Personal Lolcows - Lolcows in your personal life.

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I remember bringing you a basic history of my drunk whore housemate 'Batty' earlier in the thread, (http://www.cwckiforums.com/threads/personal-lolcows-what-are-yours.463/page-23#post-37133), and I think it's time to post some more. As I type this, I can hear her in the bath now, tub squealing under her pasty bitch arse, singing the same line to the same song over and over because she thinks she's going to be on the fucking X Factor or something, I dunno.

Make it stop.

I warn you, this is a long story.

Batty has decided, after being ridden more times than the worn out Noddy car outside Tesco, to go steady and get herself a boyfriend. Oh wait, did I say boyfriend? I meant 'BOIFREN', which is the word she spits proudly at you whenever she talks at you. To be honest, we got pretty excited by this, as it meant firstly - no more swinging dicks; secondly - we got to place bets on who out of the current swinging dicks is the lucky sausage, which fed our amateur gambling addictions; and thirdly - we had the guessing game of how long it would take until she went back to her crazy flap-flaunting ways to look forward to.

Guessing was actually quite difficult. The suspects were narrowed down between 'Big Bald Guy', the name of whom is self-explanatory, 'Chav Weasel Guy', who was this disgusting sleazy skinhead pisstain of a man, 'Bicycle', so called because he rode a motorbike, 'Marvin', real name hidden, who was actually Batty's best friend, fuckbuddy and cousin. Yes, COUSIN. Also there was 'Grunty Man', 'Bruiser' and 'The Maintenance Man'. Bicycle was our favourite as he was actually a really nice, vaguely attractive guy who seemed to want to try and help Batty improve herself and not be such a pathetic excuse of life. We'd like it to be him.

Then Bicycle, in a revolutionary move, took himself out of the running.

One night we were woken by a huge screamy ruckus, drifting up the stairs to our room with undertones of stale johnny-stank and JD. Bleary eyed and grumpy as fuck, we just buried our heads even deeper into the pillow, thinking she was just having her vacuous salmon canyon abseiled by the brave purple python again. Then I felt them mister stir again and get out of bed, lolloping over to the door with the grace of a narcoleptic ballet dancer, and poise against it, listening. I started asking him "What?", but an urgent sweep of his hand told me to shut the hell up. Batty and Bicycle weren't bumping uglies, they were fighting.

"You take me for granted...why can't you stick to ONE MAN?!"
Shuffle, shuffle, slam.
"You don't understaaaaaand! I...I...you don't..."
CRASH.
"What the fuck are you doing? Nooooo...staaaay!"
Muffled noises, CRASH.
"Can you really stay with one man? Can that man be me?"
"Well...I do have a lot of boy friends, but like it's alright because they're friends."
"Right."
SLAM. Muffle, muffle.
"What are you doooooing? Nooooo..."
"I'm getting dressed and I'm going HOME. Away from YOU."
"But noooooo...I liiiike yoooou..."
"And I like NOT BEING TAKEN FOR AN IDIOT. I can't change you. You're always going to be a whore and I was stupid to think I could help you. Fuck you, I'm gone."
"Uuuuuuuhhhhhh..."
Sobs.
"You can't keep your pants on, not my fault. I'm GONE."
Stomp, stomp, stomp, SLAM. Vroom vroom screeeeeeeee.

And there he went. Brave man he was. I genuinely hope he's done better for himself.

That left the rest. We thought that Marvin was front runner now as he was her favourite, over almost every other night. That all changed in the space of a week. She chose the worst possible option out of all the swinging dicks before her cock-hungry eyes.

She chose fucking Chav fucking Weasel Guy.

He's actually horrible. Greasy, sleazy and pretty obviously only in it for the humping. His name apparently is Jim. We know this not because we've been formerly introduced, but because -

"Jim? Jim! JIIIIIIIEEEEEIIIIIM!"

It gets pretty hilarious when her cooking is involved. She's really rather proud of her cooking, and rightly so. She should hold great pride in the fact that she has the amazing ability to burn fucking everything, mostly due to her leaving stuff in the oven and forgetting about it due to being drunk. He knows that her food is terrible, and rarely eats when he's over. Once or twice he's accidentally let slip that he's hungry.

"JEIIIM? Why didn't you teeeell me? I know! I'll COOK something!"
"No, no, it's fine babe. I'm alright."
"NUUUU lemme COOK something!"
"No, babe..."

The most recent time this happened she decided to do some spaghetti and pancetta. How hard can that be, right? Me and the mister were in the kitchen cooking away, and she barges in as she always does and makes a big show of getting the ingredients together to use. She looks at the packet of spaghetti in her hand, and then at the recipe. 500g pack, she needs 150g for the food. Right, any normal person would weigh it out and get on with it...not Batty-Bang-Bang. She gets out the scales and weighs a single strand of spaghetti, observing the number closely through a drunken haze. Then she goes back to the pack and starts counting out the strands to make up 150g. I shit you not. She stood there counting fucking spaghetti strands. Next the pancetta, diced, and into the pan with some oil. So far so good. She stands there and complains about how pancetta it fattening for some reason, while reaching into the fridge for a block of butter. It was a new block. She strips the foil off, the cogs working in her head to estimate how much she'd need...and then halves the block, dropping the entire half into the pan with the ham. Fattening? Nah. We left her then, having done our food, Jim groaning in the room next door.

