todays "what the fuck ? " post

[mustynutz]

So I woke up the other day with a mean hard-on. When my mom came to wake me up, she noticed this and proceeded to mount me.

"Gotta kill the snake!" she said with a toothy grin while she gyrated her hips in a sexy fashion. She hadn't done this before, but I think she's peeked in on me with some of my past girlfriends. In any case, before I could warn her about the special condoms I use, my load shot through her body like a laser, leaving a hole in the ceiling.

"Dammit, mom! Now Dad has to get another one!" I figured Dad would want to clean the mess (he always does), so I left her there and went to shower and get ready for school. As I sat down for breakfast, my dad looked down from his newspaper and asked the inevitable:

"Did your mom try to fuck you again?"
"Yea."
"Was she successful this time?"
"Yea."
"So I heard. You think I could have a go with her before I feed her to the pigs?"
"Sounds about right."
"You know, your sister has always been jealous that she can't ride your cock."
"I know, waddaya gonna do. Can you pass the jam and marg--wait a minute. I have a sister?"
"Oh yea, I never told you! We keep her locked up when you're in the house so she doesn't try to fuck you like your mom did."
"Uh...ok. Will I ever get to meet her?"
"You can meet her now, if you think you can keep her off you; she thinks you're 'reeaaallly hot'!"
"Ehh, ok..."

At that, my dad stood up and tossed the table through the window like a frisbee, gave an almighty scream like an Indian (woo-woo-woo, not 7-11), and smashed through the floor where the table had stood. Instantly, the most gorgeous girl I had ever seen jumped up and came charging at me. Long, light brown hair, hazel eyes, perfectly bouncing titties, on thin waist with a tight ass--needless to say, I didn't think twice about fucking her.

Before long we ripped each other's clothes off and went at it, while my dad stood there with the paper in one hand, his coffee in the other. I wanted to keep her around for a few more sessions, so I tried to pull out before I spewed. But when she felt me slip away, she forced my schlonger back in and held tight.

"Are you fucking nuts? You'll end up just like mom!"
"Fuck mom! Fuck her in her dirty asshole!"

My dad instantly dropped his coffee and paper and ran to my bedroom, as if my sister's words were the Word of God. Which they weren't. God lives down the street from us. He comes over every now and then for Table Tennis Tuesdays. Oh yea, I blew my load inside my sister and she was able to take it all! I was shocked! Yet that was nothing compared to what came next. She doubled over like she was praying to Mecca and shot every ounce of my load through the wall!! What a woman! But then--

"Clark, i'm afraid you just don't do it for me."
"What? No more fuck sessions?"
"We can have a few more. But I prefer our other brother."
"We have another brother?"
"Yep."
"Uhh....so where is he?"
"You'll see..."
"Can I have a blowjob in the mean time?"
"Ok."

 

[mustynutz]

My sister started getting a cramp in her neck from waxing my knob for so long. Luckily, I blew my load just as she was ready to give up. It didn't shoot through her head like I thought it might, but the force of my super sperm sent her into the refrigerator. She was unconscious for a few seconds, so I did what any good brother would do in that situation--I pissed on her. The super steam from my golden stream melted the freezer part of the fridge, dumping ice on her. This woke her up.

"OWWW you fuck!"
"Sorry 'bout that. Umm...so what about this brother of ours you talked about?"
"Yea, yea, I'll show you in a second. Help me out of here, I've got mayonnaise and lemonade all over me."
"That's...not mayo or lemonade."
"WHAT?!"
"I mean, uhh...that Scott Baio whores women, eh? Charles in charge, indeed!"
"Whatever, just get me out of here!"

At that moment the door to the kitchen swung open to reveal Dad, smoking a cigarette, with a pleasantly vacant expression on his face.

"Clark, your mom is a sexual animal this morning! She was a little stiff but she let me do whatever I wanted! I wonder what brought on this change?"
"Uh, Dad, she's dead, remember?"
"Oh yeah, that's right. That would explain why she started shitting on me while I was tossing her salad...she never used to be into that. In any case, I'm off to the market to get you a new mom. I hear that "Joanie love Chachi" guy is the big pimp-daddy this month!"
"What about the Mom upstairs?"
"I dunno, feed her to the pigs before she makes your entire carpet brown. Maybe you can piss on her first and let it marinate in, the pigs seem to like it."

