Everyone who is and/or was important was born in the 90s. I was born in the 90s, Herodotus was born in the 90s, Obama, Stalin, Lenin, Freud, Mousselini, Mousellini's ghost, Michael Jackson's sister, my dog, your dog's dad, my dad and your dog's love child, you get my drift. EVERYONE. No one was actually not born in the 90s. you think your dad is fucking actually 30 years old??? No, he's 15 but he is so depressed that when he fucked your mom, you came out, that he has wrinkles now and his puer aeternus has aged into a wizened old rat. And he hates you (for more on this see the 100 reasons your dad hates you .
Darts was fun for a while - until the third second after I started playing it for the first time using my boss's head as the target board. Then I was arrested and now I'm in jail and all I do is write this ratchet fucking website.
2. Russian Roulette
What was difficult, and what did not earn me rave reviews was that I, instead of only loading one chamber of the revolver, loaded all 6. I also had in mind that it would be a fun suprise. Like, imagine coming to work and everyone's playing apples to apples and you get to just jump into the game, right???? Apparently NO. People were like really shocked and I was just trying to have a good time, what is the big deal. guns are so alternative now. It was a good thing I had accidentally loaded the chambers with ADORABLE BABY KOALA BEARS MWAHAHAHA. I bet you thought I would have made a public shooting joke in this political climate???? NO I am tactful and this blog is PC
3. PENETRATION NATION
4. DOWN WITH THE CUBICAL WALLS, UP WITH THE SEX DOLLS
This can be a little up to your own volition. Sometimes its easier just to burn the entire office down and replace it with a pile of sex dolls. Or you can shove your co-workers out the windows and replace them with sex dolls.
or sex dogs ;)
5. FILL THE WATER COOLER WITH ABSINTHE
AND MY RATCHET DOG'S PERIOD BLOOD
AND TELL EVERYONE ITS KOOL AID
they're sex dolls now so they don't care
7. can that little kid from the 6th sense see me right now? BECAUSE I'M LITERALLY DYING
Senet is the oldest board game known to exist, originally from Modern Ancient Egypt. Sets have been found in burial chambers from as far back as 1901 AD--including four in Tutankhamen’s tomb.
9. That game where you cut your boss's head off and use it as a soccer ball until the Aztec priest rips your heart out and sends your pathetic soul careening into the underworld, where you will face screaming pain for the rest of your eternal hellish life. You will die alone and tortured, facing your innermost demons - with nothing to show for it. No gain, no self-actualization, no inner growth. Only humiliation and the most severe self-hatred will come to you, while you are trapped in your own corner of this dark frigid universe. Forever. Eventually, if you think you have created a meaning, or latched onto any form of solace to sublimate your wretched pain, it will be snatched away - leaving only the faintest gleam in its wake. You cannot hope for a reprieve, but only continue to live in a wretched shuddering personalized inferno. A reverberating confusion will force your legs forward through the meaningless and disgusting cycle of life-after-life. You will be like Nero, dancing while Rome burns, but instead of Rome it will be your own personal relationships and people you loved - dying in flames- that will light the fire to sustain your disaffection. You will realize that, since you were flung into this world, all ideas you ever identified with were nothing but idle constellations superimposed across a net of nothingness. Your identity, so treasured and revered, so held to be crucial, was ego-function, an arteriography of a missing value projected through all your relationships, until you no longer even want to continue living in this net of compensatory ideals. Life will become a habit, a necessity. Each day you will crawl towards death and watch his black cape flicker just out of reach. You scream and grasp for his scythe to ring down upon your neck and release you from the garbage dumpster of life that you are not even a raccoon playing in, not even a cockroach feasting on. No. You are a half-dead carcass, smashed by the cars of intentionality on the highway of humanism, then removed by the police of consequential utilitarianism and thrown into the wood-chipper of self-awareness. You derive not even a zephyr of beauty from the insipid banality of existence. You drown in the vast ocean of subtle hatred that encompasses every single action you take on a daily basis - remembering when the illusion of happiness, the efficacy of morality, the relativism of good, could once sate your thirst for an overarching schematic plateau of rationality that would combat this monstrous matrix, you sob knowing that the prospect of (even) ironic idealism now stifles and suffocates you, It breeds a constitution of hatred, all you can cling to, a black candle in the darkness of voided dreams. You cannot even view your own past-self as an ironic comedy in this pathetic holocaust of existence. Absurdism was never meant to provide hope, no less to give an excuse to love or find humor in the destruction of idealism. It was meant to disillusion those that still clung to their infantile fantasies of relation. Those who saw in the eyes of another anything but a masticated and infinite emptiness. For I have seen this black universe swinging from one mind into another, yawning and howling without aim, up and down from gods to mortals. I have seen it go on and on without cause. I have watched the planets flung like knives towards a woman spun on a wheel, as if the circus-act of life could set her free. The ultimate abyss lies not beyond the construction of meaning, but behind the eyes of the other. You and I grasp at communication like the starving rats that tear poisoned meat from one another, knowing their death to be inevitable and yet depending on it, nonetheless. For I have seen the eternal recurrence. I have watched the hourglass reverse and watched a life become lived once again
beloved stranger, hated confidant.
It will not fall. It will not shatter. You and I are captured here. Forever.
so you better not let marge over in HR score a goal! GET MOVING!!
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1. The Club Weave
2. The Bald Baby
3. The Fat Cowboy
4. The Double Alien
5. The Whirling Dervish
6. The Sleeping Cobra
7. Broke Back Mons Moundain
8. The Fuzzy Neighbor
9. The Pop and Fizzle
10. The Dirty Trench
11. The Triple Hole Surprise
12. The Brown Angle
13. The Brown Angel
14. The Stinky Jewish
15. The Unibomber
16. The Salmon Fisherman's Forearm
17. The Reverse Breakfast Surprise
18. The Inside-Out Barstool