I popped back down for some water, only to see her spag and ham, swimming in brown butter on the hob, hardening at the edges. Further down there's Batty, BARE ARM UP TO HER SHOULDER IN THE OVEN, reaching bravely for some very burnt ciabatta. Ciabatty. An oven glove lay forgotten on the hob door, flopping on the floor like a limp dick. I said nothing at all, got my water and left, trying my utmost not to unleash a bray of laughter at the sounds that followed me out the door.

" Ow. OW. OWWWW. Ow. OW. Ow, that's REAAAALLY hot! Ow. OWWW. JIIIIEEEEM, the oven's HOT!"

As much as I hate Weaselly Jimmy, you have got to admire the lengths he goes to for cheap fanny.

What a hero.
Good lord, you should seriously consider admitting Batty to the psych ward. It would make your life a lot easier.
 
Okay so, let's talk about my
I remember bringing you a basic history of my drunk whore housemate 'Batty' earlier in the thread, (http://www.cwckiforums.com/threads/personal-lolcows-what-are-yours.463/page-23#post-37133), and I think it's time to post some more. As I type this, I can hear her in the bath now, tub squealing under her pasty bitch arse, singing the same line to the same song over and over because she thinks she's going to be on the fucking X Factor or something, I dunno.

Make it stop.

I warn you, this is a long story.

Batty has decided, after being ridden more times than the worn out Noddy car outside Tesco, to go steady and get herself a boyfriend. Oh wait, did I say boyfriend? I meant 'BOIFREN', which is the word she spits proudly at you whenever she talks at you. To be honest, we got pretty excited by this, as it meant firstly - no more swinging dicks; secondly - we got to place bets on who out of the current swinging dicks is the lucky sausage, which fed our amateur gambling addictions; and thirdly - we had the guessing game of how long it would take until she went back to her crazy flap-flaunting ways to look forward to.

Guessing was actually quite difficult. The suspects were narrowed down between 'Big Bald Guy', the name of whom is self-explanatory, 'Chav Weasel Guy', who was this disgusting sleazy skinhead pisstain of a man, 'Bicycle', so called because he rode a motorbike, 'Marvin', real name hidden, who was actually Batty's best friend, fuckbuddy and cousin. Yes, COUSIN. Also there was 'Grunty Man', 'Bruiser' and 'The Maintenance Man'. Bicycle was our favourite as he was actually a really nice, vaguely attractive guy who seemed to want to try and help Batty improve herself and not be such a pathetic excuse of life. We'd like it to be him.

Then Bicycle, in a revolutionary move, took himself out of the running.

One night we were woken by a huge screamy ruckus, drifting up the stairs to our room with undertones of stale johnny-stank and JD. Bleary eyed and grumpy as fuck, we just buried our heads even deeper into the pillow, thinking she was just having her vacuous salmon canyon abseiled by the brave purple python again. Then I felt them mister stir again and get out of bed, lolloping over to the door with the grace of a narcoleptic ballet dancer, and poise against it, listening. I started asking him "What?", but an urgent sweep of his hand told me to shut the hell up. Batty and Bicycle weren't bumping uglies, they were fighting.

"You take me for granted...why can't you stick to ONE MAN?!"
Shuffle, shuffle, slam.
"You don't understaaaaaand! I...I...you don't..."
CRASH.
"What the fuck are you doing? Nooooo...staaaay!"
Muffled noises, CRASH.
"Can you really stay with one man? Can that man be me?"
"Well...I do have a lot of boy friends, but like it's alright because they're friends."
"Right."
SLAM. Muffle, muffle.
"What are you doooooing? Nooooo..."
"I'm getting dressed and I'm going HOME. Away from YOU."
"But noooooo...I liiiike yoooou..."
"And I like NOT BEING TAKEN FOR AN IDIOT. I can't change you. You're always going to be a whore and I was stupid to think I could help you. Fuck you, I'm gone."
"Uuuuuuuhhhhhh..."
Sobs.
"You can't keep your pants on, not my fault. I'm GONE."
Stomp, stomp, stomp, SLAM. Vroom vroom screeeeeeeee.

And there he went. Brave man he was. I genuinely hope he's done better for himself.

That left the rest. We thought that Marvin was front runner now as he was her favourite, over almost every other night. That all changed in the space of a week. She chose the worst possible option out of all the swinging dicks before her cock-hungry eyes.

She chose fucking Chav fucking Weasel Guy.

He's actually horrible. Greasy, sleazy and pretty obviously only in it for the humping. His name apparently is Jim. We know this not because we've been formerly introduced, but because -

"Jim? Jim! JIIIIIIIEEEEEIIIIIM!"

It gets pretty hilarious when her cooking is involved. She's really rather proud of her cooking, and rightly so. She should hold great pride in the fact that she has the amazing ability to burn fucking everything, mostly due to her leaving stuff in the oven and forgetting about it due to being drunk. He knows that her food is terrible, and rarely eats when he's over. Once or twice he's accidentally let slip that he's hungry.