With that, he was out the door, not noticing the destroyed refrigerator. Probably because I stole it to begin with, he figured I'd go steal another one from Sears. Those security guards are pretty slow. Anyways, I left my sis where she was, eating up all the "mayo" and "lemonade" with the zeal of a 15-year-old mom going to collect her guh'ment check. There was, indeed, a good amount of shit on the ground. Not a problem. I ripped my old mom's carcass in two even pieces and scooped it all up. This left a lot of blood and guts strewn about my room, but it really turns on the goth chicks I like to fuck and then kill for being goth chicks. After pissing on the body as instructed by Dad, I tossed her remains to the pigs. I was a little thrown off at first, because I thought there were a bunch of police in our farm, but it turns out my dad was just up to his antics again. He must have dressed up the pigs as cops, complete with hats, sunglasses, guns, and handcuffs.

Then I went back to the kitchen to find my sister going at it with a 15-inch orange spiked dildo with a Carrot Top base. As in, the commedian. What can I say? She's a weird chick.

"Hey, did you feed mom to the pigs already?"
"Yeah, why?"
"Oh, man, now you can't see our brother?"
"What? Why not?"
"He was hiding inside her ass, asshole!"
"Oh..."

 

[mustynutz]

This one comes from my very own Concealed Hidden Invisible Not-Kewl vault. That is to say, it is something embarrassing enough that I had never even considered telling another soul, even my best friend. After all the shit I've read on Uber, however, I feel comfortable sharing this story. That, and it occurred to me that the other party involved probably has not kept this story to herself. Cunt.

Okay, so here's some basic background stuff to better understand this story:
1. I'm a guy.
1a. I like blowjobs.
2. I watch porn.
2a. Porn gives me ideas.

In my early teen years, I discovered the wonders of porn, thanks to friends and my sister's ex-husband's poorly hidden stash. I saw regular porn, french "golden shower" porn, german "shit" porn, even good ol' american "horse blow-job" porn. The only thing that really pressed my buttons, though (besides good ol' naked womenz and intercourse), was the thought of cumming in a chick's face. Swallowing is cool and makes for easier clean-up, but nothing says "You're my personal slut, BITCH!" quite like spraying your seed on a girl's mug.

Fast forward a few years, to my second or third girlfriend. We're making out, we get to the clothes-stripping stage, and she hits me with the "I'm not ready for sex yet" speech, sounding almost like a health class instructor. Personally, I think it's bullshit if you're basing it on the whole "sacred" premise, the stupid dream of losing your "virginity" to the "perfect someone." Most people's first times suck (I'll leave that for another post). It's especially stupid if you're willing to go down on a guy and vice versa. You're gonna let a guy finger you, but his penis is forbidden from the Cave of Wonders? Fucking weak. Oh shit, went off on a tangent. Eh, well, this is Uber, that's what people do. Anyways...

So she gave me the speech and, quite frankly, I didn't give a damn. Yes, she said "I'm not ready for sex"; but as soon as she said "but", I knew I was gettin' a little sumpin' sumpin' (hey, it was the 90's, and she was hispanic). Fast forward after I went down on her, she's satisfied and ready to ravage my cocker. I sat down on the edge of her bed and she proceeded to work some magic. For a few minutes, I was caught up in the enjoyment of the blowjob. That's when I remembered my early teen fascination....

"Mmmm, baby, that shit feels good..."
"Mm--glurg--hmm?..glurgleglurg"
"Mmmm...you like how I went down on you before, right?"
"glurg..mmhmmmm..glurg-glurg"
"Can I do something when I cum?"
"Mmm? glurg glurg-glurg glurg" --I sensed some nervousness on her part here. But stll--
"Can I shoot my load in your face..."
"glurg glurg gwha?"

It was an interesting sight. She had ceased the sucking, and looked at me with imploring eyes, with her mouth still on the tip of my dick. I foresaw this reaction and looked back with imploring eyes of my own, complete with an extended lower lip, like a 4-year-old about to cry. There was a slight struggle, but finally--

"Okay...glurg glurg glurg.."
"YES!!" --This, of course, was in my mind.

Fast forward not too far in the future to near the end of the blowjob. Maybe she just wanted to get it over with, or maybe she was just plain nervous (probably both), but she started going reeeeally fast after my announcement. And she threw in deep-throating action. So, here it was, the moment of truth, the period of precision, the time of awesomeness--

"Oh shit, baby, I'm about to cum!"
"Glurg glurg...ok..."

She was nervous, but she was a real champ about it. She aimed my rock-hardness in between her eyes and put her hand around my shaft to keep jerking me off. If she had been pointing a loaded revolver at herself, I don't think she would have looked any more nervous.

But if I had only known....

