Tag Archives: humor

Toilet Gator – Chapter 6

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In the first floor lavatory of the Beta Theta Zeta sorority house, Gretchen primped herself in front of the mirror, being careful to make sure her makeup was just right.

“Ahem,” Eleanor said as she pulled a crinkled up piece of paper out of her pocket and flattened it out on the sink counter. “I wrote you a little something.”

“You did?” Gretchen asked. “You shouldn’t have.”

“Please,” Eleanor said. “You know spoken word poetry is my bag. Ahem.”

Eleanor coughed at least six or seven more times into her hand until her vocal chords were primed and ready. She then read from the paper. “‘My love for you is like a river – deep, winding, mysterious…and oh so wet.’”

“That’s nice,” Gretchen said. “Short and sweet – just like you.”

“It’s not over,” Eleanor said.

Gretchen ran a tube of bubblegum colored lipstick over her lips. “Oh sorry.”

“Come,” Eleanor read from her masterpiece. “Join me! Become one with my spiritual canoe and together we will float down a river filled with our love forever and ever and ever and ever and…”

“Thanks, Elle,” Gretchen said.

It wasn’t over. “…and ever and ever and ever…”

Gretchen rolled her eyes. “You’ve got a way with words.”

“There was like twenty more ‘and evers’ but I think you get the gist,” Eleanor said.

Gretchen smiled and pecked Eleanor on the cheek. The hipster girl’s cheek flushed.

“That was wonderful,” Gretchen said. “Thank you.”

“So,” Eleanor said. “Will you?”

“Will I what?” Gretchen asked.

Eleanor through up her arms in exasperation. “Float down the river of love with me for ever and ever and ever…”

Gretchen’s stomach turned. “Oh…you were serious?”

Eleanor was quiet for a moment, then blew Gretchen a raspberry. “Pbbbht! As if!”

Gretchen giggled. “Oh my God! You got me!”

“I totally got you!” Eleanor said.

“I mean, I’m only twenty-one,” Gretchen said. “‘Forever is a long time and I don’t know if I’m done with penis yet.’”

Eleanor fumed, then took a deep breath and calmed herself down. “How do you not know if you are done with the very instrument of oppression that men the patriarchy has been unleashing upon the sisterhood since the dawn of time?”

“The penis?” Gretchen asked.

“Yes!” Eleanor shouted. “Of course, the penis! How do you think the patriarchy…”

Wham! The bathroom door flew open and a quartet hurried in just in time to avoid Eleanor’s latest antri-patriarchy rant.

“Get me to the shitter!” Chad cried. “For the love of God, get me to the shitter!”

“Move!” Britney shouted. “Everyone out of the way!”

“Chad,” Lilly said. “I know this is a bad time but do you want to go out next weekend?”

“Can’t…talk,” Chad said as Britney and Paul led the big man on campus into a stall. “Must…poop…out…everything…I have ever eaten before…in my entire…life.”

“That’s cool,” Lilly said. “You can hit me up later on Lifebox or something.”

Paul closed the stall door and he and Britney stepped back as Chad did his dirty business.

“Ohhh!” Chad cried as the bathroom became engulfed in an orchestra of terrible sounds and even worse smells. “Sweet relief!”

“Just let it all out, man,” Paul said. “You’ll be fine.”

Gretchen stepped away the mirror and looked at Paul and Britney. “Oh my God. Is that Chad Becker?”

A series of toots erupted from the stall before Chad answered. “In the flesh, babe…”

“Oh my God,” Gretchen said. “Chad! Why didn’t you call me back?”

“Oh,” Britney said. “For the love of…seriously?”

“Which one are you again?” Chad asked as the toilet bowl ramped up the echoes of his butt blasts.

“Gretchen Dieterman,” Gretchen said.

“Short girl,” Chad said. “A little pudgy?”

“God no,” Gretchen replied.

“I don’t know,” Chad said as he stood up off on the toilet. He got down on his knees on the dirty bathroom floor and puked into the already brown toilet water. “I’ll check my records and get back to you.”

“That’s cool,” Gretchen said as she twirled a strand of her hair around her finger. “Whatevs.”

“Wait,” Lilly said. “Chad, you said you were going to call ME back three months ago. Now you’re going to call this skank back before me?”

“Them’s the breaks, girl…BLEAH!!!”

Gretchen got into Lilly’s face. “Who are you calling a skank, bitch?”

Lilly refused to back down. “Who are you calling a bitch, bitch?”

Britney positioned herself in-between the bickering females. “Are you two really going to fight over this loser?”

Chad was back, sitting on the bowl again. More farts. More smells. “Babe, I’m not a loser. What do you call a man who dedicated ten years of his life to getting a two-year community college degree?”

“A loser,” Britney said.

“Well,” Chad said. “You say tomato, I say ‘tomahto.’ You call me a loser, but I just say that means I’m committed.”

“Like you know anything about commitment, Chad,” Britney said. “Your parents just keep paying for you to go here because they don’t want you living with them, destroying their house and you keep failing classes because you know you’ll never make it in the real world.”

