BY Who the Fuck Cares, this is an A7 Original
Amongst the increasingly granular sexual continuum, outcry has emerged from the self proclaimed “pan-sexuals,” who, unlike “traditional” pansexuals, are in fact people who are sexually attracted to wheat and wheat byproducts, such as breads, pastas, and those stupid little pretzels they serve at shitty parties. They claim that the term pansexual is not defining the in a desirable way and that “omnisexuals” have no claim on the term. In the wake of these claims many other new groups have emerged also laying claim to previously defined sexual orientations and have created public support for their redefinitions. Some of these redefinitions include homosexuals, who are attracted to individuals with homologous genes and/or are homogenous mixtures, polysexuals, who are sexually attracted to parrots and cockatoos, but not necessarily macaws, and trigendered individuals, who feel that they must identify themselves as sexual triangles, though there is still dispute on if they are isoceles or equilateral. A third faction is even emerging of exclusively right angled trisexuals.
As the movement gained traction, tension has increased between the tradition and emergent users of these once stable definitions of sexuality, and as more and more disputes emerge, the situation becomes increasingly unstable. The only thing that can bring this strife to an end is the fact that Frank Underwood has wicked sick gay sex with the Russian President in season three while Claire listens from another room.
12 Hours: You’re a Psych major. Or unemployed. Or an unemployed Psych major.
10 Hours: It’s not that bad. Ten hours of sleep is probably even recommended and healthy. Still some piece of shit is going to compain that they got less.
8 Hours: The recommended amount. Two-thirds of your day awake and the other third asleep, a perfect balance. It only took you two Ambiens, three shots of Nyquil and a few bowl rips to actually get to sleep.
6 Hours: Alright, you’re waking up tired but it’s so worth it. You’re definitley going to be the piece of shit that complains at your coworker that got ten hours.
4 Hours: As soon as you wake up, you’re planning out when you can take that nap. That nap is gonna be so worth it. I love that nap. I’m in love in with that nap.
2 Hours: Where’s that coffee? I need coffee. Arabica. Dark magic. French roast. GIVE ME COFFEE. NEED COFFEE.
0 Hours: Where’s that cocaine? I need cocaine. Colombian. Snow. Marching dust. GIVE ME COKE. NEED COKE.
Want to stop hating yourself? Maybe this will help.
1) Don’t cry.
2) Try REALLY hard not to cry
3) Cry Anyway
4) Sniffle for a few hours afterwards
5) Masturbate for a few more hours
6) Wallow in your post masturbatory shame
7) Bust out the Jagermeister
8) Liberally apply Jagermeister to face area
9) Cry again
10) Masturbate again
11) Ignore all calls from friends trying to help you
13) Skip Step 12
14) Pretend to get over it
15) Repeat until you can’t feel.
Volume XLIX Issue II
Think you are smart? Well try these brain teasers and face reality that you aren’t.
1) You’re on a train traveling up a 3 degree incline at 40 miles an hour. The train is decelerating at 2 m/s2, and you the friction coefficient between the trains wheels and the track is .2. How many more miles must you travel before you are safe from capture for the body the police will find in your basement one hour from now?
2) Human bone has a tensile strength of 110 MPa, and for reasons given to you by a shadowy and menacing authority, you must make a cage of bone and lashed together by sinew of unknown origin that is capable of holding 400 kilograms of weight while hung from the top by a leather cord with a diameter of 2 inches. How drunk were you last Saturday, and how do you explain the fact that you are now a chubby chaser?
3) Who is your best friend? Are they really your best friend? Are you suuuuuuuuure?
Volume XLIX Issue I
FAKE AD: Like we really had to tell you
Volume XLVIII Issue X
The other day a friend of mine told me about this thing called the “internet.” She showed me some pictuers of cats, so I guess that was cool, but like, everywhere I looked there were dicks. Like, literally and figuratively, just dicks as far as the eye can see. Someone once told me to cut off my own foreskin, tie it into a noose, drink a gallon of bleach and then hang myself with it while he fucked my mother, sister, and grandmother. My grandmother is dead, so that was particularly upsetting. But then I went back to the cat videos, so I guess it got better from there.
Overall I’d rate the internet:
There was some good stuff and some bad stuff. Also stuff that made me question humanity. And myself. And who my mother is having sex with.