"OHH shit, yea! Here it comes...yeaahh--AH FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! OWWW"

Ohh, I came in her face alright. And it was awesome. Too awesome. I guess the FIRST load I shot in her face scared her off, because she pushed my cock out of the way--perfectly in line with my left nostril as a SECOND load shot off. FUCK!...FUCK! And to reiterate--FUCK!!!

My girl was too distracted with my junk that was on her face to immediately notice what had just happened. But when she did...well, yea, she pretty much forgot she had been nervous. Needless to say, I was pretty embarrassed. I mean, we were both cool about it afterward. We both had orgasms, we both had cum in our face, waddaya gonna do? But I had a hell of a time blowing it out. Have YOU ever made a cum bubble with your nose? I think not.



I still love getting blowjobs.

 

[mustynutz]

You've finished your work early. You've packed your shit, evaded your boss(es) and made your way to the elevators. You push the button, wait a tense minute for one of them to open for you, and get your ass on. Ahh, success tastes nice, like a beer. Or a girl. The doors begin to close, and you let out a sigh of relief, because you just outwitted your "superiors" (probably not a hard thing to do).

But WAIT!!

Just as the doors are about to shut firmly tight, a hand breaks through the invisible forcefield between the doors (which your mind created in an attempt to prevent just such an occurence, like the zombies at the end of the "Thriller" video!

"SHIT!", you think to yourself. You were about to get an express ride to the lobby (you're on the 9th floor, by the way), but now some jackass has made his way into your space. And he's only going one floor down. But it's okay, it's only one extra stop, right?

WRONG!

As soon as Mr. Fucko broke the forcefield, he set off the alarm that alerts 10 more people to come crowd the elevator like sardines (along with the sardine smell) and press at least 67% of the buttons above your target floor.

Is this a daily occurrence? Yes. Does it really piss you the fuck off? Yes. Does it have to happen? No! Not if you use my new product: The Fucker Eliminator! How does it work? In 3 easy steps, that's how:

1. Extend the razor as tall as you need it to be. For optimum flexibility, it has been designed to be as short as 6 feet and as tall as 9 feet!
2. Simply apply the blunt side of the 4-inch blade along the sides of each elevator door--the revolutionary design allows it to attach firmly to most elevator door designs!.
3. As you board the elevator, set up your mental forcefield. This will automatically attract a fucking scumbag that will attempt to invade your space.
4. As said fuckface approaches, he (or she) will make eye contact, verbally or telepathically conveying the message that they want you to hold the elevator for them. When this occurs, either:
a. Stare them down and give them a mean look to let them know you would rather kill them.
b. Laugh and point at their stupid ass, letting them know that they are, indeed, a stupid ass.
5. When they attempt to block the elevator door, The Fucker Eliminator will proceed to slice through their:
a. Forearm
b. Hand
c. Fingers
d. Confidence
e. Some combination of 5a-5d.
6. As they run around screaming like the fucking dipshits they are, continue to use whichever tactic you chose from Item #4. If their severed appendage happened to land inside the elevator, be sure to give it a good kick, preferably aiming somewhere far from both the elevator and asshole.

There you have it! A revolutionary new idea, yet one that should have been invented a long time ago! If you hate motherfucking assholes that ruin your elevator ride as much as I do, don't wait!




I hate elevator fuckheads.

 

[mustynutz]

There's a few of you out there that might know me as the newcomer that wrote about waxing his hairy ass. Actually it was about asking my girlfriend to get a brazilian bikini wax if I waxed my ass. That submission got panned, and rightfully so. I did say that I would follow up on it, and here it is.

Okay, so I was really proud of myself for coming up with such an ingenious plan. In my mind, it was utterly flawless. In my mind, I also have a 10-inch cock. With internal STD repellent. And 5 hot bitches around me doing all types of freaky-ass shit. Anyways...

When I got home from work, I scarfed down dinner and made the 30-minute trek to my girlfriend's house. After settling in and cuddling with her for a few minutes, I proceeded to beat around the bush (no pun intended initially, but now I think it's funny) and slowly work my way towards my proposal.

I started off by commenting how hot it seemed in her room:
"Damn, baby, I think it's like 100 degrees in here. Maybe you should get central air...my legs are getting all sweaty.."

"No, they're all sweaty because they're hairy like your ass!" --JACKPOT! And she said it in a playful tone, so she wouldn't already be in a belligerent state of mind when I posed the question.

"Well, uhhh, maybe I should just go get my legs waxed. I'd bet you'd like me better with 10-year-old-girl-looking legs!" --Ha, I'm so eloquent!

