I fucked an amputee…

Last weekend was wilder than a jaguar on crack with its cock into a toaster.
A friend of mine, James, was holding a little B.B.Q. house-warming type shin-dig and invited me along (I very much think he regrets that decision now). I’m not entirely sure why he invited me because we don’t know each other that well, and anybody who does know me, knows it’s better not to invite me to these occasions, regardless he invited me.

I was meant to be there at around 5pm. I showed up at 11.30 in police custody.

I was meant to bring a house warming gift. I threw up in his shoes and punched his friend.

I was meant to help him get into some girl he likes. I fucked her to prove I could then fucked her amputee sister to win £50.

Let me explain. You see I was planning on showing up and being civil as I so often do… However circumstance prevented it. I just so happens that an old ex-girlfriend was in town, so I decided to go meet her, I don’t really know why I did, but I guess I don’t really have to since my cock made that decision for me, as it does with most decision which relate to vaginas.

Anyway, I went out to meet her and all went well, and we’re meeting again next week. I wasn’t entirely drunk when she left and it was only 7.30 and I don’t arrive at parties at 7.30 as far as I’m concerned if a party ends before 4a.m. it’s not a fucking party, so I had a few drinks on my own…

Untill I met some Americans. Now, the Americans fucking love us Irish and it’s pretty much mandatory that we leach the fucking shit out of this one way relationship. And so, like a 13 year old Japanese school girl taking advantage of elderly perverts through the medium of used underpants and up-skirt videos I pounced. They bought me so much fucking drink I went fucking blind. Who would have known that watching Irish people drink is like a fucking Olympic sport to Americans? I was not fucking complaining.

I don’t quite remember how this next part happened, but the bar got shut down… I’m sure I and a rather rowdy crowd of Americans were responsible somehow but I really can’t remember how.

And so, we took to the streets and like freshly liberated Guantanamo inmates breathing fresh air for the first time we threw up, en mass, all over the street, and then all over a police car, then all inside the police car, and a more beautiful sight I haven’t seen since.

The police dropped the Americans off at their hotel. They were actually quite nice about the incident, although, I “should have known better” according to P.C. Jim Davies, or whatever the fuck his name was, who decided to drop me home, needless to say, I lied about where my home was, and told him the address of my friends house.

When we got there, the B.B.Q. had expanded and there were a few smokers standing outside the front door and you could see some people round the side drinking.

“Are you sure this is your house?” He asked, to which I replied,

“Why yes fine sir, I am most sure that this establishment is my home, you may drop me off here sir and I shall trouble neither yourself nor these streets any more with my jovial antics, and here is a tuppence tip for your fine services this eve!” Which translates roughly to “Course, thus is..my?….. house… I KNOW WHERE I LIBE!!!!” (I was still quite drunk, and a little drowsy.)

After a brief conversation at the door between James and the nice policeman I was allowed in on the condition that James wouldn’t let me out of his sight. This is no small task, but neither James nor the policeman though this would be an issue, as both of them thought I’d be passed out in an hour… How wrong they were…

When the policeman had left James escorted me through the hall and up the stairs as quickly as he could to prevent me being seen by his lovely presentable friends, to which I took great offence, I believe my exact words were,

“James! No! James! Look at me! James! FUCK YOU! What? What is it? Am I not fancy enough to be around your friends!? I can be fancy James! Want me to be fancy?! I’ll wear a fucking doily and drink tea and talk about the establishment and lick bums James! Is that what you want James!!!!”

It was at this point that James’ shoes were to become the victims of an oncoming barrage of Technicolor fluids which would make a great excursion from my stomach to my mouth and inevitably into James’ shoes.

On completing the arduous task of vomiting all over my friends household I decided I had become sober enough to join the party, so I cleaned up and went downstairs to chat, I was talking to the girl James wanted into, and for a good 15 minutes straight some long haired hippy mother fucker who dressed almost entirely in fucking hemp was staring at me, needless to say I initiated a confrontation, only to find out, after punching him, that he had a lazy eye, sounds cliche, but this is my life. I was nice enough, I apologised and helped him clean up his bloodied face and we’re good friends now. In so much that I didn’t do any of that he hates me.

