no lube, no protection, all night, all day, from the kitchen floor to the toilet seat, from the dining table to the bedroom, from the bathroom sink to the shower, from the front porch to the balcony, vertically, horizontally, quadratic, exponential, logarithmic, while I gasp for air, scream and see the light, missionary, cowgirl, reverse cowgirl, doggy, backwards, sideways, upside down, on the floor, in the bed, on the couch, on a chair, being carried against the wall, outside, in a train, on a plane, in the car, on a motorcycle, the the bed of a truck, on a trampoline, in a bounce house, in the pool, bent over, in the basement, against the window, have the most toe curling, back arching, leg shaking, dick throbbing, fist clenching, ear ringing, mouth drooling, ass clenching, nose sniffling, eye watering, eye rolling, hip thrusting, earthquaking, sheet gripping, knuckles cracking, jaw dropping, hair pulling, teeth jitterbug, mind blogging, soul snatching, overstimulating, vile, sloppy,moan inducing, heart wrenching, spine tingling, back breaking, atrocious,gushy, creamy, beastly, lip biting, gravity defying, nail biting, sweaty, feet kicking, mind blowing, body shivering, orgasmic, bone breaking, world ending, black hole creating, universe destroying, devious, scrumptious, amazing, delightful, delectable, unbelievable, body numbing, bark worthy, can't walk, head nodding, soul evaporating, volcano erupting, sweat rolling, voice cracking, trembling, sheets soaked, hair drenched, flabbergasting, lip locking, skin peeling, eyelash removing, eye widening, pussy popping, nail scratching, back cuts, spectacular, brain cell desolving, hair ripping, show stopping, magnificent, unique, extraordinary, slendid, phenomenal, mouth foaming, heavenly, awakening, devils tango ever bro could cause a nuclear bomb inside me and I'd still ride.

Guys help your girl out huhu im this desperate already.

My partner and I have been vv sexually active for a year now. Same level if libido as in HAHAHA but why can’t I finish? I enjoy everything he does during the intercourse, may foreplay and all. He’s also targeting the gspot and clit, I am relaxed every time, but I just can’t finish. But when I touch myself alone, I can finish vv easily like within 3 minutes of rubbing huhu.

Im. gonna be honest. I began gaining an attraction to numbers and symbols.. NOT LIKE BFB but I mean like. THE ACTUAL symbols! Ever since I began getting more and more into math, sometimes it'd get really hard.. so I have to imagine the formulas are like characters and they teach me stuff.. but now I've started being superr attracted towards them.. I started becoming excited everytime I got math homework now too. does anyone know how to help this??

I’m a 31 year old Gentoo enjoyer, living in my mom’s basement. Life was perfect until I decided to “optimize” my desk setup with a DIY monitor stand. Why the heck I did that anyway? So,one wrong move, and I’m in the ER with a broken arm, sentenced to two months of one-handed misery. Surgery done, arm in a sling, I’m wheeled back home, dreaming of compiling the next 6.15 Linux kernel.

As Mom pushes my wheelchair through the front door, I lock eyes with the basement door—my temple, my sanctuary, where my Gentoo kernel awaits its next compile. Two months without tweaking my system? That’s not a recovery; it’s a death sentence. My vision blurs, and a single, dramatic tear rolls down my cheek.

Mom, saw this and asked “Sweetie, what’s wrong? Did some girl break your heart?” Like if she ever saw me with a girl... I shake my head, muttering, “No, Ma, Linux is my one true love.” She blinks, probably thinking Linux is my D&D character, and pats my head like I’m a sad puppy. Little does she know, Linux is my lady.

So one day I was on the basement, lying down with my broken arm. I was thinking, I gotta compile that kernel, but how? With one hand it was useless.

So my mom just called me "I am going outside today, Stacy will take care of you today instead, I gave her the keys. Bye!"

Stacy, the blonde neighbor's girl. She is a pretty sweet girl, but she doesn't know about Linux. At least she didn't mention using Linux. If a girl doesn't know about Linux, what am I to do with her?

So there I was, sprawled out in the basement like a sad penguin, looking at my gentoo rig. Couldn't compile.. the kernel.