"JEIIIM? Why didn't you teeeell me? I know! I'll COOK something!"
"No, no, it's fine babe. I'm alright."
"NUUUU lemme COOK something!"
"No, babe..."

The most recent time this happened she decided to do some spaghetti and pancetta. How hard can that be, right? Me and the mister were in the kitchen cooking away, and she barges in as she always does and makes a big show of getting the ingredients together to use. She looks at the packet of spaghetti in her hand, and then at the recipe. 500g pack, she needs 150g for the food. Right, any normal person would weigh it out and get on with it...not Batty-Bang-Bang. She gets out the scales and weighs a single strand of spaghetti, observing the number closely through a drunken haze. Then she goes back to the pack and starts counting out the strands to make up 150g. I shit you not. She stood there counting fucking spaghetti strands. Next the pancetta, diced, and into the pan with some oil. So far so good. She stands there and complains about how pancetta it fattening for some reason, while reaching into the fridge for a block of butter. It was a new block. She strips the foil off, the cogs working in her head to estimate how much she'd need...and then halves the block, dropping the entire half into the pan with the ham. Fattening? Nah. We left her then, having done our food, Jim groaning in the room next door.

I popped back down for some water, only to see her spag and ham, swimming in brown butter on the hob, hardening at the edges. Further down there's Batty, BARE ARM UP TO HER SHOULDER IN THE OVEN, reaching bravely for some very burnt ciabatta. Ciabatty. An oven glove lay forgotten on the hob door, flopping on the floor like a limp dick. I said nothing at all, got my water and left, trying my utmost not to unleash a bray of laughter at the sounds that followed me out the door.

" Ow. OW. OWWWW. Ow. OW. Ow, that's REAAAALLY hot! Ow. OWWW. JIIIIEEEEM, the oven's HOT!"

As much as I hate Weaselly Jimmy, you have got to admire the lengths he goes to for cheap fanny.

What a hero.

I can hear your accent through your writing, its so funny.
 
In high-school I knew a guy who, had I been aware of CWC back then, would have struck me as being very similar to Chris. They're both named Chris, they're both autistic, although "my" Chris may have Aspergers instead (I've heard both from different sources), and they're both really into videogames and anime, especially Sonic.

I was (un?)lucky enough to have him in several of my classes every year although I must say 9th grade gym class was probably the best in terms of him doing hilarious stuff. once we were playing badminton and he, admittedly only possibly accidentally, got hit in the back with the shuttlecock. He LOST IT, started swearing like a drill instructor, and went storming out of the gym in his trademark, awkward walk/run/charge.

God, there's a bunch more funny shit he did, albeit less memorable than that time in gym class. Once, in drama class, he pulled out a knife and started playing with it, and our teacher, who was only there for the semester because she was on a work placement from Australia, did literally nothing about it, even though we were all telling him to put it away. There was that time in philosophy he refused to let anyone tell him that Jesus wasn't white. There was that time in communication technology class he edited some bizarre video together for an assignment. His finished product involved the stock footage of a teacher we had to edit, the default lightning effect from Adobe Premiere Elements, and some picture of some anime character that was basically a glowing orange ball with an evil face on it.

I bumped into an old colleague from H.S. on the bus back from college the other week and we were discussing him. He told me he'd bumped into Chris on the bus fairly recently, and while talking to him, Chris just randomly said "Fuck you" to him, and then carried on the conversation normally. In retrospect I can't help but wonder if all the shit he went through in school kinda screwed him up.
 
Personal lolcows for me are mostly certain individuals in NationStates (a political simulation game I play on and off, currently "off"). One such individual formerly had his own ED page but it is sadly gone. :(
 
Well, it'd be hard to pick just one...
When I was about nine or ten there was this guy at the video store who absolutely would not leave me alone. He kept trying to get me to tell him which school I went to. He said his niece was in the sixth grade at *my school.* The school I went to only went up to the fifth grade. He was a really creepy looking guy too. He was really thin and filthy looking, with long greasy hair, and an oversized mechanics jumpsuit he always wore. I say always wore because my mom and I would frequently spot him around town. Sometimes he would be pushing a baby carriage filled with all his junk.

Then there's this really weird guy in my family. They used to have to keep him away from all the young girls, he'd always want to be around us. When I was 13 and my cousin 15, he posted some weird stuff on our Facebook pages. It was only mildly sexual, but it still creeped me out. He has a habit of saying inappropriate things. He got fired from his job because he told one of his coworkers that her perfume "made her smell like a French whore." He was over once for Thanksgiving, and he started talking about sex scenes from different television shows. He's in his fifties, but there's rumors that he's still a virgin.
...I need an adult. :cryblood:
 
I have a FB lolcow.
She is a friend of a friend and she is a 'glamour model'. She's crass, brassy and goes on and ON about her "haters". Recently she posted a special edition magazine cover she appeared on. Turns out it's a photo template for a picture app. Before the photo was deleted there was a sockpuppet account commenting on how excited they were about this issue. I'm almost certain there is something hinky with the amount of likes she has, over 10k but only 17 people have posted on her page in the last two years.
 
i got one i got one.. several actually i'll tell them all separately

T, the Attempted Murderer
So I went to a very small elementary school (St. Leonard, for those wondering) which had a rather dense unbalance between cultures. I say cultures, I mean a lot of kids there, black, white, everything else alike thought that they were gangster. When I entered this school I was just a kid with a huge thing for Hello Kitty, and even anime. I started very young, age 6.

