religious beliefs affects the decisions people make, and their decisions affect other people.
Holding religious beliefs affects the decisions people make, and their decisions affect other people.
Yeah. I'm just a really shitty Catholic. Pro-choice, pro-stem cells, pro-gay marriage, pro-premarital sex, the whole motherfucking lot.
I guess what I should be saying is that there's no problem with religion if you do what I do and compartmentalize all those beliefs into a neat little box that has no impact on how I live my life. At which point you've got a bit of cognitive dissonance, but everything is just peachy.
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So we were skateboarding at the skate park, and my friend is climbing out of one of the bowls when he feels a pull in his balls area. He's writhing around, he can't even get up at first. So we figure well, better get him to the hospital. So we go to a nearby hospital (the same one I went to when I got a concussion at the same skate park) and get him checked in.
Like I said, this guy has huge balls. His scrotum is like a fist. I know that because apparently when a guy has huge balls and a few drinks in him, he's gonna get them out. Like, all the time. Anyway. They take him in, and this is the story he tells me when he gets out: They had to do some kind of ultrasound or something on his balls, so they had to put this jelly on them. So the nurse did that, and then she left the room, and in a minute, another nurse came in. She said "Let's see what's going on here," and took a peek under the sheet that was over his area. Then she left, and another nurse came in. This one didn't even say anything, just peeked under the sheet and left.
EDIT: This may have been too vague. Pretty sure first nurse went out and said to the other nurses "Holy shit, there's a guy in there with huge balls!"
I can imagine how that went!
Here's the scene: a taco bell on a gloomy strip. The sky is overcast, and tired, lonely people fill the stalls. Alan walks in, a suspicious bulge under his dark green trench coat and a pinstripe fedora casting an ominous shadow over his eyes. Nobody takes notice save for a scraggly old man, who quickly hides his suspicion beneath the bulk of his grande enchilada. Alan walks hurriedly to the counter, cutting in line and silencing his fellow customer's protest with an icy glare. Turning to the bewildered cashier, three intense words escape from beneath the fedora:
"Are you ready?"
Before the cashier could even consider meeting this with a blank stare, Alan's coat is whipped aside to reveal the glorious bass guitar hanging from his shoulders. Leaping onto the counter, he kicks the cash register across the store and screams the only logical finale to his previous sentence.
"Are you ready TO ROCK?!"
A glorious golden light fills the restaurant as Alan's fingers fly up and down the neck of his instrument. The ground beneath him catches fire and reverent cheers fill the room as the patrons are treated to the most face-meltingest bass solo ever conceived by mortal men. The atmosphere was such that nobody noticed the challenger until his own masterful melody melted their minds. The old man had thrown down his enchilada and conjured a bass from thin air, and was now meeting Alan's anthem with a challenging acoustic blow. As the two deuel, Alan's fire becomes weaker. The man's experience is beginning to outweigh the upstart's audacity, and the tide is turning in his favor! In a last ditch attempt at glory, Alan leaps from the counter and chomps down upon the old man's bass with all his might, his fingers still tearing up and down the red-hot frets, and snaps the neck of challenger's bass in twain.
The final ringing chords of Alan's mischivious mastications punctate the battle, and the onlookers give Alan a standing ovation. Alan takes a deep bow, fade to black.
So yeah, he "played Taco Bell" and "ate bass"....
...I'm kinda bored, if you guys hadn't noticed.
Such is childhood :-p
So after a grueling drive from LA to Seattle for PAX, I don my lab coat and leave the hotel room at around 7 or 8 PM, merrily on my way to the convention center. It's dark, and as I exit the hotel, a group of late-20-something girls round the nearby corner.
So I'm going down the short flight of steps of the hotel side exit and I pass the group, but then I hear one of the women call me.
"Hey Doctor!"
I didn't see anyone else wearing a lab coat so I turned around. "Yes?"
She got a little bit closer, but she was still a good 10 feet away. "Wow, hey, are you an OBGYN?"
"Uh-"
"Can you give me a checkup?" *Wink*
At this point, I had an easy decision to make: Possible casual sex with possibly drunk/drugged up/STD'd sorta cute girl
or go to PAX and hang out with awesome people.
"Sure, I'm just going out to get a bottle of thunderbird, but you go ahead up to my room. Just ask the front desk for Dr. Zoidberg. They'll let you in."