"Yea, well maybe they can get your ass while you're at it!" --Holy fuckin shit, I couldn't believe how quickly she was speeding me toward my question. But I couldn't ask quite yet..

"Bahh, you know you love my ape-ass. You just wanna hold it, and hug it, and squeeze it!!" --I'm a smooth operator.

"Yea, if I wanna make myself puke!" --Okay, I have to ask her soon, before we get off-topic..

"So you're saying if I waxed my ass you'd be all over it, ehh?" --God, I'm a fuckin dumbass.

"No, but it would just be nice to actually see what your ass looks like, ape-boy." --Okay, she's razzing me, I think. I'm not even sure what it means to "razz," but I'm sure she's doing it.

"Fuck that, I'm not waxing my ass.." --Trying to play the reverse-psychology card...

"Fine." --Shit!!! Didn't work!

"Uhh, what do you mean, 'fine'? --Getting desperate.

"I mean, fine. I don't deal with your ass much as it is, why should it bother me?" --DAMMIT! Think, think, think, think....

"You know what, I'm gonna wax it, just to spite you." --What the fuck? That was my best response?

"Oh yeah? Do you really think you could actually go through with that? Do you know how much it fucking hurts to get waxed?" --Okay, this is boomeranging back in my direction....

"Fuck that shit! Woman, I am a MAN, and as such can handle any kind of waxing pain!" --I'm not actually pompous, I just speak like that sometimes to piss my girlfriend off. And she definitely doesn't like to be called "woman." And I knew this already. In retrospect, I probably shouldnt' have called her that.

<she punched my arm for the woman comment>

"Fuck you, dickhead! And it's not like you're actually gonna go and get your ass waxed, so there's no point trying to prove that you can handle it!" --Okay, okay, okay...I'm revving my engine. I'm getting ready. It's coming...

"Look, I tell you what. I WILL actually go through with it! I will go through with it, and then you'll have to do something for me..." --So far, so good...right?...

"And what's that?" --here it comes....

"Brazilian bikini wax." --Silence. Blank expression. Then--

<POW-SAAAAAAALLLLAPITTY-CRUNCH-BOOMSHAKALAKA-FUUUUUCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!>

"FUCK YOU! I already told you I'm not gonna go through with that! That shit hurts so much and you want me to do that just for your own pleasure and you fucking asshole I bet you've been setting up this whole conversation just to try to get me to agree you think I'm a fucking moron like you, you fucking asshole, just go home!!! --She was not too happy...I had asked her a few times before on different occasions...Does that make me a stupid-ass for setting this up?

"Uhh, sorry bout that, I--"

"Just go the fuck home, dickwad!!!! I'll call you tomorrow--MAYBE!! --So I went home.


She slapped me pretty hard. I mean, she slapped me HA-A-A-ARD. I think she used sort of a half-closed fist to slap me. God, that fuckin hurt. I think that's pretty much the end of this series. The moral of the story is...uhh, don't pester your girlfriend over and over to do something she doesn't want to do. Yea...it kind of hurt a little extra to shave this morning.

Fuckin ay, man.

 

[mustynutz]

fall into the category of the slacker. Actually according to a book I'm writing (trying to write...one line per day or so), there are several types, mine being the work soft/play soft variety. That is, I'll play video games all night instead of study for that last final and then reward myself with more video games instead of waking up with a hangover. I also believe that my breed of slacker is not against doing work, just against putting all their effort into the work that they do. Falling far short of potential is the name of the game!

That being said, I find myself in the precarious position of being fresh out of college with little real-world work experience and even less drive to do real-world work. It is with this mindset that I found myself headed to work for as a Day Camp Counselor for a fifth straight summer. And believe me, I'm not knocking the job--I fuckin loved working there. Kids are fun in small doses. Fun in the I-like-to-play-basketball-for-20-minutes way and not the I'm-Jacko-let's-sleep-together way, mind you. Then, a week before camp orientation, I get this call from a guy in Florida (I live near NYC) that works for MegaBank (I've changed company and location names in the event that someone wants to get me fired) letting me know of an open intern position in MegaBank's Technology Infrastructure division in the lower west side. Holy fuckin shit! My heart was pounding! Finally, I could get my family and girlfriend off my ass about getting a job!

