The bass player: a poorly-communicated deal with The Devil to become a rock god. The band never tells you where the after party is, they always make you room with the drummer (or road crew), and you only get the "practice" groupies.
It lowers chances of prostate cancer? My brother is currently watching Rampage on Netflix with his girlfriend. She does not looked pleased.
My guess to her displeasure is because they are watching a stupid, worthless, boring and nihlistic film that not only kills time, but beats it to death with a rock while making its family watch. I do not care for Rampage. It is now in my top 10 most hated films of all time.
speaking of masturbation and bass playing... I'm spending my day off trying to learn the guitar solo to Hotel California on the bass. Why? I dunno. I can only masturbate so many times. These strings aren't as bendy. I should've learned guitar.
No, seriously his complaints were blue balls and wet dreams (or aching in his testicles and weekly nocturnal emissions as he told me). He also did say premature ejaculation, but he doesn't have intercourse and doesn't masturbate, so I have no idea how he came to this conclusion. I felt really bad for the guy. He was convinced that there was something significantly wrong with him.
Dream woman: "Ugh, really?! That's it?! You can't even last in your own fantasies? Fuck it, I'm out of here."
How is it possible that the night I decide to stay at work late to catch up there is NO ONE on gchat? Not ok. Someone needs to come amuse me right away.
She's now working (or has worked in the last few months) at a brothel in Nevada. Some fat radio DJ in my town went out there and fucked her around Valentines Day.
Man, I made a delicious cassoulet for dinner tonight, but it just doesn't taste as good when eating it out of Tupperware in a break room. I hate eating dinner at work.
I went on a date tonight with an Israeli interning in Madrid. He cooked me dinner. We watched a movie. I'm super into him. It went splendidly. He invited me to stay the night. So of course, I came "home". Fuck me.
I heard about it first here, but today I met a real life person who thinks that his blood type determines what kinds of food he can and cannot eat. He's O+, so he switched from beer to wine. Oh, the people you meet at the dog park.
You should have told him you were part Palestinian. He would have 'invaded' you immediately. Just thought I'd help.