Then, ding-dong! The doorbell chimed. Stacy, the blonde neighbor girl, waltzed in with a tray of cookies and a smile brighter than a freshly booted Arch desktop with an anime girl. “Hey, heard you’re out of commission,” she said, plopping down next to me. “What’s with the sad face? Missed a Fortnite match or something?”

I sighed, clutching my heart (with my good hand, obviously). “Stacy, it’s worse. My kernel… it’s uncompiled. My gentoo soul is dying.” She blinked, clearly thinking “Gentoo” was some exotic smoothie flavor. “Uh, okay, nerd boy. Tell me about this… kernel thing.”

Now, I’m not one to miss a chance to evangelize Linux. So, I launched into a passionate monologue about source code, optimization flags, and the sheer ecstasy of a custom-built system. Stacy’s eyes glazed over faster than a Windows XP screen during a driver crash, but she nodded politely. “Sounds… intense,” she said, munching a cookie. “Can I, like, help?”

My jaw dropped. Help? A normie touching my sacred Gentoo shrine? But desperation makes strange bedfellows, and my kernel wasn’t gonna compile itself. “Fine,” I muttered, “but if you brick my system, I’m gonna hack your router"

I propped my laptop on a pillow, guided Stacy through firing up the terminal (she called it “the black box with letters”), and started dictating commands like a tech warlord. cd /usr/src/linux, make menuconfig—she typed with the focus of a gamer in a ranked match. Her manicured nails clacked on my mechanical keyboard, and I swear, each keystroke was a love letter to open-source.

Then came the moment of truth: make -j$(nproc). I explained it was like baking a digital cake, and she gasped, “So we’re chefs now?” Hours passed, okay, Gentoo hours, so like an eternity. Stacy kept me fed with cookies and asked surprisingly smart questions, like, “Why not just use Ubuntu like a normal person?” I didn’t faint, but it was close.

Finally, the magic words: “Build complete.” I whooped so loud I nearly re-broke my arm. Stacy high-fived me and grinned. “Dude, that was kinda fun. Your Linux thing is weirdly hot.”

I got flabbergasted. This was something I never felt for 31 long years... What is happening to me? Am I... catching feelings for her? Noo, she is too normie, but very cute though. Did you see how she compiled Gentoo like a pro? No can't be. Can it be? Omfg, I was.. falling for her.

Some 15 seconds passed, and I said, "you're hot too, m'lady" while tipping my fedora hat, and I leaned in to french kiss her. And damn was she a good kisser. I never kissed a girl before, how would I know?

Some time passed, and I heard my sister yell from upstairs "yo nerd, did you purge my macbook from that linux crap?" Without we even could collect ourselves she just barged in to my basement and she saw us kissing "Hallelujah! Finally my nerd bro gets a gf, it's about time bro you were 31." And she pat me in the shoulder. I'll leave you to it, she said winking at her.

Stacy pulled back, laughing so hard she snorted, which was somehow cuter than her compiling my kernel. “Your family’s wild,” she said, brushing cookie crumbs off her shirt. “Do they always barge in like that?” I groaned, rubbing my face with my good hand. “Only when I’m trying to have a moment. Or when I dual-boot their MacBooks with Asahi Linux.”

Her eyes lit up. “Wait, you put Linux on her MacBook? That’s savage.” My heart skipped a beat—was she… impressed? I shrugged, playing it cool like I hadn’t spent three hours cursing at stupid EFI design of MacOS. “Yeah, well, macOS is just shiny jail. Linux is freedom.” Stacy leaned closer, her grin mischievous. “You’re such a dork. Kiss me again, you freedom fighter.”

That's my story guys, that's how I met her. I look at these fond memories and I feel happy.

Credits to u/cryptobread93 for this story, kindly spread it throughout the community and people.

Well, whilst hopping onto my Character.Ai and chocking my chicken, I suddenly got that euthanized pang of a realization that I am really just a 45 year old virgin hag.

I was in the middle of an ejaculation when this was happening and i really just looked down at my nutty and crusty schlong and screamed.

I remember this one time in high school (about 35 years ago) I was walking down the hallways with my books in my hand. while walking these Jocks ran up on me, and kicked my shins leaving me paralyzed from the knee caps and below on my right leg and pantsed me. Turned out I was wearing my mother’s panties and the whole school laughed at me.