“Wait,” Lilly said.

“You dated him too?” Gretchen asked.

“Worst mistake of my life,” Britney said.

“Paul!” Chad shouted. “Paul, you out there bro?”

“Yeah,” Paul replied.

“Gonna need some major TP, bro!”
“Right,” Paul said. The nerd opened up an empty stall, pulled the toilet paper roll out of the dispenser, then hurled it over the side of Chad’s stall.

“Much obliged, kemo sabe,” Chad said.

“Don’t mention it,” Paul said.

“Whoa,” Lilly said. “How do we know you’re not over Chad?”

“Yeah,” Gretchen said. “Maybe you’re just trying to scare us off so you can have him all to yourself.”

Chad’s backside ripped a sound akin to the motor of a struggling leaf blower. “Putt, putt, putt, putt, putt…”

“If that doesn’t scare you off, nothing will,” Britney said.

Eleanor had had enough of this unsavory display. She stopped her foot and started screaming. “Enough! Gretchen, you dated that…that…thing in there?”

“I told you I didn’t know if I was done with penis yet,” Gretchen said.

“Why is he here?” Gretchen said as he pointed at Chad’s stall. She then pointed at Paul. “And why is he here? This is a female restroom only!”

“It was an emergency,” Britney said. “The idiot soused himself on Spazenbrau and it was literally coming out of both ends.”

Chad farted. “Still is.”

“This is unacceptable,” Eleanor said as she pulled out her cell phone. “I’m calling campus police.”

“Oh come on,” Britney said. “Is that really necessary?”

“It is absolutely necessary,” Eleanor said.

“But Elle,” Gretchen whined. “You’re going to get him in trouble!”

“He got himself in trouble by coming in here,” Eleanor said.

Chad let a few stinkers rip, then interrupted the conversation. “I identify as a chick!”

Eleanor’s face scrunched up. “What?”

“I self-identify as a female!” Chad shouted between butt blasts. “I just now started thinking, ‘Damn, I really wish I was born with a vagina instead of a penis. What a drag.’”

Paul laughed. Britney lowered her head into hear hands out of sheer embarrassment.
Eleanor swiped the hang up button on her phone. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying I’m a chick on the inside and I have a spiritual vagina,” Chad said. “And Sitwell Community College has a very strict policy when it comes to people being allowed to use the bathroom that corresponds to their gender identity.”

“Oh no,” Eleanor said as she put her phone back in her pocket. “I’m very sorry I disturbed you, ma’am.”

“You should be!” Chad shouted as he strained on the toilet. “Oh Jesus, my ass is on fire!”

“I didn’t mean to,” Eleanor said. “I consider myself to be one of the most woke students on this campus but I guess we all make mistakes.”

“It’s cool,” Chad said. “Not your fault you’re a dumbass.”

“I can relate because sometimes I wish I was born with a penis instead of a vagina,” Eleanor said.

“Well,” Chad said. “Would that I could rip my penis off and trade you your vagina for it but I’m no medical scientist so I don’t know how to do that.”

Britney shook her head. “I just…I can’t believe this is my life.”

Paul just laughed and laughed and laughed.

“Wait,” Eleanor said as she looked at Paul. “What about you?”

“What about me?” Paul asked.

“Do you also self-identify as a female?”

Paul scratched his head and stalled for awhile.

“Tell her the truth, Beermeister,” Chad said.

“I…I…”

Chad made a courtesy flush, then turned the new water brown instantly. “Tell her about your spiritual cooter, dummy!”

“I’m uh…just going to be outside.” Paul walked out of the bathroom and closed the door behind him.

“That’s too bad that you’re a woman now, Chad,” Gretchen said. “I was really hoping to do something with you.”

“Me too,” Lilly said.
“Skank,” Gretchen said.

“Bitch,” Lilly replied.

“Oh, don’t worry ladies,” Chad said. “I can still stick it to the two of you.”

Eleanor pulled the phone out of her pocket. “I knew it! You love your penis and you are ruled by it! I’m calling the cops!”

“No, no!” Chad said. “Gender is fluid!”

“Oh,” Eleanor said as she returned the phone to her pocket. “I forgot about it.”

“Today I hate my penis, thus allowing me to use the ladies’ room,” Chad said. “But for all I know, I might start loving the little guy again and may even feel manly enough to give it to Lucy and Gretel over there.”

“Lilly,” Lilly said.

“Gretchen,” Gretchen added.

“I’m a monster,” Eleanor said. “Please forgive me.”

Chad unleashed a torrent of plops right into the toilet. “It’s a tall order but I’ll try.”

“Thank you,” Eleanor said. “You’re very brave.”

“I know,” Chad replied.

“Damn it,” Britney muttered under her breath. “He can even charm lesbians.”

“What?” Eleanor asked.

“Oh nothing,” Britney said as she leaned up against the wall.

All of a sudden, the pipe connecting to Chad’s toilet rumbled.

“Jesus, Chad,” Britney said. “Is that you?”

“I don’t think so,” Chad replied.

