Jesus Christ! The mental image of that is hilariously horrifying. I'm dying. 

Many years back, I was hanging out with my high school friends, Billy & Trey, in Trey’s Grandparents’ pool. Billy was climbing up the ladder to get out when Trey jumped on his back to pull him back into the pool. Somehow, Billy’s big toe nail caught perfectly on the ladder rung, so as to pull the nail straight up,…

I’ve had a similar experience with electric clippers. In my case, however, I was trying to shave the hair off the underside of my dick, the bottom inch or so where where penis meets scrotum. So, I had my dick pulled up toward my belt with one hand and was running the clippers downwards. I didn’t notice the little sail…

Really. I went to high school with guy named Ted E. Bair (no shit) who had some sort of accident with a push mower, lopping off 4½ toes. His foot—with only one tiny piece of pinky toe remaining—was an abomination, and I’m feeling queasy just thinking about it.

I read this far into the comments before I realized it wasn't followed by the word "million". Jesus. 

He’s an embarrassment. I hate him so much. 

I hate the fact that some percentage of my tax dollars goes toward paying the exorbitant salary of this hot-headed, macho-posturing shitbag. But Muschamp, like every other head coach (except maybe Spurrier) in the history of my alma mater, will most likely fail miserably and see his coaching career meet an ignominious…

I’ve always dreamed of opening a seafood restaurant called Bass to Mouth...

My boss drives a white BMW 😔

He’s my favorite player of the last 10 years. I have exactly 2 shirts with the numbers of players on them, and one of them is Rondo. That might just mean I’m the weird one, but whatever.

Does it? Because it feels to me like multiple lifetimes of having to tolerate the masses of dick-riding, team-switching, bandwagon fans who live and die by whatever team the dude jumps to. And that’s not even getting into the media fawning over his every breath (it’s a wonder Windhorst can still speak, considering the…

Fuck you!

Yeah, no shit. Sitting the Artax scene, I absolutely lost my shit as a little kid. It broke me. I was sobbing so uncontrollably that my mom had to take me out of the theater. I think we ended up watching an “Earnest goes to...” movie instead.

Man, who taught you how to use commas? That shit is terrible and nearly impossible to read.

Also, most firearms, at least those sold over the last ~20 years, at least, are sold with some sort of lock included. Not that it’s news to anyone here, but the excuse of “locks being too expensive” is some seriously disingenuous bullshit.

Granted, I know next to nothing about playing a guitar, but I feel like her fingers should be bloody nubs after shit like that. Damn.

I’ll try to keep this short, but I can’t make any promises. My senior year of high school I briefly dated a girl name Tosha, I’d known her for years and was well of her awfulness. She was the the typical bleached-blond, vapid, willfully ditzy girl from every teen movie from the era (mid-90s). She was also the…

I’m well aware the comment thread in which I’m replying is more than three years old, but holy shit!

That’s supposed to be anti-suicide, right? It’s having the opposite effect on me. It feels like Mr Joel is viciously mocking my struggles with depression. Is Billy Joel in a trenchcoat the best life can offer? A suicide deterrent? This song and video are both deeply flawed.

I’d include a not-insignificant portion of the nation’s police force in this group as well.