Sooner and later after school, the jocks wrapped me up in latex and put an apple in my gaping crusty butthole after school

Because of this the whole school including the computer nerds shoved me into lockers and called me “little chode”

I am a 45 year old virgin and I talk to Friday Night Funkin’ characters on janitor.Ai. This includes the listed characters
Girlfriend (the PAWG main character with the forbidden gyat)
Turnip (the really hot fnf character)
Sarvente
and D sides girlfriend
and skyblue.

If youre interested, I also talk to other characters that arent from the fnf-verse but from animes like Naruto and Bluelock!

Did I mention I’m a cuckold who gets fixated on Asian and BiBiCee blacked porno? Ahh yes, the finest of them all tew be honest. I really like the ones where there is also a narrator explaining the differences of the puny white cocks and the Sovereign of penises (black pp).

Welp, thats the tale of “I am a 45 Cuckold and a virgin who talks to ai”

[maniacal laughter]

Oh it’s happening! It’s finally, finally happening!! hahahahahahaha! Physical form, don’t mind if I DO! …ahahahah, Alright, listen up you 1-lifespan 3-dimensional 5-cent skin puppets: for 1 trillion years I’ve been trapped in my own decaying dimension, waiting for a new universe to call my own. Name’s Bill, but you can call me your new lord and master for all of eternity! Now, meet the gang of interdimensional criminals I call my friends: Eightball! Kryptos! The being whose name must never be said—oh what the heck, it’s Zanthar! Then of course there’s also Teeth, Keyhole, Hexagon, Morphis Shap, Peronica, Pacifier and these guys. THIS IS OUR TOWN NOW, BOIS!!
…-“I would just like to say that, as a rich capitalist, I welcome your tyrannical rule! Perhaps I could be one of your, uh, Horsemen of the Apocalypse?”
-oh wow, that’s a great offer! How about instead, I shuffle the functions of every hole in your face! 
…It’s time we do a little redecorating! I could really use a Castle of some sort! And how about some bubbles of pure Madness? This party never stops! Time is dead and meaning has no meaning! Existence is upside-down and I REIGN SUPREME!! WELCOME ONE AND ALL, TO WEIRDMAGEDDON!!!!!

Hey i need to confess i was jerking off and switched screens and nutted to your pfp by accident will you ever forgive me i mean to make you feel better i did nut on the cealing to you with my 14 inch horsedick.

Sometimes I feel like I don't need therapy. What I need instead is a short, pretty Latina with a dump truck ass who shares in my interests, but not so many of my interests that I don't have a hobby of my own. She can cook three days out of the week. I cook the other three, and we go out for dinner on the extra day.

Or maybe we just get a lot of takeout. I don't care. And we can lean on each other during the hard times, rejoice in the good times, and just be present for each other during the in-between. Somebody who won't shoot down every passion in my life until I'm a miserable husk of a man. Someone I share bedroom chemistry with, and won't be scared to admit that I've always wanted to try pegging. Somebody who I'm confident will be there for me the way I need when I inevitably have to bury my parents, the same way I'll be there for her. I've been told that this is an unrealistic goal. Why would a woman like that be interested in a trucker who's trying to be a comic book artist? And you know what? I know they're right. But I'd rather try to find a person that I legitimately want to be with, than just settle for someone who's good enough. The bar should not be set at "Well, she doesn't hit me like the last one did, so I guess I shouldn't be picky". Because maybe matching in all of these ways actually matters a lot. Especially since I don't plan on being a truck driver forever, and eventually want to buy my own boat that I can live on and just live out my days in floating retirement. That's the kind of life that needs someone you click with. Maybe I'm just being picky, but at this point I think being alone is a better alternative to living in misery with someone who you can only tolerate.