“RAAARRRRRGHHHH!” A loud, beastly roar filled the bathroom. The wall of the stall flew off. It sailed through the air before landing on top of the four girls, pinning them to the ground.

Chad had no idea what was consuming him. All he knew was that something sharp, actually many sharp somethings, were shredding his torso, tearing him and grinding him apart, mashing his body into mush and spraying his body and bits everywhere.

“Oh God!” were Chad’s last words. “I haven’t banged enough chicks yet! Oh God!”

Britney’s vision was blurry, a condition caused by her head smacking into the bathroom floor. She pulled herself out from underneath the stall wall and crawled along the watery floor. The broken pipe sent gallons everywhere.

“Hissssssss….”

Britney turned her head toward the scary sound. Her eyes started to focus. For a brief moment, she caught site of what her brain registered as an enormous, menacing, toothy lizard. It stared at Britney. Britney stared back, then she passed out.

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Six Weeks of Toilet Gator Sundays!

Truly, the longest meaningful commitment I’ve ever made…

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Best Pickup Lines #76-100

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#76 – Hey baby.  I have some lotion and I would love it if you would put it in my basket.  Remember, if you don’t put it in the basket, you’ll get the hose again.

#77 – Pardon me, I know this sounds rude and offensive, but I just have to say you have an amazing body.  It would look fabulous in my crawlspace.

#78 – Does this rag I just pulled out of my pocket smell like chloroform to you?

#79 – You look so beautiful I just want to kiss you.  But first, can you sign these forms in triplicate stating your assent to me kissing you?  Also, we’ll need to find a late night drive-through notary office before we can get down to business.

#80 – You’ll probably never do any better than me.  I’ll probably never do any better than you.  Let’s just give up and be together already.  It’s not like anyone else is kicking down the door for us.

#81 – Oh, you like my outfit?  Good because the 1970s called and they said they will never take it back.

#82 – Let’s make some bad decisions.  Put me at the top of the list.

#83 – I look way better in the dark.  In fact, there are no lightbulbs in my place.

#84 – Can I just take a quick selfie with you so all my social media followers will assume I have something going on even though I clearly don’t?

#85 – Maybe’s there’s a python in my pants.  Maybe it’s just a lowly worm.  Pants roulette, baby.  Pants roulette.

#86 – I’m the best man I know but I admit I don’t know many people.

#87 – Let’s make this quick.  I have to get back to Gotham City and fight the Joker.  Shh, don’t tell anyone I told you that.

#88 – Am I ugly or are you just very judgmental?

#89 – I love to workout.  Every day I curl two pints of Ben and Jerry’s right into my pie hole.

#90 – Our children would no doubt look like hideous mutants.

#91 – Get out of my dreams…and into my pants.  No, wait!  My car!  Sorry, I always screw up that song.

#92 – Do you have a photo of your mother?  I’d like to know up front whether or not you’ll still be bone-able in twenty years.

#93 – Are you a member of PETA?  Good, because I’m one dirty animal that needs to be saved.

#94 – I look much better in my gimp mask.  Trust me.

#95 – Baby, you should stop smoking.  You’re hot enough already.

#96 – Where are your friends?  Before I date you I need to know you are the hottest one in the batch.

#97 – I can haz vagina?

#98 – McDonald’s on me baby.  Your choice of one item on the value menu, or you can have a Happy Meal but I get to keep the toy.

#99 – Maybe I’m a frog.  Maybe I’m a prince.  You’ll never know until you kiss me, girl.

#100 – I’m the lead singer in my boy band.

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50 Best Pickup Lines

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Hey 3.5 readers.  Did you know that I am an expert pickup line writer?  I can’t use them myself, unless I use them all on Video Game Rack Fighter, but here are some pickup lines that, well, I can’t tell you if they will work or not.

If you are feeling adventurous, feel free to use them, though my lawyer advises the Bookshelf Battle Blog will take no responsibility for any injuries, physical, mental or otherwise, that you sustain due to using them:

#1 – Hey baby.  I have a 401K.  Bask in my financial responsibility.

#2 – I’m a time traveler sent here from the future to get all up in dat phat ass.

#3 – Wanna play hide the pickle?  No, really, I’m talking about a cucumber that was soaked in brine for an extended time period.

#4 – There’s a hamster in my pocket.  Want to pet it?

#5 – Are you from Heaven?  Because I need an angel to save me.  No seriously, I’m a depressed meth addict without a job or a place to stay and I really need you to save me baby.

#6 – Can I buy you a drink and/or possibly multiple drinks?  How much alcohol do you need to ingest in order for me to appear remotely attractive?

#7 – I made a sex tape once.  Critics called it “the best comedy of the year.”

#8 – I fart.  You fart.  Let’s fart together.

#9 – Damn baby are you a whale because that is one back I’d like to hump.

#10 – Baby, what’s your sign?  Mine’s vagitarious.

#11 – Care for some cunnilingus?  I’ve got my own miner’s helmet with the flashlight built in.  Perfect for spelunking.

#12 – Your face makes me believe anything is possible.  Do you think us rubbing our nasty bits together would be possible?