Anyways, early on I caught that you would be bullied if you didn't fit the nigger/wigger cliche (sorry for that term, I use it only when referring to these types). But there was this group of people I knew. The first guy, I'll call V (I'll tell his story later) was the wiggest wigger who ever wigged. Second guy, I'll call T, was a big bulky black kid who was almost twice my size. I was small for a second grader, but this guy was at least a foot above the tallest kid in class, thank fuck I didn't have the same class as him for most of the year. Sadly, my encounters with T did not end there. Those were the lulziest two. They were the bandanna-wearing violence-shouting types, and I tended to keep a good distance from them.

See, I'd switch classes often. Very often. That means I did end up with him. Apparently they think ADHD is the kind of thing you'd lump with spergs and 'tistics, so I got put in special classes a lot, and this was no exception. In fact, I highly suspect now that this kid had a case of the 'tism, or something worse. He had this creepy grin, and whenever I looked up to observe the students around me, he'd be giving me this methhead grin. This disturbed me greatly. I was the only one he grinned at, too.
One fine day we were beginning our trip out of the cafeteria when I was in line with everybody. We would line up by name in front of the auditorium stage, and this particular time we were instructed to sit down. So we did. T was in front of me in line, and the first thing I noticed, since I was never in close proximity until then, was that he smelled like piss. Not even kidding, he smelled rank. I tried to avert my gaze from him, but he quickly cornered me, turning and grinning at me. I was almost petrified. Without skipping a damn beat, the kid churns out a "hi" in this deep voice that would be considered post-pubescent by any sane being. I only awkwardly waved back in reply, trying not to look him in the eye. This was the first time I'd talked to this kid, if this was considered talking. That's why I was so baffled at his next vocalization, which had the slightest bit of 'tism to it. "Do you like me?" Now, I was awkward, but I was blunt because of it. That's why I did probably the worst thing possible. I shook my head, and said flatly, "No, you're creepy."

And then he flipped shit.

If you've never witnessed what many legends believe to be "tard strength", thank fuck. This kid may or may not have been tard, but he suddenly reaches right the fuck out, and takes my neck in both hands, pressing down and beginning to rattle me about as if trying to strangle me. It took two teachers and even a few students to get him away from me, but I was a crying mess at the end of it.

Afterwards, whenever I saw him in class or in the halls, he'd always make a choking gesture at me.According to those who knew him, he had a crush on me, and I don't know why. I wasn't an attractive kid, what the fuck. He then abruptly disappeared in the middle of the third grade. Rumor goes he was expelled for pulling a knife.
 
Yes, please

Happy to oblige.

This is to the best of my recollection, I don't have details for all of the (many) occurrences of Govind's creepitude.
I know Govind through NationStates, as previously mentioned in this thread. Govind has been in NS for quite a long time. The number of regions (small communities within the game with their own governments and laws) that he has been banned from is nigh uncountable.
Govind is a serial harasser and stalker of female NSers (a pretty small minority thanks to people like him). What he likes to do is approach these women and try to get them to join whatever region he's involved in with condescending, misogynistic statements such as "the region needs a woman's touch" or some other creepy shit. If they refuse (and rightly so) he has been known to stalk them IRL by using his techie skills (he has previously worked as a software engineer) through mediums including email, Skype and Facebook. This has resulted in at least one IRL restraining order.
He is like Chris in that he is in many ways stuck in childhood - he makes frequent references to Star Wars, Power Rangers and other such franchises. On NS IRC channels he will often start impromptu RPs, assigning unwilling participants various roles.
He does have Asperger's Syndrome and uses this as an excuse for his actions or a way to turn himself into a victim of "discrimination" (he often complains that I should take his side since I'm also Aspergian).
He is often poked by NS trolls in a number of ways (although any criticism of his actions, however justified, is dismissed as "trolling" by Gov, not unlike OPL). These include poking fun at his Hindu nationalism (ask him about the Indian Navy and he blows up) or asking how many regions or other NS groups he's been banned from.
 
From time to time I start to think about how everyone I ever met was retarded and wonder if I even exist. Either way, I'll tell you about some more of them.

The Goddamn Deal
He was blind as a bat and white like my ass, not as hairy but twice as ugly. Many nicknames were given to him, mostly new and creative ways to insert poop into his name (Nickapoopolas, Ropoopnick, etc.), the most descriptive might be the albino rhino but in any case we all started calling him The Deal after he watched a lot of that Jersey Shore.