So I went for the interview, making sure that I wrote down the address of the place that was sent to me in an e-mail: 260 Fake St. At least, that's what I saw in my rush to catch the last train that would get me to the city in time. When I arrived at 260 Fake St. I found a construction site. After over 45 minutes of frantic cell phone calls and girly pouting (i'm a 6'2" 215-pound semi-muscular dude), I verified the proper address and was only 30 minutes late. Fan-fuckin-tastic.

When I finally meet the dude, I realize that I am way over-dressed: I have on a snazzy suit and awesome shoes, while everyone in the place had on golf shirts, khakis, and Timberlands (except for the chicks, though they were comparably casual). Then he starts rambling on about how all the shit on my resume really made me stand out from all the other candidates. Unfortunately, the shit he was specifically pointing out was the same shit that I had forgotten to take out because I realized I don't really know it. Fuckin ayyy. So he asks me if I know Perl and CGI and I'm like "uhh yea, I made a little e-mail program for a homework assignment 2 years ago." This is where my slacker mentality kicks in. Sure, being a CompSci major I could have learned this already--but why? I got decent enough grades without learning! And if it really came down to it, I could spend a couple days actually learning what I need to know for the position. Wait, did I just say that? Fuck it, I'll just sabotage the rest of the interview, I can't wait for camp!

And sabotage I did--any more questions my interviewers (there were 3) asked me that began with "Do you know" I answered with "I studied the theory, but practically..." or "I'm not as familiar with it as I used to be" or something to that extent. Much to my chagrin, I got a call a week later from Mr. Florida Megabank telling me I got the internship, which started on June 22nd.

"Fucking great," says I to meself, "instead of having fun, working outside, swimming, going to fun places for free with the childrens, I get to travel 3 hours a day and serve coffee for the entire summer while dressing like I'm preparing for a golf tournament!"

That's when this dude said something that tickled my balls in a way that only that Dominican girl that I dated 2 years ago that goes to Hunter College was able to do before:

"Your pay rate is $17/hr."

HOLY FUCKIN SHIT, I almost skeetskeetskeeted through my shorts! Now, around these parts (Westchester County, NYC) that's not enough to retire on, but for me, a slacker with no practical experience? Oh, you better fuckin believe that's some good cash, especially for an internship! Just call me a corporate whore! I was so psyched about the pay, that I forgot about the whole getting up at 5:30-5:45 in the morning aspect. And walking around in shoes that carve into my ankles. And being bored off my fuckin ass all day! But $17/hr.....

So now I have this "good job," as my girlfriend puts it. At the very least, it's something that I can put on my resume that doesn't involve taking other people's kids to the movies or the pool. This is my third week of work, 12th day overall cuz of 4th of July (I keep track of this on my away message on IM). The one positive thing about this experience so far is that I don't, in fact, have to serve anyone coffee. As a matter of fact, I don't really have to do a whole hell of a lot. Actually, it seems that I only get work to do if I ask for it. It helps (or compounds, depending on how you look at it) matters that my manager was in London all last week for a meeting and will now be in the hospital indefinitely with blood clot issues. Don't get me wrong--I wish him well, but I sort of like doing nothing.

On the other hand, I've been sitting in this cubicle for 2 weeks now doing very exciting and fulfilling tasks like checking 140-page reports written by some guy named Rashid, who has an awful sense of English grammar and syntax. And checking god-awfully long Excel spreadsheets for inconsistencies with their online versions. And now, I've spent the last hour writing this while exchanging e-mails with the one dude my age here and alt-tabbing to the MegaBank corporate intranet website when my other supervisors walk by.

Yeah, I could have been at camp for a 5th straight summer, but that's not a "good job," not like the one I have. Not like the one that's paying me $17/hr. Not like the one that is very steadily killing my brain cells. But it is paying $17/hr. Hmmm, 17 dollars X 42.5 hours X how many weeks is this internship....?

This job sucks. But there are some hot bitches interning for the summer.

 

[mustynutz]

So I'm sitting here the other day with my last bowl, already half smoked. I set the bowl down to make a pizza. I accidentally burn the pizza. I carry the pizza to my desk where I was smoking the bowl and at some point I unknowingly knock it over. While eating the pizza some of the charred crust breaks off and falls into the area where the bowl spilled. I finish the pizza, and wish to resume smoking my bowl, when I realize what has happened. I make a half-hearted attempt to sift through the charred bits of pizza crust and weed. You would think it would be fairly easy to deduce which is which for someone who's been smoking as long as I have, but the blackened charred bits all look the same. At least in this frame of mind they do. "Fuck it" I say, and dump everything into the bowl. I inhale. Tastes a bit peculiar, but hey, it seems to be getting me high. Ah, who am I kidding? I was already high. Good times. These times are fleeting however, particularly when they're dependant on some sort of pick me up. This isn't true happiness. It can't last.