#13 – Do you believe in love at first sight or should I walk by you three trillion more times?

#14 – My mom’s with her bridge club so I have the apartment all to myself tonight.

#15 – There’s a party in my pants and you’re the guest of honor.  Get in there and get your cake, girl.

#16 – Arr!  I be a pirate and I claim yon booty for me, arr!

#17 – Let me just put it in for a minute thirty.  Pretend I’m a hot pocket and you’re a microwave.

#18 – I do laundry.  I will wash that outfit and press it after you leave it all over my floor tonight, girl.

#19 – Let’s get married right now and figure out if we like each other tomorrow

#20 – I just went to Taco Bell and I’ve got about a half hour until my butt explodes.  Let’s do this thing, baby.

#21 – I promise I have no STDs.  Literally no woman has ever touched my penis, so it is completely safe.

#22 – I always light a scented candle after I let one rip.

#23 – Why haven’t you made my dinner yet?

#24 – Baby take a ride in my Toyota Corolla.

#25 – I would like to take you for a drive in my weird looking 1970s era, non-descript white van.

#26 – All my ex-girlfriends told me that it was them and not me.  I felt that was really big of them to be able to admit their personal failings.

#27 – What’s your sign?  “Open for Business” hopefully.

#28 – Am I really that ugly or am I just abstract?

#29 – So, do you live around here?  No, seriously, can you draw me a map to your house and write down what times you are sleeping?

#30 – I do magic!

#31 – Have you met my ventriloquist dummy?

#32 – I think there’s a coin behind your ear…

#33 – Pull my finger.

#34 – Do you twerk?  Because I know a class that can teach you…

#35 – I look fabulous when I’m covered in cheese whiz.

#36 – Hey look!  Two boobs, no waiting!

#37 – Do you want to see my impression of a motor boat?

#38 – Would you care to see my lair?

#39 – Free mustache rides!

#40 – Free discount gynecology exams!

#41 – Hello.  I’m Donald Hump.  Want to make my penis great again?

#42 – I’d love to take you on a romantic vacation but my parole officer says I’m not allowed to leave the state.

#43 – They broke the mold when they made you, but I’d love to fix that mold and make another you, you know, one that I could just feel up and not have to listen to her babble or put up with her bullshit or anything.

#44 – You.  Me.  A hot tub and a vat of orange marmalade.  No, you can’t know what the orange marmalade is for.  I don’t even know what it is for.  I’m just improvising as I go along, baby.

#45 – Pardon me, ma’am but are those yours or did you steel with two of LeBron James’ game balls?

#46 – Eh, come on.  If it isn’t me it’s just going to be some other asshole.

#47 – Do you like my beard?  I drew it with a magic marker.

#48 – I have money.  Lots of money.  Just take my word for it.  No, you can’t look at my bank records.  Where’s the trust?

#49 –  Of all the babes in this bar, you are the hottest one that I just happen to be sitting next to.

#50 – I just took a breath mint so I’m good to go.

 

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Toilet Gator – Chapter 5

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Like some kind of odd, six legged monster, the trio hobbled their way down a side street and onto the main campus of Sitwell Community College. It was a cool Spring night and students were bustling about, posting trivial nonsense on their Lifebox pages and getting offended over anything and everything.

“Brit,” Paul said as he huffed and puffed. “Where the hell are we going?”

“Beta Zeta Theta,” Britney replied.

“The sorority house?” Paul asked.

“All the other buildings are locked down for the night,” Britney said. “It’s our only shot.”

“They’ll never let him shit there,” Paul lamented.

“Why?” Britney asked.

Chad perked up and burped. “Because I totally nailed seventy-five percent of them and never called any of them back! Woot woot! Party in Chaddy’s pants, y’all!”

“Oh God,” Britney said as she caught a whiff of Chad’s silent but deadly blast. “That smells like a party no one’s going to anytime soon, trust me.”

“Don’t hate the player, babe,” Chad said. His stomach gurgled, he heaved, and the trio stopped. Chad shook his head. “False alarm.” The trio moved on.

“Only seventy-five percent?” Britney asked. “You’re showing restraint as you enter decade two of your quest for an associate’s degree.”

“Nah baby,” Chad said. “It’s cuz the other twenty-five percent were straight up uggos! Chad don’t do no dogs, baby! Woof, woof, arr arr arrrrrwoooooo!”

The trio passed all sorts of student groups. The peaceniks were strumming banjos under a tree. The cool kids were smoking joints. The nerds were playing an elaborate, card based roleplaying game involving dragons, swords, and ill-tempered elves.

“Britney!” Chad yelled.

“I’m here,” Britney said.

“Britney,” Chad said as he farted loudly. “I want you to know I have learned the error of my ways.”

“Whatever, Chad,” Britney said.

“No, really baby,” Chad said. “When I told you that I’d love you forever and then walked right on over to Jenny Sinclair’s room to get a handy that was totally uncool of me. Way, way uncool.”

“It’s all in the past,” Britney said.