He did a lot of weird shit in his life but I'll only tell you about my favorite moments.

i) One day The Deal was hanging out with his pals and they decided to go to an ice cream place called The Creamy Treat. Legend tells that he let out the most putrid fart of his life in that car the day, and the smell did linger unnaturally long. After it followed him back home everyone started to suspect something was up, something along the lines of :briefs:. Duane (from Mauvman's Exceptional Individuals #2) asked if he shit his pants, iniatially The Deal denied these claims but eventually reached the compromise that it was only a streak of shit in his briefs. After some pestering for him to admit that he did, in fact, shit his pants at the Creamy Treat he had a bit of a Freudian slip type dealio. The Deal then said confidentally "I, The Deal, did not shit my pants at the Creamy Streak." Ever since then we've referred to shit stains as creamy streaks.

ii) For this next part The Deal was in a cast on one of his legs, he just had surgery on his knee I think and was walking with a cane and shit. He was hanging out in our friend's basement and realized he was bleeding. Since he was fat and couldn't reach his foot he asked Mack to wipe it for him. Mack responded by saying he wasn't going near his gross ass feet and he'd have to do it himself. At this point the deal was freaking the fuck out and asked Mack to call his mom to tell her about it for some reason. Meanwhile, Mack looked a bit closer at The Deal's foot and realized he wasn't bleeding at all, he just stepped on a red Jujube. Upon learning this The Deal reached for it and ate it.

That's Not A Diamond - A Willie Montenegro Picture
This one happened when I was like 7 so it's a bit more excusable than the others. Pokemon was a pretty rad thing to get into at the time and I was interested in obtaining a Game Shark despite having no real idea of how they worked or even what they were. This other kid, Bimmy had one though and was willing to sell me it for like 3 dollars. At the time I thought, gee willikers that's a right swell bargain, I will definitely be interested in completing this business transaction.

The next day I came back to school with 3 dollars to buy the Game Shark, and Bimmy came with something that I was quite confident wasn't a Game Shark. It was a spring loaded little thing that you put Hot Wheels cars in and then shoot them out when you hit a button. I didn't know what a Game Shark looked like, but I assumed it would probably say Game Shark on the side and look like it wasn't made for launching fucking hotwheels cars. I told him he better bring a real Game Shark tomorrow if he wanted my 3 dollars.

What he brought the next day was even less of a Game Shark, it was in fact the most blatant lie I've ever witnessed in my entire life. I whipped out my small handful of change and he whipped out a wad of aluminum foil. "That's not a Game Shark at all!" Mauvboy Shuffleboard exclaimed. Bimmy, the sly little bitch he was replied "It totally is, it's just an ancient (or possibly Asian, it was quite some time ago) Game Shark." I called bullshit and probably spent the 3 dollars on pizza.

Good With Wood
Dick was a man with a nearly supernatural knack for woodworking. Bitten by his radioactive carpenter father at a young age Dick used his wood powers for good, but this has almost nothing to do with any of the stories about him. Instead I'll tell you about the time he shit in a bag and the long reaching consequences of that choice.

It was a warm spring day in the woods behind Dick's house, we were probably 10 or 11 at the time. Since Dick's dad was a carpenter there was always a bunch of excess wood/palettes that was good for making forts and that was always a swell way to spend time. Except for the fact the forts never got finished and the woods were filled with barely started pieces of shit and Dick was the only one that did any actual work on them while his friend of the day watched.

Since we were human beings at the time and human beings have to shit it shouldn't surprise anyone that one day Dick had to take a crap. He went inside, as expected, that's where the bathroom is after all. He returned with a plastic bag which he brought into the woods with him, and shit in it. Then he threw the bag at a tree. Then he went back inside to wipe.

Fast forward to a few years later, no one knows except the both of us. Dick's starting to be a bit of a dick and I end up telling this story to our rowdy gang of pals. Apparently this story was the exact tipping point of tolerating him, and operation Bagpoop begins. Every time he shows up to where we're sitting, we just leave. And do so repeatedly until he realizes he's unwanted because apparently we're really passive aggressive.

Eventually he sits down in the cafeteria while most of us are done eating, so everyone leaves except Cripple Jim The One Armed Wonder. Dick asks about why everyone seems to leave. Cripple Jim is a quiet boy, real nice dude and wicked buff in his good arm, but even he has a limit to how much bullshit he can tolerate. He told Dick "We don't like you, you're a piece of shit and we don't have a big enough bag to fit you in."

In other news, he apparently hates gays to the point that seeing a pride parade made him physically ill. Weird.

Dr. Bodypillow - Or How I Learned What it Feels Like to Get My Nipple Sucked By a Man
Dr. Bodypillow baffles me to this day, he's a little unsettling in every way but everyone liked him more than me. He has upwards of 50 GB of anime porn on his computer and brags about it as well as the folder maze it is obscured by that supposedly has several thousand options and a sexy anime minotaur girl guarding it. When he showed people his new bodypillow case design to people they were all honestly excited to see it and thought it was "sick" (and in the taha, tchyeah sense too).

One time he ate loose chicken out of a bag. Nothing I can even say about that. It's just unnatural.