It's been a month and a half now since I was laid off. For a month and a half I have collected my severance and sat on my ass and done absolutely nothing. Each night I stay up progressively later, and each successive day I sleep more and more of the morning and afternoon away. Not doing anything of any importance mind you, or anything even mildly entertaining for that matter. No, I do the same bullshit I would otherwise be doing during the day, just at night. I've always been a creature of the night. When I was little my parents had to put me in the car in the middle of the night and drive me around the block to get me to fall asleep. Funny thing is, there are notes in my baby book saying how even at an early age (two or three) they could tell I had musical ability, and I grew up to be a musician. It's amazing what lifelong traits are evident at an age where one can barely speak.

At first I tried to make use of my time off, do things that I wouldn't otherwise have the opportunity to do. Now some days I barely even leave the house, and more recently there have been occasions where I didn't even bother to get dressed. "What for?" I ask myself. I'm not going anywhere. I have everything I need right here. It's my comfort zone.

I stopped smoking weed...or to be more accurate, stopped buying weed around the time I was laid off. I figured it'd be best if I didn't so I'd be clean for any impending drug tests. The alternative however is that I find myself scraping every last piece of paraphernalia in the house, and scraped they have been. I've smoked so much resin in the last month my lungs are pleading with me to buy a sack just to give them a rest. I dig through ashtrays, my stem and seed collection, trying desperately to find anything worth smoking. It's futile, but I always manage to find some sort of placebo effect. It's just something to kill the boredom. Eventually I realize the futility of my efforts and begin looking online for more creative solutions to my problem. I do some reading and ultimately gather my stems and soak them in vodka, boiling it to evaporate the water. It smells like gasoline. I chill it and take a shot, after straining out the remains of the stems. It tastes like gasoline, and even more so it burns like gasoline. What the fuck am I doing?

My girlfriend stops by at eleven thirty this morning, as I'm dead asleep having been up all night. I hate drop-ins, no opportunity to collect yourself or your senses. She takes one look at me, obviously still intoxicated in a complete fog, and a look around at the mess I've created. My concoctions and scraping tools, paraphernalia etc are still lying everywhere. She doesn't say anything, but I can tell by the way she's looking at me she's looking down upon me. She thinks I need to get it together. She thinks I'm a lesser person. Perhaps she's right.

I sit here now, nearly five o'clock in the morning, unable to sleep. This is what I do. This is who I have become. I'm not even remotely tired, as somewhere around ten or so I caught my second wind, and my mind races. I'm awake, aware. I sit on the porch and smoke a cigarette, but not because I smoke. No, I quit smoking some time in the mid to late nineties. I am now the proud owner of three packs of cigarettes however simply because I needed something to smoke in lieu of my typical weed asphyxiation. It is in these moments, in the waning darkness before the first light begins to break through the trees that everything becomes clear. I realize that my entire life to this point has been one giant fuck up. Countless opportunities squandered. Countless well-meaning friends turned away or ignored. I need a job, but more so, I desperately need some direction in life, rather than continue to wallow in this sea of despair. I begin to wonder if religion perhaps is the answer. The same religion I've been mocking all my life, but it is in these moments of vulnerability that I can see why even the most level headed of persons might cling to something so seemingly irrational for lack of anywhere else to turn. All I know is change is needed, a massive overhaul of my current listless existence. I take one last puff of my cigarette and hope that these realizations, like the so-called "epiphanies" from my acid days, stick with me, and don't fade away like some illusive dream into the night.

 

[mustynutz]

lol....damn

 

[BUTCHER 206]

fuck my new apartment had one of those stupid fuckin rubber mats in the shower... so tonight while im taking a shower i bit it hard. it was hella weird i was still super tired and i didnt realize what happened till i was hanging halfway over the tub with the shower curtain ripped from the rod and my face was sore.

fuckin slipped and bruised my thigh on the side of the tub, bruised up my arm, and my lip and nose are sore from hitting my face on the side of the tub.

tl;dr slipped in the shower almost died

 

[BUTCHER 206]

 

[phncke]

Ressurected thru the birth of my seed

 

[Ry]

RIP Mustynutz...

 

[fillyacup]

only musty could get away with posts like that

 

[DVS ONE]

R.I.P Musty Loco..... I would read all those stories too most of them were worth it.....

 

[Legman]

musty is resting amongst the all virgins granted to him by H.A.D.