“It wasn’t even a good one!” Chad said. “Her hand was all dry and calloused! And she had a bottle of lotion sitting there right there on the nightstand and I nudged my head toward it but she didn’t take the hint so the whole time I was like, ‘This must be like what it feels like to stick your junk inside a tube of sandpaper.’”

Britney sighed. “Just try not to speak.”

Chad ignored the advice. “Babe, if I live through this, I want you to take me back and I swear I’ll be a better man.”

“Not happening,” Britney said.

“Please?” Chad asked.

“Never,” Britney answered.

“Pretty please?” Chad asked.

“No,” Britney replied.

The scene became way more crowded as the trio reached the center of the campus. There, a massive rally was underway. On a prefabricated stage, a young woman wearing thick glasses, a butch haircut, combat boots and a Che Guevara t-shirt was shouting furiously to the crowd.

Britney spotted the banner hanging above the speaker’s head. It read: “The Everything is Super Offensive and Racist and Sexist So Don’t Invade My Safe Space Without a Trigger Warning or Else You Are Literally Hitler Rally.”

“Oh my God,” Britney said. “I forgot that was tonight.”

“It’s the seventh one this month,” Paul said. “After awhile, you lose track.”

“Everything is super offensive and racist and sexist!” the speaker shouted into a bullhorn.

“What about flowers?” a random member of the crowd asked.

“Sexist!” the speaker shouted. “Men try to give them to us to distract us from the fact that they are all scumbag perverts trying to rule our lives because they think their penises give them a God given right to do so!”

“Don’t say, ‘God’ please!” a second crowd member said. “As an atheist, any reference to a deity offends me.”

“I’m sorry!” the speaker shouted into her bullhorn.

“It’s cool,” the atheist said. “Just stay woke.”

“But does everyone see how we are all discriminatory piles of garbage without even realizing it?” the speaker asked. “Like I said, ‘everything is super offensive and racist and sexist!”

“What about pizza?” a third member of the crowd asked.

Without even taking a second to think about the question, the speaker launched into an angry tirade. “Pizza is one of the most ethnically discriminatory foods imaginable. Think about all the hard working Italians who came to this country and put so much hard work and labor to build our cities and infrastructure and how do we repay them? By culturally appropriating their cuisine. It should be a hate crime punished by death if you eat a piece of pizza without showing proof that you are a person of Italian ancestry. If you are not Italian and you eat pizza anyway, then you are literally worse than Hitler!”

“That’s true,” a fourth member of the crowd said. “My Dad eats burritos all the time and he isn’t even Mexican and I’ve always felt he’s literally worse than Hitler.”

Britney, Paul and Chad worked their way through the crowd, bumping into protestors left and right as they tried to pass through.

“What about staplers?” a fifth member of the crowd asked.

“What?” the speaker asked through her bullhorn.

“Staplers,” the protestor asked as she pantomimed using a stapler with her hand. “You know, the thing you keep on your desk to attach pieces of paper together.

“Oh!” the speaker said. “Staplers are by far the most offensive of all office products. I mean, why are we trying to bind pieces of paper down when pieces of paper, just like people, shouldn’t be tied down. If you use a stapler then you better start goose-stepping yourself out of here because you are literally worse than Hitler!”

The crowd cheered and clapped.

“And who decided that pieces of paper have to be white, anyway?” the speaker asked. “We’re all so used to writing on white pieces of paper with black pens, but why can’t pieces of paper be black and pens be white? Everyone in the office supply industry should drop whatever they are doing and address this injustice of epic proportions but they won’t because they’re all literally worse than Hitler!”

More applause. The trio had almost reached the edge of the crowd and were about to break free when Paul had to go and open his mouth.
“The ink,” Paul said.

The crowd gasped. The speaker looked toward Paul and raised her bullhorn to her mouth. “Excuse me?”

Paul coughed into his hand to clear his throat. “Umm…the ink?”

Britney closed her eyes and winced. “Damn it Paul, now is not the time!”

Chad burped and farted in unison.

“What about it?” the speaker asked.

“In order to make paper black, you’d have to dip it in a black dye,” Paul said. “That would not be cost effective and also a waste of precious resources. Further, white paper is one of the most easily recycled materials, but if the paper is covered with ink then that makes it more difficult to recycle, thus generating unnecessarily damage to the environment.”

A quiet hush consumed the crowd. Everyone stared at the trio.

“What have you done, Paul?” Britney asked. “What have you done?”

Paul swallowed hard. “I’m so sorry.”

The speaker’s nostrils flared. She gritted her teethed and seethed with rage. “He exercised independent thought! Get him!”

Chad hurled his guts all over the grass, but before he could wipe off his mouth, he was being dragged across campus but his friend and ex. Over a hundred irate protestors were in hot pursuit, shaking their fists and hurling expletive laden threats sprinkled with the words “tolerance” and “understanding.”

“You and your big mouth,” Britney said.

“I said I was sorry!” Paul cried.

“My feelings were hurt beyond repair!” a sixth random protester shouted. “I’ll suffer from post-traumatic stress syndrome for the rest of my life now!”