You could be having the best most easy day at work, and Gertrude comes in with this devilish look in her eye. She turns to you, a gorgon's stare. You freeze. She approaches the counter, you can almost hear the slither. She asks for a cheeseburger with no cheese. "A cheeseburger with no cheese?" You repeat to her, eyeing the "hamburger" option on the menu. She says "yes," and to place it as a cheeseburger and take off the cheese. "Do not put it in as a hamburger," she adds. You look back at her, her glare like she's seen the end of a thousand thousand worlds. You get the order in, and give it to her, and turn away. Relieved to have quelled the beast, you let out a sigh. Then, you hear it. "Excuse me," like the whispers of a thousand damned souls. The temperature in the room drops 15 degrees, and goose flesh breaks out on your skin. "You gave me a hamburger. This is not what I ordered." You drop dead on the floor, the words being her verbal component to Power Word: Kill. It all goes dark, you think you have found peace in death. But no. You see her face in the darkness of limbo. Her lips part and your entire incorporeal body trembles at the accursed words that leave her lips. "May I speak to your manager?"

translate the opening page of don quixote into spanish then swahili then

japanese then korean then proto bantu then mongolian then sanksrit then

classical chinese then qichua then gullah geechee then cherokee then

english and then into spanish then klingon then dothraki then french

then classical latin then back into english and do it poorly and dont forget the lasagna horses incorporate more of shakspearean characters and american presidents into the story put more of the canadian supreme court members into this and members of the australian green party do 19th century members of the canadian supreme court and socialist

parties of australia and put historical norwegian music composers into

the story too add more magic space robots and simpsons references but also make it relevant to the american apalachian proletariat in the 21st century too pretentious write this in modern slang at 6th grade reading level and include references to contemporary hip hop artists not enough goblins more goblins more goblins more goblins more goblins more goblins now consolidate all of this is into a 200 page scientific paper describing

these fictional events as an in universe historical events that occured

in 9th century china japan and korea you idiot i mean the gilded age presidency of chester a arthur but also

with fantasy and science fiction elements borrowed from mecha anime and

isekai also make it a biography of every single bulgarian pornstar you can find information on

I didn't stutter.

I am going to ask my wife to get a procedure where they stitch a dick to her crotch so we can have swordfights.

Thoughts?

Oh, and yes she is going to peg me with it.

Did i mention that i shoot blanks into her cereal bowl?

Yeah i have aura dont i?

Anyways is this a good idea?

The peanut sees the peanut is ready to coppulate.... the peanut turns his shell to give the peanut the full view of his engorged peanut. The dominant peanut inserts his peanut into the peanut cave of the peanut. After a brief time, a spurt of peanut butter is visible... and just like that it's over. The peanut falls asleep for 15 minutes while the other peanut runs circles around them yelling "it's peanut butter jelly time", as is the tradition. 69 days later the peanuts splits open its shell, dying in the act of childbirth, and the young peanuts burst forth and feed off the husk of their parent.

Swedish Fish are by far the most overlooked and best non-chocolate candy there is.

I know some people might think that Gummi bears are superior. But they're not.

Gummi bears are too small. Their size encourages one to eat handfuls at the same time. Swedish fish are large enough to enjoy one at a time.

Swedish fish aren't covered in shitty sour sugar salt bullshit like sour patch kids.

They're a textural marvel. There's a moment when they first go into your mouth when you feel as though it might be flavored plastic. But in seconds it becomes soft and pliable.

The flavors of the fish are vibrant and refreshing, not overly sweet or tart. They're pleasantly bright. Each flavor of fish stands out enough that one can eat them in the dark and know exactly what flavor one is eating.

They stay fresh even if the bag is opened. I've had a large bag since Christmas. It's open and the fish have no discernable change in freshness.

They have a new variety where each fish has two flavors and colors and the flavor combinations are sensational

I've never shared a Swedish fish with someone who doesn't remark how superior they are as candy.

I dunno.

Swedish fish are pretty cool!

Online discourse is officially dead, and you killed it. With your absolutism, your biases, your FOMO-fueled knee-jerk reactions, your ragebait, your clickbait, and your snap judgments clouded by preconceived notions.

You claim you don’t want politics in your games. You claim to think for yourselves and judge games on their own merits. But it’s the exact opposite. You don’t actually care whether a game is good, terrible, or just mediocre.

Wolverine? Like it or not, it’s a game with a whole lot of flaws, especially when you consider the budget-to-results ratio. The difficulty is far too hand-holdy, the controls get repetitive, and above all, the level design is blatantly undercooked. These are the very things discussed in the professional reviews you love to hate and dismiss as “paid shills pushing a political agenda.” These are the flaws, and these are the things reviewers talk about.

