

I realize there are people out there who could drop anchor in the middle of a Brit. Lit. survey course with the same ease and matter-of-fact satisfaction they would take eating a meatball sub. These are the same people who will come into your room and brag about the size.
"Yo dude, you wouldn't believe the deuce I just dropped. You would think it was the first time I'd clean my colon since last semester. Man, it was sick. An elephant would be concerned if he did what I just did. You got to come check this out, bruh."
To this, I might say something like, "I'm all set."
The same type of person often takes a certain pride that his farts smell "worst than anything you've ever smelled in your entire life." These people won't have the slightest idea of what I'm talking about.
>

While my mother was looking over my shoulder an an AIM conversation:
Mom: "What does LMAO mean?"
Me: "It's an abbreviation"
Mom: "Let's Make An Omelette?"
-Chris F.[upload:2515315:small:right:Your parents' viral video.]
When Gwen Stefani's song "Hollaback Girl" came on, my dad sang what he thought were the words while tapping his fingers and bobbing his head to the beat - "I ain't no Harlem black girl."
-Christine R.
by Dan Gurewitch June 08, 2007




![]() | AMERICAN HISTORY: In 1864, General Sherman marched to the sea, his rifle throbbing and erect. His man-sweat smelling of gunpowder and lust, he penetrated the South… deeper… deeper still. “Scorch my earth,” moaned the South. Sherman’s loins quivered as he killed field after field of luscious, moist livestock, his body shaking with the unspeakable pleasure of destroying the civilian infrastructure. |
![]() | STATISTICS: That night, Brandon went down on Juliette N times. He let NH be the number of times she climaxed, realizing that he could, for any N, consider the ratio NH/N. As N grew larger and larger, faster and faster, Brandon was able to "define" the probability Pr(H) as Juliette’s sexual “limit.” As N approached infinity in the equation Pr(H) = limN --> ∞ (NH/N), Juliette's loins melted into his like the wax of a century-lost love candle. |
![]() | BIOLOGY: Slowly, Charles began to engage in the wild, passionate dance of digestion. He placed the burger in his mouth, masticating, masticating, faster now, his teeth tearing and crushing, his stomach churning with waves of pleasure. Various chemicals (acid, bile, enzymes and water) caressed the complex molecules, their firm yet tender touch reducing them to simple structures blind with desire. His nutrients moaned, submissive slaves to osmosis. Finally, in a volcanic release that shook his naked body, Charles defecated. |
![]() | PHILOSOPHY: Nietzsche thrusted deeper and deeper between the supple legs of Simone de Beauvoir, yelling “Who’s your ubermensch?” Simone lost herself in the heavenly unison of their eager bodies, moaning “Oh, God… oh, God!” as, despite her post-feminist ideology, she made herself flesh under the dominance of the Other’s gaze. “God is DEAD!” screamed Nietzsche, his fingernails digging into her existentialist buttocks as they reached the disillusioning and wholly temporary ecstasy of orgasm. Nietzsche rolled over and lit up a cigarette. “Thus poked Zarathustra,” he said. |






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| First, balance yourself on the tips of your toes and the top of your head. Make sure to spread your legs wide to create a stable base. With your dominant hand, reach down and pleasure yourself. With your non-dominant hand you may grab your thigh, place it on the floor to steady yourself, or entertain your anus, if that’s your thing. | |
| Muscles Worked | |
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Charlie Foxtrot is majoring in sarcasm with a double minor in...