“I’m sorry!” Paul shouted back to the random protester with alleged PTSD. “Your feelings are valid and I was inconsiderate!”

“What about me?” a seventh random protester yelled. “I’ll need to pet a therapy dog and stay within the lines of my therapy coloring books for the next six months before I begin the healing process over this!”

“I’m sorry!” Paul shouted back. “I’ll buy you some crayons, I swear!”

“Come back here!” the speaker shouted into her bullhorn. “Making me run is offensive to me because I don’t identify as a runner and that makes you literally worse than Hitler!”

The trio reached the entrance to the Beta Theta Zeta sorority house. The front door was locked, but through the glass they could see a blonde sitting at the front desk, bebopping her head back and forth as she listened to music through a pair of earbuds in her ears.

“Oh thank God, it’s Lilly!” Britney said as she banged on the door. “I have English Lit with her. Lilly! Lilly, let us in!”

Lilly was too far into her jams to pay attention to the door. She mouthed the words to Stank Daddy’s latest single and swayed her head back and forth. “Stank Daddy in the house, gonna smack a bitch…”

Paul turned his head and died a little inside as the crowd of unruly protestors drew near. Somehow, they’d managed to get ahold of flaming torches and pitchforks.

“Incoming social justice warriors!” Paul shouted as he joined Britney in banging on the door. “For the love of God, Lilly, let us in!”

Chad farted, then pulled out his cellphone. “I got this.”

The drunk thumbed through his contacts, then handed the phone to Britney.

“Her too?” Britney asked as she pushed a button on the phone marked, “Hot Blonde, Decent Face, OK Ass.”

“Yup,” Chad replied.

“You’re a pig,” Britney said as she waited for Lilly’s phone to ring.

“I know,” Chad said.

Lilly’s voice came through on Chad’s phone. “Squee! O-M-G Chad, you finally called me back!”

Britney mustered up all of her lung capacity and shouted into the phone, “Let us in, bitch!”

Lilly looked at the front door. She spotted the trio and the incoming unruly mob. She hit a button under her desk.

The door buzzed open. Paul, Britney and Chad ducked into the sorority and shut the door just in time to watch one protestor after another slam themselves up against the glass.

“I am offended by this!” a seventh random protestor said.

“Glass is offensive!” an eighth random protestor said. “It allows me to see who victimized me and ruined my life with inappropriate speech but doesn’t allow me to kick their ass. Whoever invented glass is literally worse than Hitler.”

The speaker pushed her way through the crowd and tried the door handle. The door was locked once more. She lifted up her bullhorn. “Sorry everyone. It looks like we won’t be able to rip those three limb from limb and bathe in their blood tonight. Everyone go home, get some sleep, and meet back here tomorrow morning for the anti-violence rally.”

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Search Engine Optimized Poet – Nude Photos of Kim Kardashian

:::Bongo Drum Beats:::

Hey there all you hep cats and hep kittens. Come on down to the East Randomtown Java Bean, where the poets always stink and the cups are never clean.

Next on the mic is the one and only Search Engine Optimized Poet…the only rhyme-smith whose beats bring in the web searchers’ feets, ya dig?

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Kim K!  Whoa, Kim K!

Your search for her butt brought you this way.

A corpulent derriere that chases the blues away

And leaves you without anything left to say.

Hooray!  It’s what I say when I see an increase in my 401K.

How do I open up one of those accounts anyway?

I must find out today.  Or maybe tomorrow.

Is there a way to cure my depression?  My source of everlasting sorrow?

Go!  To your favorite place to eat.

Where is the closest restaurant that I can walk to with my feet?

Heat.  How warm is the weather?

Yikes.  To my computer I am attached with a tether.

Feather.  What kind does an ostrich have on its back?

“That’s whack.”  People used to say that in 1994.

Hey!  Is someone knock, knock knocking on my back door?

I really should wash my dirty kitchen floor.

To my bucket, what is the very best soap that I can pour?

I adore…Adele but I can’t pick which song of hers I like more.

Shore.  How long will it take to swim there?

Is it possible to survive an attack from an angry bear?

There!  That’s the end of this artistic rant.

And now your demand for nude photos of Kim Kardashian is what I will grant.

If you desire to see the most gigantic butt in the world, then pop open a beer.

Put up your feet and don’t forget to click here.

 

 

 

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Things That Really Frost My Ass – The Beach, Defective Pistachios, Itches In Bad Places

By: Uncle Hardass, Official Bookshelf Battle Blog Grumpy Old Man Correspondent

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Hello degenerate 3.5 readers.

Still working on your writing careers I see?  Good for you.  You know, I just wrote a poem.  Let me know what you think:

Roses are red.

Violets are blue.

Get your ass a job at the salt mines.

Yes, I’m talking to you.

Ah, but we all know you won’t.  That’s ok.  Just keep being a major disappointment to your parents.  I don’t have time to complain about your lack of a work ethic anyway, because I have the following complaints instead:

#1 – The Beach 

Do you know some slack jawed buffoon who, every summer, walks around like a schmuck saying, “I love the beach!”  Well, do the world a favor and slap that idiot about eighty or ninety times in the face with a wet noodle, will ya?

