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I feel cheated that Gonterman and CWC never did a crossover.mlwalsh said:Gonterman, CWC, Issei Mataloun, Adam Chris Leigh, and Tom Dyron.
Chanbob said:Right. I've been lurking here and reading some pretty hilarious stories (Little Biscuits, we need more from you!), and I think it's time to share my personal lolcow.
To protect her identity (but hellfire I would LOVE to name and shame), I will refer to her as Batty, as she is genuinely batshit insane. I live in a shared house with my partner, a really nice quiet guy who mostly keeps to himself, and Batty. I've lived here for almost two years now, and I've been trying my utmost to get the hell out of here with the mister for the last one, but finance always prevents us as we are only really just scraping by right now.
It's a long-ass story, so I'll bosh it in a spoiler -
Batty is a 31 year old woman with an alcohol problem and the mind of a child. The house we live in was once hers; she lived here with her fiance and his baby son (not hers), but he left her rather abruptly six years ago for reasons you will probably figure out on your own, hence the rented out rooms. Now Batty at the moment seems like a figure to pity, and at first I did...until things got out of hand.
Batty literally is a womanchild; how she's actually managed to reach 31 I have no clue. She's very petty and asinine, throwing literal tantrums complete with screaming, throwing stuff, slamming doors and tears when things don't go her way, and by things 'not going her way', I mean things as stupid as the dishwasher not being unloaded or her clothes not being dry in the morning after washing them. The times of day she has these tantrums seems to not matter to her as they range from midday to midnight, even the early hours of the morning.
This childishness is fortified by her genuine overriding stupidity; on more than one occasion we have caught Batty doing shit that you just can't make up. Three out of the four of us in the house smoke, so sometimes we get stray dogends on the doorstep and path. Usually we sweep them up or use a plastic bag to get them, but not our dear, stupid Batty ding-dongs. Nope. After hearing a strange noise in the garden, me and the mister take a peek out the open front door, following the confused snake of an electrical cable out into the open. Batty was hoovering the pavement. In the rain. Her granny skirts billowing about her pasty legs, Batty screeches out at us over the asthmatic hum of the vacuum cleaner, through a mess of drizzle, glasses and damp hair,
"Heeeeeey guuuuuuys, I'm just CLEANING THE FLOOOOOOOOOR!"
No shit.
About five minutes in the hoover let out a sickly chugging cough and died, killed to death by gravel, dirt and soggy fagends. We left her squawking confusedly over why the hoover had broken, her face the picture of confoundment.
Other famous moments from Batty include:
- Not realising that fabric softener alone does not wash clothes;
- She cleans EVERYTHING with neat bleach, and I mean everything, and wonders why the paint on the doors peels;
- Genuinely believing that keeping the doors and windows closed will make clothes dry faster;
- Botching various house repairs, including making various pipes around the house leak profusely;
- Spray painting a perfectly good Singer sewing machine white in a room with bright red leatherette sofas and not covering the furniture;
- Attempting to hack weeds out of the cracks in concrete with a garden hoe (CLONK, scrape, CLONK, scrape, CLONK);
Seriously, I could list those all day. But I won't, as the tale of Batty doesn't end there...
Batty, as we have mentioned before, has a serious alcohol problem. She is literally always on the sauce, to the point where we could build an extension with all the booze bottles we collect on a weekly basis. This was funny at first, but combined with her other behaviors, it's quickly gotten out of hand; we've even caught her red-handed stealing booze out of our supply when her's runs out and the shops are shut, and even telling us to go buy booze for her when she's too drunk to get more.
To make the above worse, she frequently crash-diets, living off those shitty one-milkshake-a-day diet plans in a pathetic attempt to lose weight. As she never gives up the booze during these diets, she literally becomes a walking clusterfuck for about a month, until she caves and starts eating takeaways every single night. She will literally order curry, Chinese or pizza every night, stinking out the bins as she never bags up her rubbish. As a result her body is a weird shape; flabby, blotchy, with big bulky legs and arms, but a narrower waist and mossie-bite tits. Strange looking creature.
Going on from this, we go on to the nastier of Batty's issues...she's a MASSIVE FUCKING WHORE. I type no word of a lie when I say that she will have a guy over at least five days a week for a booze-fuelled screechy sex session. Sometimes we recognise regulars, but often they're one-hit-wonders. The funniest bit is that she usually makes a big meal out of cleaning before her latest swinging dick comes over, cleaning the entire house in anticipation of the hideous bumping of the ugliest of uglies. She's genuinely convinced that if the house isn't spotless, she'll get no sex. This is brilliant as we love deliberately leaving out the odd stray piece of litter or cutlery item just before her gigolo gets here, just to see her flap around and whine and scream. The worst bit is the actual event itself. See, Batty has one of those screechy high-pitched voices that goes right through you, and hearing her coital rutting calls is bone-chilling to say the least. She'll do them anywhere; her room, the bathroom, the lounge, she doesn't care. We have, however found a counterattack for the bathroom squeaky hide-the-pink-loofah antics - our room is next to the bathroom, and we tend to counter the racket with a hearty, loud dose of either some decent \M/ETAL (Finntroll works well, as does Septic Flesh) or The Wurzels.