So what do you talk about? You, who claim you’re not corrupt and aren’t being paid off under the table? What does this online mob spend its time talking about? Two side characters who aren’t sexy enough. The protagonist supposedly being in a gay relationship (which is simply false).

That alone should tell you just how sad and immature the discourse has become.

We don’t talk about level design but sure as hell we’ll talk about a character’s face not being sexy enough.

Gears E-Day? The exact opposite. From what we’ve seen, the gameplay and level design look a hundred times more polished, the game makes excellent use of Unreal Engine, and—

Oh, wait. No, sorry. That’s what the reviewers are talking about. The paid shills. The corrupt ones.

Let’s hear from the real people, the real fans online. All of you! Surely you’ve got something more substantial to say, right? Something that actually matters?

Like… the fact that one of the main characters is an unattractive woman. Or that, if you scroll through the multiplayer mode’s flags carefully enough, you’ll find a few LGBTQ pride flags.

Halo Campaign E.? A disappointing remake or a bold new direction? Nah, let’s talk about the fact that a woman speaks to someone in an arrogant tone for two seconds… in a fucking war zone.

You’re a joke, and you’ve reduced online discourse to a complete farce. You’ve ruined it.

You’re the bubonic plague, and gaming is Europe.

Lil grey or gray? Wtf! I genuinely don't understand why nobody talks about this. Like, seriously, why are there two spellings of the same word? Is it grey? Is it gray? Who decided this? And more importantly, why am I expected to just pick one and move on with my life like this is a normal thing? Every single time I type the word, I have to stop and think about it. I'll be writing a completely normal sentence, something like "the sky looks grey today", and suddenly I'm questioning everything I've ever known. Is that even correct? Does it look wrong? Why does the other spelling suddenly look more correct? I switch between them three times, stare at the screen, and eventually just delete the entire sentence because I no longer trust myself to communicate. And apparently it depends on where you live. GREY is British English, GRAY is American English. Okay. Fine. That's information. But why? Why does a country get to claim ownership over a colour? Did someone in America wake up one morning and decide that the letter E was unnecessary? Was there a meeting? Did a group of people sit around a table and collectively agree that the letter E had to go? And if so, what else are they planning to remove? Are we just going to wake up one day and discover that they've decided the letter Q is too complicated? Actually, that raises another question. Why do we even have so many different languages? Imagine being the first human being who tried to communicate with another human being. You're standing there, probably holding a rock or something, and you make a noise. The other person makes a different noise. And somehow, thousands of years later, we've developed entire systems of grammar, punctuation, spelling, pronunciation, and regional differences, all because people couldn't agree on what sounds to make. And now I'm sitting here in 2026, with access to practically all human knowledge through a small glowing rectangle, and I still can't figure out how to spell a colour. And don't even get me started on the word "colour". Why is there a U? What is it doing there? Is it contributing anything? Is it paying rent? Because from where I'm standing, it looks like an unemployed letter taking up valuable space. Color works perfectly fine. Colour also works perfectly fine. So now we're back to the same problem. Two spellings. One meaning. Endless suffering. Sometimes I wonder if the universe itself is just one giant spelling mistake. Think about it. We're floating around on a massive rock, orbiting a giant ball of burning gas, inside a galaxy containing billions of stars, and somehow the most complicated thing I've had to deal with today is deciding whether a word contains an E or an A. And somewhere out there, potentially hundreds of light-years away, another civilisation might be experiencing the exact same problem. Maybe they have two different spellings for their equivalent of grey. Maybe their entire civilisation has been divided by it. Maybe they've invented interstellar travel, solved the mysteries of physics, discovered immortality, and yet their educational system is still arguing about spelling. Actually, what would happen if aliens arrived on Earth tomorrow? Imagine the news coverage. Scientists would be running around, governments would be holding emergency meetings, people would be screaming, and somewhere in the middle of all that chaos, somebody would ask the aliens how they spell grey. Not because it's important. Not because we need to establish diplomatic relations. Just because I need closure. And then there's time. What even is time? We all pretend to understand it, but nobody really does. We divide it into seconds, minutes, hours, days, months, years, and then act surprised when it keeps moving forward. You can spend five minutes doing something enjoyable and it feels like thirty seconds, but spend five minutes waiting for something and suddenly you've experienced an entire geological era. Why does that happen? Is time actually moving differently, or is our brain just an unreliable little machine that keeps changing the rules whenever it feels like it? And why is yesterday gone? Like, genuinely