The more important time is the time he needed a quarter though, I was in the possession of several quarters and shirtless at the time (...ladies :tomgirl:) and didn't much feel like giving him one. So I offered him a quarter if he sucked my titty operating under the assumption that nobody wants to suck my titties because my torso looks like a cross between Chunk from the Goonies and Donkey Kong. Without any hesitation his lips wrapped around my areola and I think there might have been some tongue action too. Gross. I gave him several quarters and never asked anyone to suck on my titties in jest since. Just goes to show you there are strange people that you shouldn't put anything past.

Jesus Christ versus Bart Simpson
What happens when a sheltered Christian kid taught that pokemon is a sin encounters a Simpsons themed lamp while visiting a friend's house? This portly little motherfucker took his socks off, balled them up and threw them at the lamp, knocking it over and shattering it. Saving the world from the evil influence of Bart Simpson. No one would ever have a cow again and shorts would go uneaten, all thanks to the kid that pissed in the basement because he didn't want to walk all the way upstairs.

How to Make Girls Cry
Remember that not Y2K time the world was going to end? Not the Mayan thing either, it was some time in like fucking May 2010-2012, I forget exactly when because it was the shittiest apocalypse ever. There was a girl, quite possibly the dumbest person I met that wasn't retarded. She thought she peed out her butt at the age of 17 and that Christopher Columbus and Santa Claus were the same person. So it goes without saying that she thought the world was going to end that day. I asked Dick (See above) to pass me some catsup in her general vicinity and she flipped shit at my pronunciation of ketchup before retreating into the bathroom to cry. These days I think she's fucked up on drugs and has a kid.

People are strange these days.
 
Posting up this lolcow on behalf of my future-husband. Stalking, racing cars and hypnotism fetishes ahoy!

I don't have an account here - for some reason I keep getting error messages - but I don't really want to set up an account simply for this one story, so I'm using my wife-to-be as a filter here. Anyway, this is about my own personal lolcow, who shares some similarities with her one, oddly enough.

There's a fellow on DeviantArt (heeeere we go) who watches me and has been active there for about a year. In all that time he's posted barely anything, or made any comments. Nothing too unusual so far. He has a favourite character of mine, again nothing unusual, but after a little research I've discovered that it doesn't end there.

It all started when I Googled my screen-name about a month and a half ago and stumbled across a Wikipedia page dedicated to my comics and my cast of characters. There were also references to my wife-to-be and our online friends and fellow artists. Apart from a couple of inaccuracies (which I left unedited for posterity) it was a nice surprise to find that someone had taken to the trouble to put together a fan-page for me and my work. There was even a small TVtropes page about my stuff too. Someone had clearly done their research.

This is where it gets weird. There was a Wikia page I stumbled across as well, which I am now convinced was made by the same person. The name used on this Wikia is the same as his DA screen-name. The Wikia is a collection of random stories that make little to no sense and involve a bunch of characters from various TV shows, comics etc. He seems to have latched onto my character and inserted her into several stories, often acting bizarrely out-of-character (she flirts with Dennis the Menace, his Dad and then blows up his school for instance) and there's even some very crude/traced fan art of her as well. The author clearly has a thing for car-racing and hypnotism (oddly enough a fetish shared with my wife-to-be's personal lol-cow) and works them into a lot of these 'stories'. I, myself, even apparently star in one of them!

After some April Fool's Day arty jokes involving my character (her name is April too, therefor, COMEDY!) he actually commented for the first time. It was on a parody piece I did which referenced race-cars, hypnotism and the sexiest cartoon woman ever (in his eyes at least). Whether he caught the joke or not is debatable, but he did link my other half to ANOTHER Wikia page of his, mainly concentrating on The Beano. My character appears there AGAIN, only this time she has spooky adoration writings and a full bio (none of which is accurate). He also subsequently did some fan art of her (crude MS Paint base trace and official Beano comics with her drawn into them) and commented on my artwork (though not much). I will say this much, it's given me ideas for future comics about April having a creepy stalker (hilarity ensues).

I don’t quite know how to react to all of the above. It was touching when I found the fan-pages, it was oddly funny when I found the 1st Wikia, but when my characters are having their history re-written, it’s now descended into the realms of WTF-land. He's been making comments to my other half too. She pointed out that since she kind of resembles my cartoon character (pure coincidence, character preceded out meeting) he maybe fancies her as well! Maybe he wants to hypnotise her and make her a race-car driver too! Who knows? This fellow is a real puzzle, but then we like a puzzle. And a laugh.

UPDATE - Have now discovered that said fan is a 16-year-old boy. I can kind of feel some sympathy for him now since he's clearly too young to know any better. If he was about my age I'd be more creeped out. Time will tell. Also, I found out that his birthday is the same as our wedding day! What a treat for him. He also added a fan fiction (ie. synopsis) about Hank Hill and my three daft women characters, which was clearly inspired by my latest DevianArt photo ID. Again, car-racing and large breasts played a part in it. The WTF-ness continues....
 
So I have mentioned him a few times but I have been too fucking lazy to post about his guy, so here it goes:


The Tale of Woody, Juggalo in Training.


