2 articles Tag Barnacle Jim

Just. Fucking. Classic.

Well, if it isn’t another amazing post by Barnacle Jim, the world’s favorite special-ed drop out. What’s amazing isn’t that your posts are so terrible, which they are, on the scale of one to total shit you’d be lucky to score less than World’s Biggest Faggot, an award previously held by your father who managed to squeeze his needle penis into your Prize Pig Mother’s rancid snatch between making visits to the truck stop and watching gay porn videos in the rec room, while you cried yourself to sleep in your unicorn sheets because mommy smelled like the weird drink again and looked like a raccoon after another visit to Uncle Ed, or should I say Mr. Ed, since there is certainly some equine blood in your veins, though not of noble stock I should think, since the only race you’ve ever won is the Who Can Be The Most Unfunny Poster For The Longest Time contest, in which you took the blue ribbon, something most of your girlfriends could do at the county fair, which is also where you must have received your education because you are stupider than a burlap sack full of cow dung, also known as your best friend throughout childhood, probably because the smell reminds you of the womb and Lord knows you’re short enough to crawl into a burlap sack and recreate the experience, though you probably couldn’t maintain a single thought long enough to accomplish anything as you’ve effectively destroyed what few and poor functioning brain cells you may have had with enough Marijuana to choke a hippo (and I should know, I’ve seen your girlfriend eat) so maybe it’s best if you leave the complex thought to those of us who still have the basic human faculties left to dress ourselves correctly, shower regularly, and not play frisbee golf like some kind of retarded child, too inept to play on the Real Playground and forced into some alterna-sport due to sheer natural selection, the same natural selection that decided you would never produce offspring, not only because your entire person smells like the inside of a New Age Apothecary toilet, but because your penis is small enough to pick the pubes out of your teeth once you get done fellating the rest of your closeted homosexual bike riding friends, who you surely pal around with out of spirited comradery and not because you enjoy watching a small band of the world’s detritus sweat and giggle in skin tight fagsuits, their tiny packages bulging out at you from their sweat-soaked bike seats, it’s that you have been making them for so long, mate.

Speaking of long, we haven’t even talked about your Birth Defect Poster Child Face. Honestly, mate, did your mother survive labor? If so, how could you tell? The only thing that separated her from a corpse in the first place is that she could still open her legs whenever something with a phallus-like object walked by. Seriously though, have you considered donating your head to science? If the doctors ever tired of staring at your freakish visage, they could cut the top of your skull off and store their prescription pads in the empty hollow within, oh sorry, didn’t mean to mention empty hollows, I know you are fond of your mother, just like most Johns out for a quick night of shudder-worthy release. But congratulations, you Gigantic Piece of Shit, for continuing to stick around this forum and contribute your Hilarious posts about What Beer You Drank Instead Of Dinner and How You Programmed a SQL Database. Classic material, Jim. Just. Fucking. Classic.


Categories: Fiction  /  Tags:

Goons, what the hell should I do?

Ok, first off I’d like to make it clear that Darfur War Orphans would love to have my life, first world problems and all. I make plenty of money, have a nice warm house, etc etc. Now for my issues.

A little backstory: I have been dating this girl for 2 years now, we met at a local over-30 singles party and I took her back to my truck, long story short we moved in together and lived happily ever after; until now.

Recently the GF has been making little remarks about my looks. Full disclosure: I’m not a bad looking guy, I have been called handsome and I stay in shape by riding bikes and playing a little frolf on the weekends. But I’m really sensitive about my face. I was diagnosed with Fragile X syndrome, a disease that basically makes you have a really long and gay looking face. Even my best friends like to poke fun at it, the boys at the office like to kick my ass and fuck me and cum on me, but my girlfriend was always considerate. Lately though, this isnt the case; it started with little remarks, she would just say “Why the long face?” when I looked sad, or casually measure my face length with a carpenter’s square while we were in bed. I tried to play it off but I had to admit it bothered me a bit, no big deal though right?

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Categories: Fiction  /  Tags: