My Friends' Marriage Is Like This
A: I need you to move this box.
B: (while playing video games) My back. I can't lift anything!
A: Bullshit. Bullshit!
B: (magic fireball-tossing gesture, magic fireball-tossing sound effect)
A: I'm going to magic fireball you in a minute, mister.
B: (while getting up to move box) Only if that can be a sex act.
Valuable Life Lessons Learned From Skyrim
If you must steal, steal only objects that have a high value-to-weight ratio. It’s important to have a significant other, so you can have someone to carry your extensive collection of dragon bones. Tall people really hate it when you disrespect elephants. If someone asks you do something that you don’t like the sound of, go to the person they hate the most and offer to do the exact...
Ways I Have Angered My Girlfriend This Evening
Told her that her breasts were in “ready” mode. Maintaining eye contact, slowly pushed them up and together while making a mechanical clankingnoise. Told her the “Grand Cannon” was now “deployed and operational.” Let go of breasts while making an explosion noise. Told her I was documenting her reaction on the blog. When she objected, told her I had “no...
When they were introduced, he made a witticism, hoping to be liked. She laughed...– David Foster Wallace, “A Radically Condensed History of Postindustrial Life,” from Brief Interviews with Hideous Men.
The Tide Makes Three
This is a short story in very rough draft. I wrote the bones of it a long time ago and just made some major changes. Feel free to let me know what you think. — You can see it coming, as it always does, in the slowly diminishing high-water mark of the glass, as inexorable as the tide. There’s no letting go, now, no stopping it. She drains the glass and pushes it away, her smile sparkling....
All right. Fine. I surrender.
From hell’s heart I melee at thee! For hate’s sake I chuck my last sticky at thee!
Re: Halo Remake
fucking needler fucking needler fucking needler
Re: the Penn State thing, I just want to point out that no one should be surprised that everyone in this situation behaved like a dick. True story—the very first night I spent in Philadelphia I woke up and went outside for a cigarette and tripped over 9mm brass all over my girlfriend’s doorstep. At least 7% of why I broke up with her was that Pennsylvania blows.
Fair warning: tomorrow they’re releasing a tenth anniversary remake of the original Halo for the Xbox 360. This means that I’m going to be abandoning all pretense to maturity for 24 hours or so and just posting obscenities every time I bash one of those slumbitch gold Elites in the back of the skull with my pistol.
distorte asked: did you write that thing about the value of an orgasm yourself or was that taken from somewhere? because i may have been over-valuing your blog this whole time.
cesmoments asked: did you write that thing about the value of an orgasm yourself or was that taken from somewhere? because i may have been under-valuing your blog this whole time.
cesmoments asked: i follow you and i'm 19. but you were close, points for trying.
Based on an average of my current followers, unless otherwise specified, I am going to assume that everyone I interact with is 17 years old.
There are about six people I keep following over and over, and, guys, I don’t know if you’re starting new blogs or what, but would you stay on my fucking follow list for five minutes? Damn. This also means that if I’ve interacted with you in the past and I’m not following you now, drop me a line. Or even if we haven’t; I’m looking for some new blood.
The Value of Orgasms
A: You know what I don't get?
B: Good beer? Because I don't see how you're drinking that shit. I really don't.
B: Okay. Explain.
A: I mean fundamentally I don't see what the big deal is.
B: The big deal about reproduction? I don't know, man, I think it's, uh, pretty important to the species.
A: Okay, yes, I get that. Evolutionary mandate. We are programmed to pursue it. I get that bit. What I don't get is how people can spend so much time talking about it.
B: People talk about things they're thinking about. And people are always thinking about sex.
A: Which is a joke, really, because we spend more time talking about and thinking about sex than actually having it. The event itself is really a nonevent. Think about this. I mean, the actual act lasts for what, an hour, max? That's including the dancing around it and the foreplay, mind you. Any more time than that, and it's more work than it is fun. For example, pornography.
B: How so?
A: Think about this: does anyone actually watch a porn all the way through? I mean, so, you put it on, you watch the sex happen, you get off... and then what? Do you watch the rest of the sex? Hell no. You got what you came for. Once you're not horny anymore, you don't care about looking at some people you don't know naked. You're on to other things. You got places to be. You're not sticking around for the credits, you know?
B: Well, sure. But the event itself.
A: The event itself is not much. Moment of pleasure. When it's being led up to, it's all-important. After it happens, nothing has really changed. At some point in the future, you will get turned on again, and you will probably have some more sexual activity with somebody. Who, where, when you don't know, but you will, unless you die first. The need itself can be satiated by pretty much anyone, even yourself, and while it's not the same, masturbation will still get rid of the need and let your mind move to other things.
B: Good sex can be an incredible experience. Mind-blowing, even.
A: So can good food, you know? When you're hungry. But it doesn't matter what kind of food someone offers you if you're not hungry—you're not going to eat it. Would sex mean anything to us if we didn't have some biological impulse to get it on? Couldn't I be an arbitrarily more efficient person if I devoted all that time I think about trying to get sex into some other avenue? After all, the meaning of life couldn't just be sex, right?
B: The drift here seems to be that you'd rather not have the desire for sex, if you could change that.
A: Yeah. In a way. Sometimes I think to myself, if I died tomorrow, what would I be wishing I had done more? And the answer's never "I wish I had more orgasms. Man, there just weren't enough orgasms in my life. If I had come one more time with, say, Patricia, I could die a fulfilled and happy man." Not that I don't enjoy orgasms, but in the long run...
B: Well, that's a hard question to answer in the first place. Because how do you answer that? Do you say, "I wish I had spent more time with my family and friends?" That's the answer, sometimes. But what exactly do you wish you were doing with your family?
A: Exactly. Playing checkers? Monopoly? As much as board games and dinner table conversation can be satisfying, can you name an individual facet of those experiences that is fundamentally truer to the self or more vital than having an orgasm? Really all this comes down to is that I really don't understand what lasting, existential value there is to an orgasm as opposed to another activity. I guess there isn't any. It's like ascribing lasting value to a slice of pie, or a sunset.
B: So what?
A: So the orgasm is not the value. It's something else—something that the orgasm, the pie, and the sunset symbolize—that is the value.
B: But what is value?
A: If we knew what value was, and how to produce it directly, rather than all these means, means, means, means to an end... would we do any of those things?
B: Then you have to wonder—are there ends? Or are there just means?
A: When you say things like that, I feel sick.
B: It's probably the beer.
Problems with my life include that while I really hate the idea of getting on Twitter—I mean, additional social media, fucking horrifying—it seems that other people are saying funny things without me, which is a concept I have had trouble accepting since grade school. EDIT: This doesn’t apply to Facebook because nothing funny has ever or will ever be said on Facebook. No temptation.
If you had four genius guys in Pavement that were writing tunes, we could’ve...– Stephen Malkmus in GQ. (via pitchfork) I have always loved Pavement while hating Stephen Malkmus (“Jenny and the Ess-Dog,” enough said), and this only reinforces the idea that somehow everyone else in Pavement were the geniuses that somehow made Malkmus write good songs, whereas apart...
Fanatics have their dreams, wherewith they weave A paradise for a sect; the...– John Keats, The Fall of Hyperion: A Dream.
Offensive and unlikable people with bad arguments and reasoning skills may still be right by simple chance.
God preserve me from ever living in a world run by rational utilitarians.
If aliens read TVTropes, they would undoubtedly come to the conclusion that the three most popular entertainment franchises in the world were Warrior Cats, Warhammer 40K and The Dresden Files. This constitutes sufficient evidence that the site must be destroyed.