i have been told yesterday i am a nihilist, any comment?
That story wasn't very cool, bro. The phrase is used to indicate disbelief, y'know. Just for the edification of your FYI.
We don't even have nice clubs in Michigan. It was probably his first time out. Why you gotta chug on the haterade? Findley isn't from there, is he? 'Cuz if both him and Re-Pete are Michiganders, I'm gonna put a fucking gun in my mouth.
David Findley stories are the best, and truest, kind of story.
However, if that had been the D-Man he would have done a triple flying kick on those three Chinese dudes who were giving him BS, K-ed them TFO and later been invited back to teach the security kung fu for like 10,000RMB a day.
The Winning Ticket by Pomeh
Almost all of Paul’s monthly income went on medical expenses for his two invalid parents. After work each day he hurried back to the family home to change their bedpans and prepare the evening meal. He’d always wanted to leave dour England to work as a foreign correspondent but the near-constant attention his parents required meant he had worked as an ad setter at the local newspaper since graduation. The editor was an understanding man and let him take the early shift.
Returning home on Friday he paused briefly to watch his neighbour Betty. She gracefully ascended the steps to her front door then turned to look up at the clouds for some clue as to the weekend’s weather. Noticing Paul she smiled and waved. “Hey Paul! How are the folks?” “They’re fine, Betty!” Paul called back, jogging up his driveway. “You should have a weekend off,” she said. “Let me look after them for once.” “Oh I couldn’t do that,” he replied. “You know they don’t like strangers.” “You’re a good man, Paul,” she said, leaning across the adjoining fence to touch his arm. “Not many like you left!” Paul blushed slightly and went inside.
Friday was the one part of the week Paul looked forward to. Every Thursday he bought a lottery ticket and every Friday after work he poured himself a glass of milk and sat down to check the winning numbers in the paper. Though he knew the odds of winning were slight, Paul thought he should at least give the universe a chance to make things right for him. He took a few deep breaths and checked the results. 11, 17, 19 … Not even close. From upstairs his mother was calling him.
When Thursday came round again Paul stopped by the local newsagent to buy another ticket. Several people were standing around chatting excitedly. “What’s going on?” He asked, smiling. “Oh, it’s Betty.” Said the shopkeeper. “She’s only gone and won the lottery!”
Betty had indeed won a six figure sum. She sold her house, moved to the Caribbean and never saw Paul again.
u always cry to get pussies, dude
I fucking love that meme.
Mooney, did this self entertainment work well for you?