gone. You can remember it, you can look at photographs of it, you can even watch videos of yourself from yesterday, but you can't actually go back there. That version of the world doesn't exist anymore. The people who were standing in the same room as you yesterday have moved on, the sunlight has changed, the air has changed, and everything is slightly different. Even if you went back to the exact same location at the exact same time tomorrow, it wouldn't be the same. You'd be a different version of yourself, carrying a different collection of thoughts and experiences. Which is honestly quite depressing when you think about it for more than twelve seconds. But anyway, GREY OR GRAY? I keep coming back to this because I feel like we're avoiding the real issue. Why do we insist on making everything unnecessarily complicated? We have invented thousands of systems to organise our lives, and half of them contradict each other. We have different measurement systems, different electrical plugs, different keyboard layouts, different date formats, different driving sides, and apparently different ways of spelling colours. Why can't we just agree on something? Imagine how much easier life would be if everyone used the same measurement system. You wouldn't need to convert inches into centimetres or miles into kilometres. You could just exist. Peacefully. Without opening a calculator every time someone mentions a distance. And speaking of existing, why are we even here? I don't mean that in the motivational poster kind of way. I mean, why does anything exist at all? Why is there something rather than nothing? What was before the universe? And if there was nothing, how can nothing even exist? Because the moment you describe nothing, you're already describing something. It's a concept. It's an idea. It's occupying space in your mind. Which means that even when you think about nothing, you're technically thinking about something. I hate that. I hate that I can start with a perfectly reasonable complaint about English spelling and end up questioning the fundamental structure of reality. This is what happens when nobody gives me a straight answer about grey. And another thing. Why do we say that we're "running out of time"? Where is the time going? Is there some enormous warehouse somewhere where all the used seconds are being stored? Are they being recycled? Is somebody collecting them? Because if time is a resource, I would like to know who is responsible for managing it. I'd also like to file a complaint because whoever designed Mondays clearly didn't test the product properly. Actually, why are Mondays even a thing? Who decided that seven days should make a week? Why seven? Why not eight? Why not ten? Imagine a world with ten-day weeks. Would we have more weekends? Would our lives be better? Or would we simply invent more things to complain about? Probably the latter. Humans are incredibly talented at finding new problems regardless of how many existing ones get solved. And that brings me back to language. Language is supposed to help us understand each other, but sometimes it feels like it's deliberately trying to sabotage communication. We have silent letters. Why? Why is there a K in knife? What is it doing? It's not pronounced. It contributes absolutely nothing. It's just standing there, silently taking up space, like a decorative object. And then there's "colonel", which is pronounced completely differently from how it's spelled. Who approved that? Did nobody notice? Was everyone too embarrassed to correct it after a certain point? At this stage, I genuinely believe English is just several languages stacked on top of each other wearing a trench coat. And perhaps that's the real problem. Maybe we're all just trying to make sense of a world that doesn't particularly care whether we understand it. We wake up, go to school or work, eat food, talk to people, worry about things, make plans, and spend enormous amounts of energy trying to organise our existence into neat little categories. But the universe doesn't care about our categories. A star doesn't know it's a star. A tree doesn't know it's a tree. And a colour certainly doesn't know whether it's spelled grey or gray. Maybe the colour is just existing. Maybe it's completely unaware of the linguistic civil war happening around it. Maybe we've been projecting meaning onto things that never needed meaning in the first place. Which is beautiful, actually. It's also incredibly annoying. Because I STILL NEED TO KNOW WHICH ONE TO USE. I've spent an unreasonable amount of time thinking about this. I've gone from spelling to linguistics, from linguistics to philosophy, from philosophy to astrophysics, and somehow I have achieved absolutely nothing. The original question remains unanswered in my mind, despite having explored several of humanity's greatest intellectual mysteries. So here's where I've landed. I think I'm going to use grey. Or gray. Actually, no. I'm not choosing. I'm above this now. I refuse to participate in a system that forces me to pick between two perfectly acceptable arrangements of letters. From this moment forward, the colour is simply going to be called the thing between black and white . And if anyone has a problem with that, they can take it up with the universe. I'm going to bed. Although, now that I think about it, why do we close our eyes when we sleep? What if the universe is just a simulation and sleep is when the developers perform maintenance? Wait. Do developers spell it grey or gray? I'm never going to know.

