Category: Funny

Let’s get some happy on here

OK, a couple of posts to (hopefully) raise a smile – just as the avalance warning AWOOGAHs outside nigh on the stroke of midnight.

First off, a massive dose of “aaaaaaw, cute!” with this link to a live video feed of some puppies in a basket. I defy you not to keep it open in a spare tab and keep flicking back to it during the day. Awesome.

Secondly, you have to check out Ten Masked Men. A bunch of lunatics in masks who have so far released four cover albums of popular beat combo covers done in a death metal stylee. Best of all, they’re English which automatically makes them better even than Deicide. If slightly less mad than Glen Benton.

Any band which can describe themselves as follows on their myspace page has to have a sense of humour. I’ll leave you with that and a top notch video.

A crack death metal unit was sent to the underground by a musical court for a crime they probably did commit. These men promptly escaped from a maximum security recording studio to the London Underground (fuckin tubes!). Today, still wanted by the musical government, they survive as soldiers of metal tributes. If you know a crap song, and no-one else has covered it, and you can find them, maybe you can hire, Ten Masked Men.

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Good news and good parody

With every bit of news, there’s a flip-side. Thank **** that I’m not in the depths of depression I was four years ago when that **** Bush got another four years. Thank you, thank you the people of America (well, most of you) for voting for change. In fact, for many, voting for a change. Biggest turn out in a gajillion years, it seems.

You have to wonder how things had to get so bad for there to be such a turnout. Or was it simply that the person running against what was effectively Bush Mark 3 (and a psychotic headcase from Alaska) was just so different compared to previous nominees? Young, intelligent, not afraid to rail against the current system and – oh, yes – coloured.

Note, not black. He’s of “mixed race/parentage” yet of course he’ll be billed as being black. Why? Surely he’s half black and half white. As someone mentioned on their blog (sorry – Ive read so many today, I forgot who), how can you decide he’s black? If he had one great great great great great grandparent who was coloured and the rest of his family were all white would that still make him black? Where’s the dividing line? 25%? 12.5%?

And then there’s the simple fact of relevance. As a personal opinion, had I been a US citizen this past week he’d have had my vote regardless of whether he’d been black, white, short, tall, male, female or anywhere in between – as long as his personality and policies were the same. Sad thing is, there will be people who voted either for or against him based purely on his skin colour.

Anyway, it’s a happy time. The Bush ****-up will shortly be at an end (unless he opts to use the next 2 months to change the rules or declare war on Russia to make Sarah Palin happy) and hopefully the US will become a more respected nation.

In the meantime, click the link at the top for a giggle. And no, it’s not offensive. Unless you’re a Daily Mail reader. In which case, **** off.

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Scariest hitched ride ever

Hitchhiking in New Zealand, 2006

I’ve hitchhiked a fair bit – mainly in the UK, mainland Europe and Australia. I’ve never had any real problems aside from perhaps not getting along too well with the person who’s picked me up, or falling asleep (which seems rude, but it’s better than them doing it). Hell, I’ve had some great experiences, such as realising I could actually hold a conversation in French for 20 minutes, or discovering courtesy of the lesbian truck driver who picked me up in Cambridge that Belgium is a lot more relaxed about homosexual marriages.

I hitched a lift in five stages from Sydney to Byron Bay, the last ride of which could have taken me 1000km north of Brisbane had I not been hopping off for the diving. All well and good. But I also have one bad story to tell. Not “bad” bad. I’m still alive and bear no (physical) scars, but this was a weird one.

I was in France some time ago and had been picking up lifts here and there in predominantly short bursts, as is the way near urban areas. After one hour of “thumb out” I had a lift from a guy with two little kids inthe car who drove me to an out-of-town shopping area where I grabbed lunch and walked to the nearest motorway slip. Plenty of traffic. Thumb out. Look friendly (and clean – this is a trick in itself).

It was a hot day and I was wilting. Rucksack to one side of me, sweat soaking into my cap and my skin doing a good impression of the bacon rashers I wished I’d had for breakfast. Eventually, a small car pulled up and the driver smiled at me and waved me to open the door. Score.

I made the usual apology for my French not being any good and asked him if he was going in my direction. I didn’t pay much attention to the fact he was shirtless and wearing shorts. Had I been on a beach or driving down the shops back home in this weather, I’d likely have done the same.

“Yes”, he was going my direction. Fantastic. I shoved my rucksack in the back and clambered into the passenger seat, pausing only to throw my hitching sign over the gay porn mag on the dashboard shelf… hang on.

You know when you see something for a fraction of a second, but it’s burned onto your retinas? This was one of those moments. My brain made sense of what it had seen around the time I started to fasten my seatbelt. And realised those weren’t shorts the guy was wearing, they were underpants. And he seemed too pleased to see me. Ah, ****.

Too late and he’d set off so I just hoped he wasn’t going to show me his willy and ask if I wanted to go back to his place. Conversation was brief as I pretended my French was even worse than it was, and I settled for staring out of the window for some considerable length of time.

This was a good thing because every time I glanced to my left, he was *******.

Only rarely did the little one-eyed pink bit stray outside of his shorts, but once was enough and I started counting the trees we were driving past. In addition, I couldn’t help but ponder about the extra mirrors he had set up. I think they’re designed so you can keep an eye on the kiddies in the back seat in case they try to strangle one another when they’re not busy asking “are we there yet”?

This guy had them (them – more than one) trained on his groin. Oh good grief. I’m a bit of a perv, but come on. Freak.

As the minutes dragged by I also started to notice an odour. Eventually I realised what it was. And I **** you not, people. A smell any self-respecting teenage boy with their own bedroom will recognise. The smell of…

Stale spunk.

I’d have been happier had I not sussed this one out, but it was too late. Breathing through my mouth didn’t help as it made me feel like I was somehow swallowing. My stomach started doing flips, and I just don’t get travel sick.

So… there I am. Sat in a car that smells of dried cum. With a near-naked guy beating off like a nervous monkey. And a stash of magazines featuring muscley young lads in cowboy hats in front of me. Not a situation I ever thought I’d find myself in. And hopefully won’t again.

In fairness, the guy didn’t say or do anything more inappropriate that tugging on his cock while he was driving – and he dropped me off exactly where I asked, which meant I got to my destination ahead of schedule.

But still… the lesson here is to check for gay porn on the dashboard of any vehicle you enter. I suppose this works both ways – if you are gay, I guess it’d be a bonus.

No, it’s not put me off hitching. I’m still keeping my eye out for the fit girl playing with her pussy while she’s driving. She has to be out there somewhere.

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Handy household tips no. 2412

When enjoying the skilled oral attentions of a pretty young lady (col. “getting a blow job“) do not relax and savour the moment too much. If she is to query your rapture with the phrase “Did I just hear you ******* snore?!” it is liable to result in an end of sexual pleasure for that evening, and perhaps some time to come.

[Aside: I love the tags that Zemanta came up with for this post – ranging from “blow job” and “oral” to “Religion and Spirituality” and “Christianity”. I guess church-goers suck a lot of cock.]

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