I mentioned her voice, didn't I? Oh, she fancies herself a singer. She sings unbearably loudly to herself whenever she's in the house as if to say 'MY HOUSE, I'M HOME, FUCK YOU I'M THE FUCKING QUEEN HERE!'. The worst part is that it's always the same line of just one song at a time. Drives you fucking bonkers.
I also mentioned the bathroom. Well, Batty-boom-batty also loves baths. Long. FUCKING. BATHS. We only have the one bathroom between us, and we usually try to be as considerate as we can...all but her, of course. She has at least two baths a day, each hours long. This may seem minor, but when you're busting for a piss and all you can hear is shithead mcgee sloshing scented water around, watching Eastenders on her phone and singing 'Aaaaaand IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEE-III-EEEEE-IIIII will ALways LEEEEEEEEEEEV YOOOOOOOOOO-UUU-OOOOOOOOOOO' over and over again, it gets real old real quick. Oh, and if you're in the bathroom when she needs to be in there, she'll scream outside the door and mash at the handle like a horror movie monster until you get out. Classy bitch we got here.
Jumping back to the sexytimes, as I have established she will attempt to mount anything with a pulse; guests, housemates, even my own brother. It's gotten so bad that we never have friends over anymore as she will barge in unannounced every single time and make a general nuisance of herself, pining for attention and wearing the lowest cut top she has that isn't soiled with her last conquest's panic sweat. If she knows we're having guests over, on occasion she'll 'plant' her bras around the house, only to saunter in and pick them up, dangling them in front of her target with an 'Oooooooops! Ohh mai god I'm sooooo silly! Tee hee!'. If they stay the night (if they're brave enough that is), she'll often 'stumble' into the room 'accidentally' in a pathetic attempt to get enough attention to gobble some new cock.
Amongst all of this, there are stranger moments of just outright weird behavior. She almost always walks around the house in a filthy white dressing gown, which is creepy enough, but couple that with the fact that she just sometimes sits on the stairs and moans like a exceptional individual, screams to herself in her room, and paces the house in the middle of the night crying, and you know that you really, really want to move the fuck out already.
So that's the ongoing story of Batty the faghag-boozegargling-pinksausageslotmachine-womanchild, or as much as I can stomach to write right now. All I can say from this cautionary tale is that, seriously, fuck Batty.![]()
sparklemilhouse said:i was looking at vintage backpacks on ebay, and I just remembered this lolcow from middle and high school days, Sean Hubbard. Something was UP with that kid. I think he was a smart kid, but he was just so awkward, tall, and loud, and gangly, and his teeth were all gum. He'd try to act cool on the bus, and try to converse with the other kids, but it was just this loud nonsense that would come out his mouth.
Other kids: Did you see the mtv awards last night??
Sean: THE PRODIGY GUY SPIT ON THE STAGE!
Also, one time he was eating a pomegranate on the bus, (this was before they were popular), and he was like, "DOES ANYBODY WANT ANY POMEGRANATE??"
He also had this GIANT camping backpack, but for school. It was this one:
http://i.ebayimg.com/t/Vintage-Jansport ... ~60_57.JPG
One time he threw it on the bus seat, and it nearly hit this girl, and she pitched a beautiful bitch fit about it.
Sean's probably a fucking engineer now.
tobacky_vapor said:Null said:ARC Music Factory specifically produces bad music videos for the sake of having them go viral and catching mad $$dosh$$.
"My Jeans" is another video produced by them and is much less known because the talent featured, in this case Jenna Rose, flipped shit after Rebecca Black got bullied out of life for her video. They took the video down upon request, but it's been mirrored a bunch.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0XMy9WeI_fw
This song is actually something I personally like. It's not because of the video or lyrics, but I really like her voice. I think she could do much better.
(Also notice the very random black person that shows up in both My Jeans and Friday. It's a part of their formula.)
(P.P.S. The song is called My Jeans but she's not wearing jeans. Also a part of the joke and intentionally bad aspect.)
Yeah that's the one thing I've never understood about people going after the kids to have these music videos of them, THEY'RE FUCKING KIDS! They don't know better yet, they thin, what they're doing is cool, why the FUCK do grown ass adults want to hurt these kids.
Buuuut there is another video made by a adult, and I swear I think she is just trolling here.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XMgcHv-HGCY
Not since "The Management Secrets of T. John Dick" have we seen such a tale of incompetence and stupidity told from the viewpoint of the moron. The masterful parody penned by Kirk Hastings puts Stephen Colbert to shame as he plays the rube, making one catastrophic error after another.
The book is a careful and meticulous catalog of bad data and logical fallacies. I'd initially considered writing a "spot the logical fallacy" drinking game to go with the book, but decided against it, as most mere mortals would be suffering from alcohol poisoning before long.
