Tag Archives: underwater

BQB vs. Monsters – The Best Way to Start Your Day is to Punch a Shark in the Face

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You see a shark.  I see a punchable face.

Hey 3.5 readers.

You all know that I’m a champion yeti fighter, but did you also know that I am an accomplished shark face puncher?

There’s nothing quite like it really.  Very exhilarating.

Every morning I wake up and before I shower or shave or even have a cup of coffee, I leave BQB HQ, swim out into the middle of East Random Lake (East Random Town’s largest body of water) and I punch anywhere between five and seven sharks right in the face.

I’d recommend it, but I can’t, because my attorney advises me not to, you know, because of the 101% virtual certainty that this activity will lead to you being eaten by a shark and being turned into shark poop.

So you know what?  Don’t punch a shark in the face.  Just live vicariously through me, knowing that I’m starting my days by punching many sharks in their respective faces.

Look, I’m putting myself at great personal risk by even telling you this.  Sharks have Internet.  You think they don’t because they’re underwater but they do.  They eat like a hundred people a day so if you do the math, that means they have thousands and thousands of cell phones.

And because the owners of those phones have been turned into shark poop, the sharks are able to use their phones and not pay any Wi-Fi bills until the owners’ plans run out.

I know I only get 3.5 readers but you never know, a shark could see that I am bragging about punching them in their stupid faces and they could get mad and have themselves shipped into big water tanks all the way to BQB HQ for the sole purpose of eating me and turning me into shark poop.

Do you know how hard it would be for me to blog as a BQB shaped piece of poop?

It would not be easy, let me tell you.

So anyway.  That’s how I start every day, 3.5 readers.

How do you start your days?  (Again, hopefully not by punching sharks.  Leave that to a professional, like yours truly.  This blog and its proprietor will not be held liable if you try to punch and/or do anything with or go anywhere near a damn shark).

But seriously, what normal, non-shark punching related things do you do to start your day?

Tell me all about it in the comments.

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A Day in the Life of Douche Shark

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Douche Shark

Hey 3.5 bros.

Wassup? Wass good?  All up on the Bookshelf Battle Blog, my broheims.

Douche Shark here.  Yup. That’s right.  Dr. Hugo Von Science took the DNA of a shark and the DNA of a douche, spliced it all together and boom, you got yourselves a douche-shark-a-rino.

Not so bad being a douche shark though.  I usually wake up about noon, noon and a half, one p.m. at the latest.

I text my she-shark girlfriend that I’m dumping her cuz she got fat then I text a photo of my douche shark junk to a new fine honey she shark I got my eyes on.

Not gonna lie, brosef, lady sharks love a good pic of your shark junk.  I don’t make the rules. Don’t hate the douche shark playa, hate the douche shark game.

Oh and you know what else is good when you text your she-shark? Call her “bae” then drop like 9,229 emojis in there. I like to go all “smiley face, smiley face, smiley face, water pistol, poop with sunglasses.”  She-sharks love that.

Bonus points if you call your she-shark by the wrong name when you text her, bro.

Sure, she’ll be all mad when you’re like, “Wat up, Becky Shark?” and she’s all, “Eff U I’m Susie Shark” but that’s cool you just smooth it over with your talking skills and tell her she must have read it wrong or her phone is busted and shit or something.

So anyway, after I get off the phone with the lady sharks, its time for some nummy nums.  When I get hungry, I like to get myself a green smoothie. It’s good for the earth and my bowels.

Oh and then I follow that smoothie up by devouring at least twenty to thirty beach goers.  Maybe a surfer, maybe a sailor, whatever is there bro, no need to get picky cuz it all goes down the same hole and all comes out the other one if you know what I mean.

Am I right?  Am I right? Come on. Gimmie a high five. Come on bro. Don’t leave a douche shark hanging.

Aw but then after I eat, I gots to set my fantasy football lineup and spent at least three to seven hours telling everyone about how my fantasy football lineup is the best and their fantasy football lineup is the worst.

I can’t help it.  I am just a fabulously sexy douche shark who was blessed by Jesus with the ability to set quality fantasy football lineups.

After the lineup is set, I gots to take fifty nine selfies of myself in a whimsical manner. I take all the photos myself, but I stare my shark eyeballs off to the side so as to fool the dummies looking at my Sharkbook that someone else took the pictures and that I was very busy thinking deep, intellectual thoughts.

Oh speaking of Sharkbook, did I mention that I like to post photos of my green smoothies? Seven or eight will do.  Remember – always post photos of everything you eat or drink on Sharkbook.  Sharks will be very disappointed if you don’t.  Everyone must know about everything you eat at all times.

What else? What else?

Right, so after the selfies I like to head over to the shark gym, do a few curls, work on my bis, my tris, my lats, my delts, my fin.  Remember, its very important to grunt as loud as possible to let everyone in the gym know that you are the one lifting the most weight and therefore your workout is more important than everyone else’s workout.  It just is bro diddly, it just is.  And everyone needs to know it.

After that its off to the shark bar.  I like to smack the she-shark waitress on her tail fin because they like that, you know?  Really, they get disappointed if you don’t do it.

Then I order a frosty brew or two, tip the waitress with any pocket change I happen to have left over, and then I sing obscure karaoke songs until I pass the eff out and have to get dragged out of the bar by the shark police.

Good times, bro. Good times.

So that was a day in the life of a douche shark. Hope you enjoyed it, 3.5 bros. Of course you did.

You’re welcome.  High five!  Whoops, too slow, bro, too slow.

 

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