Holy crap sandwich, how I hate the beach.  It’s hot.  It smells.  It’s filled with assholes who are just sitting around like a bunch of fat, bloated iguanas, splayed out under the hot sun burning themselves to a crisp because they think getting tan will somehow make them look better.  I’m sorry, but tanning doesn’t remove ugly.  If you were ugly before, you’ll be ugly after.

Here’s an important quote to remember:

“Well, I thought you were ugly before but now I really want to have sex with you now that you sat out on the beach and got burnt to a crisp all day like a stupid dumbass.”

– Literally No One Ever

And who wants to swim in the open ocean anyway?  Really.  Who wants to put their bare feet down in sand they can’t see.  Sand filled with God only knows what.  Used hypodermic needles.  Pinchy crabs.  Snappy lobsters.  Sea lice.  Sea cucumbers.  Sea horses.  Whale shit.  Narwhal boogers.  Seal urine.  Chopped up pieces of mobsters who turned stool pigeon.  The ocean is one giant, disgusting shit stew and you don’t want to be one of those morons who jumps into it, trust me.

Nothing good ever happened at the beach and nothing ever will.

#2 – Having An Itchy Butt Hole

You ever get a real deep itch, about twenty thousand leagues below the surface of your butt crack?  Damn, those itches get in there deep.  And let’s face it.  There’s no way to get rid of it other than to take out your pointer finger and point it straight up the deepest, darkest part of your nether regions.

The thing I want to know is why is it not socially acceptable to do this in public?  I mean, seriously people, it’s 2017 for crying out loud.  Itches are a normal bodily function and a man ought to be able to scratch himself wherever, and whenever, the mood to scratch strikes.

By the way, I’m no sexist.  Women ought to be allowed to scratch their lady business whenever and wherever they want too.  That’s right.  Your old Uncle Hardass is a virtual Gloria Steinem.

#3 – Defective Pistachios

Kids, I love a good bag of pistachios.  They’re the best food because you work up a sweat eating them, what with having to break them open and throw away the shells and all.  But I hate it when I get a shell that won’t open.  Sometimes the shell completely covers the pistachio and there’s no way to open it.  Or, sometimes there’s like a little tiny opening but I can’t get in there.  (Ahem.  That’s what she said.  I hear you kids like that joke, so there you go.)

I always collect all of the defective pistachios, put them in a plastic cup, then take them back to the store and demand a refund equal to the amount of pistachios I was not able to eat.  I mean, I’m not a greedy son of a bitch.  I don’t want the full cost of the bag.  I did eat most of them, after all.  I just don’t think I should be charged for defective nuts.  This isn’t Communist Russia, after all.  If people have to keep paying for unbreakable nuts then it’s like we lost the war.

#4 – That I Still Have to Buy Batteries and Keep Them Around

I’m old as shit and even I think this is ridiculous.  Why can’t everything, from my TV remote control to that automatic dildo my ex-wife Gertie left behind that I swear I do not use whatsoever, just be plugged into the wall and charged?

Maybe it’s because…

#5 – Charging Cables Are Either Lost or They End Up Tied Up Together Like Spaghetti.

I swear, these technology companies make a mint off the fact that I’m a doddering old bastard who can’t keep track of his charging cords, so I have to constantly buy new ones.  Plus, if I throw them in a drawer in an effort to keep them safe, they end up looking as if a bunch of gnomes snuck into the drawer and tied them all together.  “WTF?” as the whippersnappers say.

CONCLUSION

Those are the five complaints on my mind lately, 3.5 dummies.  If you have anything that frosts your ass, leave it in the comments, or better yet, get a job and stop sponging off the system, you lousy layabouts.

 

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Top Ten Warning Signs Your Boyfriend Might Be a Mime

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Ah, mimery.  Truly, the worst of all art forms, ranking even lower than bedazzling.

What is a mime anyway?  A mime is a French clown except without the horn to honk, or the balloon animals or the big red nose.  He’s just quiet and just pretends to do whatever he is doing rather than actually do it, kind of like how I pretend to write a professional blog.

Could you be dating a mime?  From BQB HQ in fabulous East Randomtown, here are the Top Ten Warning Signs Your Boyfriend Might Be a Mime:

#10 – Wins all fights by pretending to be trapped inside an invisible box.  If you demand that he comes out to face you, he just pounds on the air as if it is a barrier.  If you yell at him, he just points to his ear and acts confused, like he can’t hear you.

#9 – Plays on your sympathies by putting his hands up to his eyes and pretending like he’s crying.

#8 – So much white pancake makeup left on the pillow.

#7 – Draws happy and/or sad faces over his face to reflect his mood.

#6 – Broke character once and said something.  Report him to the International Association of Mime Standards.

#5 – You think he goes to work everyday, but he just stands in the middle of the living room, pretending to bang an invisible nail into an invisible board with an invisible hammer.

