Things your dumb friends post on facebook

Discussion in 'General Chat' started by musicguy, May 10, 2011.

  1. indesertum

    indesertum Senior member

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    i have no idea how you would beat a person with chopsticks. or wtf? shitting gold bricks? also i dont get the alien moon part.
     


  2. acidboy

    acidboy Senior member

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    ^ if you're really really good at stick fighting then you could beat somebody with chopsticks. I think.
     


  3. Eason

    Eason Bicurious Racist

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    [​IMG]
     


  4. indesertum

    indesertum Senior member

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    :embar: maybe i'm just dense
     


  5. tagutcow

    tagutcow Senior member

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    Clearly Eason phailed, as his story didn't cause nearly as much befuddlement as the typical tagut poast in CE.
     


  6. bjornb17

    bjornb17 Senior member

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    I lol'ed
     


  7. Saltricks

    Saltricks Senior member

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    My turn.

    In a relationship, married or not… You should read this.
    Marriage.

    I kicked the door open. The splintering of wood startled my sleeping dog, who ran off to the kitchen. My wife sat there, her eyes wide. She knew that I knew.

    "You were fucking Sandor? You were FUCKING Sandor this whole FUCKING time?" I picked up one of the pieces of wood that had broken off the door frame and threw it at her. She reeled back from the impact, more from shock than from pain.

    She whispered softly, "Why? Why are you doing this?"

    I avoided her question and charged at her. She raised her hands to her face to protect herself, but I knew better than to hit her there. I backhanded her stomach, where the bruises wouldn't show. She coughed up the arugula that she had been eating, and some of it spat out of her mouth as she cried "You are NOT a man!".

    "Oh yeah?" I replied. "OH YEAH?" I pulled down my pants and whipped out my johnson, shriveled from the cold. "What's that then, huh? TELL ME WHAT IT IS!" She fell to the floor her hands to her face, she was weeping. I grabbed her shoulders and shook her. Disgusted by her pathetic cries, I lay my limp penis on the top of her head, victoriously. I didn't love her anymore. I pitied her.

    I drafted a divorce agreement which stated she would get jack shit and scrawled "WHORE" all over it. She glanced at it and started crying again. She tore it up and threw it on the ground which infuriated me. "Stop messing up the house! God, can't you do anything right?" I picked up the pieces of paper but stopped abruptly. "Why am I picking up this shit?" I threw the torn up pieces of paper at her. "There, trash belongs with trash." She sobbed loudly. I went back into the den and played XBOX until I passed out.

    The next day, I came back home to find her writing something at the table. "Why the fuck are you still here? I thought I told you to get the fuck out." She presented me with her paper outlining her terms for the divorce: 50 percent of everything. I threw it back in her face. "Hahaha, you must be fucking kidding...YOU MUST BE FUCKING KIDDING! 50 percent of all the shit I worked hard for while you were fucking that brown motherfucker? You must be fucking kidding." I grabbed her shoulders and moved her over to the kitchen counter and lifted her skirt up. "Is this how he fucked you?" I gyrated my crotch on her cellulite filled ass. " Right here in my house? HUH?". A small voice distracted me. "Daddy? What are you doing to mommy?" It was just the kid. "Get the fuck back in your room." "But daddy..." I threw the toaster at the kid. "ROOM...NOW!" The wife was struggling under my iron grip. "Call the cops honey, call the...blurrrgh" I covered her mouth with my hand. "You better not fucking call the cops, not again you little freeloader..." That's when I heard the sirens. I pushed the wife towards the kid and headed out the back door. "I'll be back for you...both of you." I motioned my finger across my neck. "You better fucking watch yourselves." With that I ran out the backdoor and over the fence into the neighbor's yard. They had a comfortable tree house where I spent the night.

    I woke up the next morning to see that the cops had created a perimeter around the house. "Like that can stop me." I muttered to myself. I used my high vantage point to peer into the back window, where I saw my wife leading one of the cops to the kitchen where she pantomimed the events of the night before. When she got to the part about me bending her over the counter, I noticed the cop pulling his pants down. I read his name tag: "Sandor". They started going at it right there, unaware that I was eyeing them intently, my hands moving down my pants.