Anyway, James’ supposed woman to be, Jennifer, was quite impressed by my awesome face breaking skills and we fucked in James’ bed, I felt that if I were to betray him I should at least do it with a degree of class.

This is where we get to the fun part of the story. After fucking she introduced me to her sister…

This was awkward for a number of reasons, the first being that I offered her a hand shake, regardless of the fact she had no arms or legs, the second being that 10 minutes later I did the same thing drunkenly thinking she was somebody else. We did not get off to a good start. Inevitably my male friends started joking about how little Nancy No Legs wouldn’t fuck me if I were the last man on the planet. Needless to say I took this as a challenge and a bet was made, all my male friends chipped in raising a total of £50 if I fucked her I got it, if I didn’t I would be left with neither pride nor dignity.

Truth be told after I got talking to her she was actually quite interesting and I kinda wish I’d talked to her sober and not fucked her for money, but alas, this is life. As it turned out, she had climbed various mountains and on one trip she ended up having to be rescued after getting lost or some shit like that and for some reason (I can’t remember what) that had to take her arms and legs off. Anyway I feigned sympathy and interest for a while and told her plenty of men would like her (she had no self-esteem, which I’m guessing should be fairly obvious considering the fact she’s no fucking arms or legs) and the conversation went a bit like this:

“I have no arms or legs lol”

“That’s awesome, does that make rolling down hills more or less fun?”

“MOAR LAWLAWLAWLAWLALWLWL!”

“Your sister’s a good lay”

“I’m ugly”

“You are…. LOL”

“That hurt :(”

“Sorry, you’re not really, want to fuck?”

“OK!”

Obviously the conversation was longer and more complex but I can’t be fucked going into the whole thing, and also, I don’t remember most of it.

Anyway, I don’t know if any of you have ever fucked a girl with no arms or legs but there are certain things about doing it that can be a little… strange.

We’ll work backwards, from the end of the sexual experience to the start.

When you’re finished you have the option of stealing her clothes and moving her wheelchair into the hallway… I thought for a good 5 minutes about this. On the one hand it’s hideously cruel, on the other, it’s horrendously funny and a once in a life time opportunity. I’ll let your imaginations decide which option I went for.

When you’re fucking, you feel so much bigger in proportion, it feels like fucking a 2/3 human size bag of potatoes with a face.

Undressing her kinda takes the spark out of the moment a little (well,  that’s assuming that the lack of arms and legs hadn’t done that already.) It feels like you’re 7 again and taking the clothes off of your sister’s Barbie dolls to see what’s under them, except at the end you don’t bite the head off and spit it out the window…

The worst part about the whole experience?

Before we did it she wanted me to take her to the bathroom… I won’t even go into what that was like…

I HATE NIGGERS!!!!!!!!!!!!

Meet the Orsotriaena Medus.

Meet the Orsotriaena Medus.

The Orsotriaena medus, more commonly refered to, in India, as “The Nigger.”

“Orsotriaena is a monotypic genus of the Satyrinae, or the Browns. The genus has only one species, Orsotriaena medus which is found in Asia and Australia. In India, the butterfly has historically been called the Nigger, while in present-day Australia it has been given the name Smooth-eyed Bush-brown.” – Wikipedia

Suck my controversy.

Women of the world: Shut… The… Fuck… Up…

Female propaganda is really starting to piss me off, only 4 weeks into my new relationship and I suddenly find myself realising why I spent 3 months being single. I hate women. Seriously, women bring it on themselves, they deserve to be hated, just for perpetuating a system which instills a feeling that it’s “ok” to be open about your feelings.

Women want too fucking much, they want you to tell them shit about how you feel, and say “oh tell me how you feel, we don’t make assumptions.”

Actually, yes, you do you fucking stupid bitch, all you ever do is assume you’re fat, ugly, stupid, and that we hate you, and know what, we fucking do hate you, you are fat, and you’re certainly fucking stupid. Go cry on myspace and cut yourself you self-absorbed baby oven.