Now, at the time I had just got out of the military and was working a shitty job at Wal-Mart while I was trying to find something that paid worth a shit. Anyways, I was living in a shitty one bedroom apartment with one of the many insane women that I had opted to date, because hey when you are 22 china is china. Anyways, one day while browsing at a new vidya store, I ran into Trucker Sperg, whom I told about a bit in chat, and I will probably discuss later. I had not seen him since I enlisted and he invited me over for a beer, and I have never turned down a free beer. So I I go over to his place, and as expected it’s trashed and smells like ass, but that’s a story for another time. Anyways, I go over there and there is this scrawny dude sitting on his couch that I don’t recognize. I can’t remember his real name, but everyone always called him Woody.

Now first of all, you must be wondering, “Why in the darn heck did you call him Woody?” Well, funny story. You see, Woody had a hard on for cowboys, because “it was his heritage.” And as such, he felt he should dress like one. This included have two pistols strapped at his hips. Now, in Arizona, this is not unusual, but the thing is, Woody could not afford to buy actual firearms, so he went to the dollar store and bout a “cowboy play set” and strapped those to his hips and wore them everywhere. Let that sink in. This was pretty sad in itself, but it gets worse. Woody did not have a job, but he was an old boyfriend and friend of Trucker Spergs nice, but a doormat girlfriend. So he was staying with them until he could get a job, and being the nice guy I was, I agreed to help him get a job at Wal-Mart, but he never applied and continued to mooch. You might also ask, “Why was he a Juggalo-in-Training?” I never got much of an explanation for this, but apparently someone was training him to be a Juggalo Ninja or some shit. But he thought you had to train to become a Juggalo and the said part is, the group of Juggalos he was trying to join up with thought he was too annoying and rejected him.

One thing about Woody is that he thought he was an artists, but he could not draw worth a shit. But he would insist on showing off his art. Now, Woody also thought he was a ladies man, despite that fact that he was basically a less functional version of Jace. One of the neighbors there was a very attractive woman, who was married to an extremely temperamental man. Woody had developed a huge crush on this chick and would often try and woo her by giving her “art”. We had to pull this guy off of Woody.

Now this continued on for some time, Woody was an ass bite who continued to mooch, opting to play video games all day instead of finding work. Of course, this upset everyone. One night, we were at Trucker Spergs place, and we were getting drunk and Woody was being really rude and disrespectful, as he liked to do whenever he felt like he was not getting enough attention. This resulted in several guys chewing him out and then beating his ass. I pulled him out of the dog pile and got him away from it and spent some time getting him to stop crying like a bitch. He left that night, riding off into the sunset and we never saw Woody again.
 
So I have mentioned him a few times but I have been too fucking lazy to post about his guy, so here it goes:


The Tale of Woody, Juggalo in Training.


Now, at the time I had just got out of the military and was working a shitty job at Wal-Mart while I was trying to find something that paid worth a shit. Anyways, I was living in a shitty one bedroom apartment with one of the many insane women that I had opted to date, because hey when you are 22 china is china. Anyways, one day while browsing at a new vidya store, I ran into Trucker Sperg, whom I told about a bit in chat, and I will probably discuss later. I had not seen him since I enlisted and he invited me over for a beer, and I have never turned down a free beer. So I I go over to his place, and as expected it’s trashed and smells like ass, but that’s a story for another time. Anyways, I go over there and there is this scrawny dude sitting on his couch that I don’t recognize. I can’t remember his real name, but everyone always called him Woody.

Now first of all, you must be wondering, “Why in the darn heck did you call him Woody?” Well, funny story. You see, Woody had a hard on for cowboys, because “it was his heritage.” And as such, he felt he should dress like one. This included have two pistols strapped at his hips. Now, in Arizona, this is not unusual, but the thing is, Woody could not afford to buy actual firearms, so he went to the dollar store and bout a “cowboy play set” and strapped those to his hips and wore them everywhere. Let that sink in. This was pretty sad in itself, but it gets worse. Woody did not have a job, but he was an old boyfriend and friend of Trucker Spergs nice, but a doormat girlfriend. So he was staying with them until he could get a job, and being the nice guy I was, I agreed to help him get a job at Wal-Mart, but he never applied and continued to mooch. You might also ask, “Why was he a Juggalo-in-Training?” I never got much of an explanation for this, but apparently someone was training him to be a Juggalo Ninja or some shit. But he thought you had to train to become a Juggalo and the said part is, the group of Juggalos he was trying to join up with thought he was too annoying and rejected him.

One thing about Woody is that he thought he was an artists, but he could not draw worth a shit. But he would insist on showing off his art. Now, Woody also thought he was a ladies man, despite that fact that he was basically a less functional version of Jace. One of the neighbors there was a very attractive woman, who was married to an extremely temperamental man. Woody had developed a huge crush on this chick and would often try and woo her by giving her “art”. We had to pull this guy off of Woody.