    The next three days was the same story. Watching that brown guy pork my wife made me wonder why I had wasted my life on that lying bitch. I decided to take matters into my own hands. Later that night, when Sandor and my wife had gone to bed (MY BED) I snuck into the house. I grabbed my aluminum bat from the garage and slowly made it up the stairs. As I was about to open my bedroom door, the dog started barking. I kicked at it to shut it up, but it was too late. The bedroom door flew open and there was Sandor, armed with a Benelli M4 aimed at my crotch.

    Thinking quickly, I dove to the floor while smacking the shotgun with my bat. A loud rapport followed by a spray of blood filled the air and I looked up from the floor to see my wife fall to the ground, her face contorting in pain. He had killed her. That brown motherfucker had killed her. This filled me with rage as I rose to my feet. "If anyone was going to kill her, it was supposed to be me!" I kicked the shotgun out of his hands and wrestled Sandor to the ground, wrapping my forearms around his neck. I squeezed my arms together tightly, putting pressure on his carotid artery. He went limp.I stood up, wiping the blood off my face. "Look's like joke's on you joker...this looks like a typical case of murder suicide." I picked up my bat off the floor. "Speaking of joker...I guess that makes me the bat man." The bat came down hard on his head, and the smell of shit confirmed I had achieved my task. That was when I noticed my wife was still alive. She was crawling away slowly, leaving a trail of blood behind her. "Ohhh no. You're not getting away from this." I said as I picked her up. That is when my son came out of his room.

    Our son clapped behind us, "Daddy is holding mommy in her arms!". His words brought me a sense of pain. From the bedroom to the sitting room, then to the door, I walked over ten meters with her in my arms. She closed her eyes and said softly; don’t tell our son about the divorce. I nodded, feeling somewhat upset. I put her down outside the door. I retreated back to the neighbor's tree house to sleep for the night.

    I awoke the next morning and entered the house, pretending to be surprised about the gruesome scene surrounding me. One of the cops was interviewing me and I was describing my alibi to him (I told him I was getting a handjob from a streetwalker last night), when my son barged into the conversation. Our son came in and said, "Dad, it’s time to carry mom out". To him, seeing his father carrying his mother out had become an essential part of his life. I left that house in shackles.
    .
    During the criminal trial I was accused of two first degree murders. Evidence taken during the autopsy of my wife, however shed some light on the true nature of the situation. It was not the shotgun shells that killed her, though they apparently helped, but it was a disease that had killed her as she was bleeding out on my front porch. My wife had been fighting CANCER for months and I was so busy with Xbox to even notice. A mistrial was called, and I was acquitted (thank you very much double jeopardy clause).

    The small details of your lives are what really matter in a relationship. Knowing that my wife had cancer would have let me bide my time, letting my wife die slowly rather than rampaging in like a mad man. Now I am free to live my life free, enjoying my mansion, my car, and the money in my bank that I was paid out from my wife's life insurance policy. These things create an environment conducive for happiness and I have to say pretty much bring happiness in and of themselves. Oh, and the kid went crazy and got sent to a sanitarium or something.
     
    Last edited: Oct 19, 2011


  8. musicguy

    musicguy Senior member

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    that is one fucked up story...
     
    Last edited: Oct 19, 2011


  9. Eason

    Eason Bicurious Racist

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    Jesus, Saltricks, just cool it with the misogynistic remarks!
     


  10. deadly7

    deadly7 Senior member

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    I'd be lying if I said I wasn't disturbed by it.
     


  11. acidboy

    acidboy Senior member

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    why. god. why.

    son, you disappoint.
     
    Last edited: Oct 19, 2011


  12. deadly7

    deadly7 Senior member

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    that, mom
    was, mom
    fucking, mom
    stupid, mom
     


  13. Joffrey

    Joffrey Senior member

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    Not slim girl saying on her status, "I used to be fat"
     


  14. Eason

    Eason Bicurious Racist

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    Go on, reply "you still are". Do it. Just 1 second, screen cap, then delete it.
     


  15. HgaleK

    HgaleK Senior member

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    Jesus Christ. I just read Saltricks' story. That's brutal.
     


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