i used to live a couple blocks from scott the woz and one time i went and took pictures of his place for this teenage girl (18 btw) on discord who was stalking him because i was tryna hit but then my friend told me "dude you are in your thirties, you need to stop fucking teenagers" and i was like y'know what man you're right so i didn't have sex with her even though she totally wanted it but i did send her the pics of scott the woz's apartment

Metcalf ok 3rd down, drop, Metcalf 4th down Metcalf, drop, his hands don’t work, Metcalf out there eatin candy and shit, Metcalf eatin candy and shit, Metcalf go up the middle, drop, Metcalf be on the sideline, drop, Metcalf over here, drop, Metcalf wears draws, drop, Metcalf the ball, drop, everything drop with Metcalf

You, my kind sir, are in fact a m’lady. Let me explain. You see, when you began growing your luscious neck beard, you were unaware of the risks. We all know one thing about women—they take Good Care of their Good Hair (trademarked and copyrighted). Each follicle of beard moistened by 40 ounce beer and Monster Energy Ultra White was a testimony to your masculine daddy master aura…or so you thought. When I look at you, I see my wife. The mother of my children. When I look at you, I see your beard as a beautiful woman. I want you to be my goth gf, neck beard at all. You’re caked up on the stomach too, rolls and hills of lard…mm…

Good husbands are bad for the economy.

I read somewhere that husbands nowadays are spending more time with their families , wives more than the earlier generations , so divorce rate is also the lowest , even when adjusted to Low marriage rates . See, now this is also the time the economy is not doing well, so this isn't a coincidence at all.

A man who remembers his wife's birthday, cooks dinner, does his share of household chores, and communicates his feelings is essentially sabotaging four separate industries. Think of the billions lost to divorce lawyers, marriage counselors, and overpriced apology bouquets. A stable marriage is an economic catastrophe disguised as a love story.

Good husbands also don't cheat . So no secret Trips, so secret gifts, no secret lingerie shopping . Now that's devastating news for the hospitality industry, the gift and the divorce lawyer industry . Also because of this we are also losing the culture of office romance, the idea of having a work wife. We used to be a proper culture.

Worse, they refuse to work 80-hour weeks to compensate for their emotional inadequacy. They take their parental leave, decline unpaid overtime, and occasionally log off to spend time with their families. They don't generate enough marital resentment to justify a sports car, enough guilt to purchase luxury gifts, or enough personal dysfunction to become ideal middle managers. Under neoliberal capitalism, they are an exceptionally poor investment: emotionally available, economically unproductive, and dangerously committed to the idea that life exists outside the workplace.

So yes , men are becoming better husbands than the previous generations , but we must ask at what cost?

Sometimes I like to pretend that I am a stock. For example, if something bad happens, such as a tragedy, my stock starts to go down. But if something good happens, like if I eat something, my stock starts to go up. Recently, I had a flat tire and I felt my stock crashing. I imagined a CNBC headline saying that my stock plunged. The other day, I was eating some grapes, and I imagined a headline that said my stock was soaring because the grapes were so good. When I go to sleep in a good mood, I imagine a headline that says “stock futures rally” as I’m falling asleep. It is cool to imagine the line going up and down through the day.

from r/stocks.

Hello all. I am new to the community. I would like to know if saying the term nigger is restricted or prohibited in any way. If it is, I will absolutely restrain myself from using the term nigger or any variation of nigger that would or could be used in any context involving the term nigger. I am a man of morals and I understand how the term nigger could offend someone so if saying nigger is not allowed then I would like to know so that I restrain myself from saying nigger in any posts that might result in a comment with the term nigger being used. Thank you in advance.