I saw them run into the hotel.
Like I said, easy decision.
Anyway, I just found the whole situation so funny that it inspired me.
I was at a party, having a particularly unfun time of it. I had worked my ass off all week, I was getting sick, I decided to run myself down just a bit more and relax, and ended up paying $5 for some godawful beer and horrible music. I did what most men in my situation would do: cracked open can after can of pisswater beer until estimable company arrived. Arrive the estimable company did, and I parlayed myself into conversation with a kickass physicist and biologist. We got along pretty well. After about an hour, though, I got a little depressed and went inside.
More beer and people arrived. I stepped out to the porch again to get some air, and I was greeted by the hand of a petit girl in a long scarf. "Hello," she said, "Would you like to be my very best friend?"
I was immediately on my guard. "What would that entail?" I said, with all the arrogant swagger I could muster.
"Well," she said, "First, we'd be best friends. Then, I'll kill you in your sleep."
I was a bit taken aback, for obvious reasons. "So let me get this straight: You wish to be my best friend, and then you want to fucking murder me?"
"Well, it's not like it'll hurt or anything. Just a nice little stabbing while you sleep."
I demurred, and told her we could not be very best friends. She grew increasingly interested, and asked if she could hold my hand for 1.5 seconds exactly. "I can sense peoples auras," she explained helpfully.
"Auras are very real to me, because I'm epileptic. Now, I think you mean new age auras, and I think you're full of shit, and as a pre-med student, I think that scarf is probably concealing some small blades."
"I'm pre-med too. I got into it because I like to cut people."
At this point I allowed her to hold my hand for exactly 1.5 seconds (under the condition that she "not touch my aura" and as long as she understood that we would never be "best friends") before backing away in haste. I made something up about feeling her aura. She nodded seriously and said her aura was purple. I told her it was nice to meet her, stuck around that house for another 15 minutes, and left hurriedly.
It was a Friday night and I was bored as hell and I recently bought a car, so I of course was going to abuse the shit out of that privilege. So I had my friend Julian sneak out of his house and we were going to go to the mall, if just for lack of better things to do. Sure it was 8:30 and the mall closed at 9:00 but we would be GOD DAMNED if we weren't going to Hot Topic to get a shitty zippo lighter (I was a poor, poor soul back then). Regardless, we got there, walked up to the entrance when I heard “Yo nigga, you want some weed!†I looked around me, looking for who the guy was talking to because clearly he wasn't talking to the pasty nerd in the Mario Kart shirt that was myself. Seeing no one around and he clearly was talking to me and Julian he got progressively closer and closer to us, getting more aggressive as he went on until he finally demanded that we handed over our money, pulling out a knife. Now, having been a black belt for a couple months, I would normally think I would have handled the situation, exclaimed Omae wa shindeiru, roundhouse kick to the face, get the girl, and roll credits to The Heat is On by Glenn Frey.
Of course in the land known as reality I froze up, handed over all the money I had, and then watched him walk away while calling the police. Icing on the cake, all he stole was $1.25 in quarters, and a debit card which I promptly canceled. The good news of the story was my friend Julian hid about ten dollars in his shoe and treated us to some ice cream after talking to the police.
The moral of this motherfucker? Clearly at sixteen I wasn't as hot shit as I thought I was, and even if given the option of using the martial arts that I knew, they would be totally useless against stabbing you with a knife-fu.
Shuriken head it is!
We used to hang at my ex Montae's place a lot and he owned a ton of weapons. For some dumbass reason he decided to throw them at boxes for targets or the wall. For an even more dumbass idea Ces called me. I turned and ended up with a shuriken to the head. "WHY! WHAT THE FUCK!" I yelled. She's like "I aimed for your shoulder!" "WHY DID YOU AIM AT ME AT ALL! FUCK!"
Yeah, kids, don't play with weapons dumbasses.
So yeah, there's nothing wrong with thinking you have some extrasensory abilities, but if you run around acting like an asshole, expect people to hate you.
Extrasensory abilities claim that you have the ability to make empirical observations others cannot. That's just a touch of the crazy.
Holding religious beliefs affects the decisions people make, and their decisions affect other people.
I guess what I should be saying is that there's no problem with religion if you do what I do and compartmentalize all those beliefs into a neat little box that has no impact on how I live my life. At which point you've got a bit of cognitive dissonance, but everything is just peachy.