#4 – He got in a fight with invisible muggers once.  He tried to protect himself.  He pretended to put up his dukes, but ended up getting his ass kicked by an invisible foot.

#3 – He’s cheap to feed.  He just sits at the table and pretends to eat an invisible meal with invisible cutlery.

#2 – Acts surprised over everything, usually by opening his eyes and mouth wide.

#1 – You came home early one day and caught him in bed humping the air.  You are now baffled.  I mean, he was humping the air, so there was nothing there, but then again, if he is a mime, and he was pretending to hump an invisible woman, then he was totally cheating on you.  Mimes are such jerks.

 

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Toilet Gator – Chapter 4

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“Unggggghhh…”

Chad moaned and groaned as Britney and Paul rolled him over.

“Do you feel any better?” Britney asked.

Chad responded with a deep, baritone belch. “BRAAAAP!”

The music had been cut. No one was dancing anymore. Everyone stood around, staring at the scene that was unfolding before their eyes.

Paul locked his arms underneath Chad’s armpits and helped his pal stand up. “Come on, man. You gotta walk it off.”

Beads of sweat dripped from Chad’s forehead. He looked dizzy. His knees wobbled. It became clear Paul wouldn’t be able to hold the patient by himself, so Britney inserted herself underneath Chad’s right arm, while Paul took the left.

“I love you guys so much,” Chad said in the midst of a stupor. “Really. I don’t say that enough.”

Paul patted Chad on the back. “I love you too, buddy.”

Chad looked to Britney, eagerly waiting for a response.

“Only as friends,” Britney said.

“Aww,” Chad lamented.

“We’re never getting back together, Chad,” Britney said.

“Aww, but baby…”

Chad’s protestations were interrupted by a loud stomach gurgle, followed by an unceremonious hurl all over the dance floor.

“Oh God,” Chad said as he came up for air and wiped chunks of his lunch off of his mouth with his shirt sleeve. “Guess there was an aftershock.”

“Come on,” Britney said. “We need to get you to a…”

Almost as if on cue, a foghorn style gas explosion bursted out of Chad’s rear end. The smell was followed by a terrible sight. Britney’s jaw dropped as she noticed the backside Chad’s once pristine blue jeans had turned a disgusting shade of brown.

“…bathroom!” Britney shouted.

Chad went delirious. His head slumped to one side. He could barely keep his eyes open. “Chaddy wants sleepy.”

“No,” Britney said as she and Paul maneuvered Chad through the packed frat house. “No sleepy for Chad now.”

“Move it!” Chad shouted. “Out of the way, people! We’ve got a sick man, here!”

As the trio approached the bathroom, they found a long line that was at least twenty five people deep.

“Outta the way!” Paul shouted.

A horrendously dressed hipster, complete with an obnoxious fedora, sweater vest, dirt beard and Buddy Holly glasses stood at the back of the line. He flipped when he saw Chad being hurried past everyone who was waiting.

“Hey!” the hipster shouted as he pulled a pair of earbuds out of his ear. “You can’t just cut everyone!”

“Back off, you Justin Timberlake wannabe bitch!” Britney shouted.

“No!” the hipster cried. “I’ve been standing in this line for an hour!”

“Look,” Paul said. “I’ve got a dude that’s blowing up here. Just shut up and listen to your boy band.”

The hipster pushed the pause button on his phone’s music player. “It’s post developmental fifth wave funk with just a dab of East European experimental tribal ska, I’ll have you know.”

Chad burped and farted at the same time. “The Spazenbrau wants out!” Chad shouted. “Oh for the love of God and all things holy, the Spazenbrau wants out!”

“Mother of God!” Paul cried. “It’s coming out of both ends!”

“Why is this line so long?” Britney asked.

“You didn’t hear it from me, but I totes heard a rumor that Jeff Bixby is totally finger banging Sarah Leominster in there,” the hipster said.

Britney rolled her eyes. “Come on. We need to find another bathroom.”

“Hey man,” Paul said to the hipster. “Do you know where the nearest bathroom is?”

The hipster pushed his glasses up his nose with one finger. “I do know of many other bathrooms, but I doubt you have ever heard of them.”

“BLEAAAAHHH!” Chad projectile vomited all over the hipster’s face, coating the ultra trendy weirdo with a heaping helping of sticky goo.

The trio took off, but a Goth girl all in black stopped by to offer the hipster a napkin.

“Thanks,” the hipster said as he wiped off his glasses.

“No problem,” the Goth girl replied. “Looks like you got blasted pretty good there.”

“Yeah,” the hipster said. “Say, do you want to get a locally sourced, gluten free, artisanal vegan scone at a co-op owned cafe sometime?”

“I would,” the Goth girl said. “But I am already promised to Azaglotz, Dark Lord of the Sadistic Realm.”

The hipster popped in his ear buds and unpaused his music. “Damn it. The hot ones are always taken.”

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Three Weeks of Toilet Gator Sundays

Welcome back to Toilet Gator Sundays, truly the best feature of any blog out there.  Does the Huffington Post have Toilet Gator Sundays?  I think not.

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