The book is an amusing read for anyone with a fifth grade science education or above. It could also be used as a teaching tool, where students are given a section and asked to research the claims made. Given the incredible ease with which the "evidence" in "What Is Truth?" can be debunked, it would be an easy task for most students of middling or greater intelligence. More advanced students would quickly become bored with such an assignment however, as disproving the claims of "What Is Truth?" can quickly degrade into mere busy work.
When reading it, remember, it's just a parody. Taking this book seriously would make most people weep at the decline of the American education system.
Many parodies and satires have a "tell" of some kind. This book's "tell" is the section on superstition. In it Hastings takes the reader on a brief trip back into logic and reason. He discusses the nature of superstition. For a tantalizing moment he makes the reader hope that they're about to be treated to a discussion of how Hastings believes Christianity differs from mere superstition, or how faith allows him to choose Christianity over Buddhism, Islam or another faith. In a deft twist of the knife, Hastings crashes the car and dismisses naturalism of all things as just another superstition, even though naturalism is the only thing for which there is actual evidence. The psychological whiplash crashes the reader straight back into Kirk's bizarre world of debunked arguments, logical fallacies and recanted or out of context quotes.
random_pickle said:I found a review of his book that thinks it is a parody:
Not since "The Management Secrets of T. John Dick" have we seen such a tale of incompetence and stupidity told from the viewpoint of the moron. The masterful parody penned by Kirk Hastings puts Stephen Colbert to shame as he plays the rube, making one catastrophic error after another.
The book is a careful and meticulous catalog of bad data and logical fallacies. I'd initially considered writing a "spot the logical fallacy" drinking game to go with the book, but decided against it, as most mere mortals would be suffering from alcohol poisoning before long.
The book is an amusing read for anyone with a fifth grade science education or above. It could also be used as a teaching tool, where students are given a section and asked to research the claims made. Given the incredible ease with which the "evidence" in "What Is Truth?" can be debunked, it would be an easy task for most students of middling or greater intelligence. More advanced students would quickly become bored with such an assignment however, as disproving the claims of "What Is Truth?" can quickly degrade into mere busy work.
When reading it, remember, it's just a parody. Taking this book seriously would make most people weep at the decline of the American education system.
Many parodies and satires have a "tell" of some kind. This book's "tell" is the section on superstition. In it Hastings takes the reader on a brief trip back into logic and reason. He discusses the nature of superstition. For a tantalizing moment he makes the reader hope that they're about to be treated to a discussion of how Hastings believes Christianity differs from mere superstition, or how faith allows him to choose Christianity over Buddhism, Islam or another faith. In a deft twist of the knife, Hastings crashes the car and dismisses naturalism of all things as just another superstition, even though naturalism is the only thing for which there is actual evidence. The psychological whiplash crashes the reader straight back into Kirk's bizarre world of debunked arguments, logical fallacies and recanted or out of context quotes.
I think the reviewer was making fun of the book and its author.random_pickle said:I found a review of his book that thinks it is a parody:
Ja'mie said:I'm watching an Extreme Cheapskates marathon right now, and I am alternately laughing and shuddering at what these people are doing to save money. And most of them are at least financially comfortable--all of them can at least afford to buy a roll of toilet paper and use electricity. One guy even wants to book a strip club during the day time for his daughter's 16th birthday.
caffeinated_wench said:Ja'mie said:I'm watching an Extreme Cheapskates marathon right now, and I am alternately laughing and shuddering at what these people are doing to save money. And most of them are at least financially comfortable--all of them can at least afford to buy a roll of toilet paper and use electricity. One guy even wants to book a strip club during the day time for his daughter's 16th birthday.
I haven't seen much of that show, but I do recall seeing the one about the woman who still uses cloth squares as toilet paper and makes a salad out of what she picks from the park. And buys food from the Salvation Army. (I think that's what it was? Either way, walking in with those expensive-looking clothes and getting food meant for the less fortunate?)
Ja'mie said:caffeinated_wench said:Ja'mie said:I'm watching an Extreme Cheapskates marathon right now, and I am alternately laughing and shuddering at what these people are doing to save money. And most of them are at least financially comfortable--all of them can at least afford to buy a roll of toilet paper and use electricity. One guy even wants to book a strip club during the day time for his daughter's 16th birthday.
I haven't seen much of that show, but I do recall seeing the one about the woman who still uses cloth squares as toilet paper and makes a salad out of what she picks from the park. And buys food from the Salvation Army. (I think that's what it was? Either way, walking in with those expensive-looking clothes and getting food meant for the less fortunate?)
Cloth toilet paper lady is on right now
FatNero said:Ja'mie said:caffeinated_wench said:I haven't seen much of that show, but I do recall seeing the one about the woman who still uses cloth squares as toilet paper and makes a salad out of what she picks from the park. And buys food from the Salvation Army. (I think that's what it was? Either way, walking in with those expensive-looking clothes and getting food meant for the less fortunate?)
Cloth toilet paper lady is on right now
Cloth? And she calls herself a cheapskate? What's wrong with a finger?