A couple of days ago I came home from the gym, I told my girlfriend how it was, because I like to involve her in my day, and hell, if I’m talking, it means she isn’t, which is always a fucking plus, because women can’t tell stories and pretty much everything and anything they say is pointless, retarded, or annoying. Anyway, following my going through a small portion of my day, she comes off with some snide crap like:
“Being able to make me laugh is so much more important than how much you can bench-press.” No it’s not, shut the fuck up. I can bench press one hundred donkeys seven hundred times, bitch, this fact is far more important to me than my ability to make you laugh. I can make you laugh I just don’t want to because your laugh sounds like the result of somebody rubbing a cheese grater up a castrato’s colon.

Anyway, after this comment, I was fairly certain it was that time of the month, well, in honesty, it was that comment combined with the fact that she just wouldn’t shut the fuck up about inane shit that I need to do about the house, that funnily enough didn’t need doing a day ago, or any day previous to that.

What is it about feeling that anything they say or do during period  cannot be held against them?

You know what guys, don’t buy into that bullshit, everything she does and says can and should be held against her, want to know why? For the simple reason, that while she may feel bad for a couple of days you need to fucking hear about it for the duration of it, AND for weeks after.

It’s a fucking period.
Deal with it.

Real men have them too; I like to call it the “man period” it consists of the space of time during which we need to hear about your period.

We also have a far worse period that you can ever have, it’s called the “ultimate mind-fuck, man period”, it’s basically that part in your life, where you give childbirth (after 3 years of begging us to give up our lives and have a child with you) then we need to hear about it for the fucking rest of our lives.

To top this bullshit off, I invited a few friends round the following day. Well, much to my surprise it seems that women don’t believe believe that having them over while you and your friends play video games is counted as “quality time.”

You know what I say to that? Fuck her! If she wants me to go shopping with her and offer advice on things that I possess no knowledge on (i.e., clothes) and go on hundreds of other inane, dire tasks with her, like seeing her ancient grandmother who watches every episode of night-rider from start to finish when we come round, then she can spend a couple hours on the fucking couch while we sit and play “Blood, Fuck, Stab, Kill 3 – The Fatality of Mutilation.”

What is all this bullshit about how they can admit their wrong and that men should be able to do the same?

First off, they can’t ever admit they’re wrong.
Secondly, men are never wrong, ever.

Published in: on 16/03/2009 at 2:29 am  Comments (1)  
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A list of 30 things I hate.

1., You,
2., Everything you stand for,
3., Women,
4., Pretty much anybody who’s a Liberal,
5., The poor,
6., Blacks,
7., Homosexuals,
8., Whites,
9., Barry Fucking Manilow,
10., Heterosexuals,
11., Eskimos – who the fuck do they think they are?
12., Metrosexuals,
13., Coldplay’s latest album,
14., Your mum,
15., Australia,
16., Every album Coldplay released previous to their latest album,
17., Anybody who listens to Coldplay,
18., Coldplay,
19., Change,
20., Anybody who watches Sex and City and thinks that it’s ok to act like they’re Carry (or whatever that wind-bag-shit-churning-cum-receptical’s name is) in real life,
21., People who call it “Sex in the City” – not that I really give a shit, since the series is equal in value to my last wank which landed all over the carpet because I didn’t have any tissues ready because I was absolutely dying for a wank because I’d been thinking about my girlfriend the whole car journey home and didn’t have the foresight to think “oh wait I’m going to need tissues,” no rather I just pulled my pants down around my ankles and went for it like a doberman on steroids tearing a baby’s face off,
22., Liberals,
23., Being so desperate for a wank that I don’t bother or remember to have tissues at the ready,
24., Jade Goodie,
25., Liberals,
26., George Lucas – because of what he did to Star Wars,
27., George Lucas – because of what he did to Indiana Jones,
28., Harrison Ford – for being the worst actor on the planet, and also for playing a part in the general shit fest that is the Indiana Jones franchise that my idiot girlfriend won’t ever fucking shut up about,
29., People who quote movies or series they know I don’t watch,
30., People,

Published in: on 16/03/2009 at 12:50 am  Comments (1)  
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