Now this continued on for some time, Woody was an ass bite who continued to mooch, opting to play video games all day instead of finding work. Of course, this upset everyone. One night, we were at Trucker Spergs place, and we were getting drunk and Woody was being really rude and disrespectful, as he liked to do whenever he felt like he was not getting enough attention. This resulted in several guys chewing him out and then beating his ass. I pulled him out of the dog pile and got him away from it and spent some time getting him to stop crying like a bitch. He left that night, riding off into the sunset and we never saw Woody again.
Woody reminds me a lot of Wade from GTA V.
 
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I work in an ER and I see a lot of crazy shit.

Craziest is a meth head frequent flyer we call Shitbob Stinkpants because he always shows up with DIRTY, CRAPPED BRIEFS. He's a tall rail thin nigger with smelly, ratty hair and two black front teeth. On nights he's tripping balls he'll actually eat the shit out of his pants or fling his piss at people. He's fucking gross. Sometimes I mess with him by saying the men in black are coming for his alien nigger ass (cuz he always says he's an alien trying to phone home). Nothing too serious because I don't want him actually hurting anybody. The funny part is if I tell him I'll keep the men in black away if he cooperates he usually behaves himself and lets me clean him up for his next spin into stonerville. Last time he was in I had him convinced his rectum is bigger on the inside. He doesn't watch Doctor Who or he'd recognize the TARDIS reference. He said "THEN I GUESS I CAN TAKE REALLY BIG SHITS ON YOUR FAT BLACK FACE, BITCH! NOW SUCK MY DICK!"

I wish this asshole went to rehab already. I always worry the next time he shows up he'll be a corpse.
 
I used to be in boy scouts, and we'd have a summer camp each year. You go up into the woods, sleep in tent cabins, do outdoorsy games, earn merit badges, etc. I was sharing a cabin with 4 or 5 other people, and one morning there was a pair of dirty crapped briefs on the floor. And I don't mean skidmarks, but full on shit-caked. A lot, like more shit than underwear. And of course, everyone was trying to figure out whose they were, if it was a prank, or what. We decided that we would find out whose they were by checking what kind of underwear everyone had. There were no matches, and we didn't have time to check everyone's.

The shitty underwear remained a mystery all day. That night, we had a campfire, and someone got the idea to burn the dirty crapped briefs. Everyone agreed. Except one kid. The owner. Why he thought those underwear were worth saving is beyond me. Why he was willing to out himself (he kept denying it, but it was obvious) is an even bigger mystery.

I asked him about it later. I was expecting something like explosive diarrhea, or maybe he had to stay seated for something until he couldn't hold it and was afraid to ask to go to the bathroom. What he actually said was the last thing I expected, and far worse.

"I hadn't changed them in 2 months!"

I don't remember who he rode home with, because "poopy pants kid" was banned from a lot of parents' cars that week.
 
I used to be in boy scouts, and we'd have a summer camp each year. You go up into the woods, sleep in tent cabins, do outdoorsy games, earn merit badges, etc. I was sharing a cabin with 4 or 5 other people, and one morning there was a pair of dirty crapped briefs on the floor. And I don't mean skidmarks, but full on shit-caked. A lot, like more shit than underwear. And of course, everyone was trying to figure out whose they were, if it was a prank, or what. We decided that we would find out whose they were by checking what kind of underwear everyone had. There were no matches, and we didn't have time to check everyone's.

The shitty underwear remained a mystery all day. That night, we had a campfire, and someone got the idea to burn the dirty crapped briefs. Everyone agreed. Except one kid. The owner. Why he thought those underwear were worth saving is beyond me. Why he was willing to out himself (he kept denying it, but it was obvious) is an even bigger mystery.

I asked him about it later. I was expecting something like explosive diarrhea, or maybe he had to stay seated for something until he couldn't hold it and was afraid to ask to go to the bathroom. What he actually said was the last thing I expected, and far worse.

"I hadn't changed them in 2 months!"

I don't remember who he rode home with, because "poopy pants kid" was banned from a lot of parents' cars that week.
... I have so many questions. But first I have to throw up my lunch.
 
I used to be in boy scouts, and we'd have a summer camp each year. You go up into the woods, sleep in tent cabins, do outdoorsy games, earn merit badges, etc. I was sharing a cabin with 4 or 5 other people, and one morning there was a pair of dirty crapped briefs on the floor. And I don't mean skidmarks, but full on shit-caked. A lot, like more shit than underwear. And of course, everyone was trying to figure out whose they were, if it was a prank, or what. We decided that we would find out whose they were by checking what kind of underwear everyone had. There were no matches, and we didn't have time to check everyone's.

The shitty underwear remained a mystery all day. That night, we had a campfire, and someone got the idea to burn the dirty crapped briefs. Everyone agreed. Except one kid. The owner. Why he thought those underwear were worth saving is beyond me. Why he was willing to out himself (he kept denying it, but it was obvious) is an even bigger mystery.

I asked him about it later. I was expecting something like explosive diarrhea, or maybe he had to stay seated for something until he couldn't hold it and was afraid to ask to go to the bathroom. What he actually said was the last thing I expected, and far worse.

"I hadn't changed them in 2 months!"

I don't remember who he rode home with, because "poopy pants kid" was banned from a lot of parents' cars that week.


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