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What I find curious about this particular female is that she was able to find a man drunk enough to be willing to fuck her and at the same time able to maintain an erection while looking at that face. As a man once said of his dog, if my dog had a face like that, I'd shave its ass and make it walk backwards. Oh! That's it! Doggy style!

Those who know me know that I am a big fan or dark humor. I suppose the difference here is that the stories I chuckle at are fictitious whereas this one is all too real and my funny bone can't stretch that far. So, no chuckle here on this one. But I'm glad some can.

So, she gave birth at home but wasn't sure until then that she was pregnant. Apparently, this vacuous vixen doesn't know pregnancy test kits are readily available at drug stores, nor that there are people called doctors who can provide insight in such cases. The cherry on top is, of course, appearing in a theater performance before coming back home to bury her dead baby; just another chore to line-thru on that pesky To-Do list. I somewhat question the possibility of a conviction since she seems to have the foundation for a persuasive plea of I'm a fuckin' nutcase. Perhaps we can at least ensure no future offenses of this kind but shoving a white-hot poker where it will do the most good. God! I hate this bitch!

I hope the box holds what I asked Santa for after I answered, Naughty!

Love the pants feature and would like to see more men wear it. However ... like the monokini (topless swimsuit for women by Rudy Gernreich from decades ago), most of those who would wear them shouldn't, and those who should, won't. Quelle dommage!

About 20 years ago I met a dancer in one of DC's Dupont Circle stripper bars and we agreed to meet later for a hook-up for a price. In those days, I was mortified at the thought of being seen dragging a handsome young man across a hotel lobby at 2:00 in the morning, so I would give him the hotel name and room number, then go to wait in the room. "Francois" (his stripper name) was from Montreal and was hot, handsome, and hung, three qualities I greatly admire in any man. We were just getting into our time together when he got a phone call, the gist of which was that his roommate was pissed and was trying to throw out Francois' things from the apartment, most concerning of which to Francois was a computer. He was visibly distressed over this and said he had to leave. I was so touched by his emotional response to the news that I gave him the full amount we had agreed to. He looked at me with a perplexed stare and said, "Why would you do that?" My honest answer was that I'm not going to make your bad night any worse and I truly feel sorry for your situation. He put his knapsack down, took off his clothes, and left several hours later. (It was very good!) I saw Francois almost every month for the next two years, before he moved back to Montreal, after which we lost contact. I regret I did not keep in touch and hope his life turned out well. He was not just a beautiful man; he was a beautiful soul. I guess my point relative to this thread and the young man who left money on the table is that in this fee-based business we call our hobby, it's still a two-way street, and fairness and consideration should flow both ways.

I would love to monk-ee around with this one!

I am more than a little embarrassed to admit that I find this hilarious. Well done - and shame on me!😄

In the summer of 1967, I was in a monastery on the west side of Detroit, beginning studies for the priesthood. (BTW - it didn't take.) One night that summer a huge riot broke out in Detroit, about 5 miles from our location. We students went up to the roof and could see a wide-angle expanse or orange glow as fires ravaged the riot-torn area. In the riot's aftermath, I and my fellow students, as part of multi-faith initiative, went to the devasted neighborhoods to go door-to-door and ask if we could offer help (food, clothing, and so on) to any who needed it. The priests lent us their Roman collars to go with our black suits, so we looked like junior priests, and even more out of place. At one house, we were greeted by a young Black man, near our own age, and who couldn't believe what he saw in front of him. With a huge smile and eyes wide open, he laughed and asked, What are you guys doing here? We made our offer of help, but he declined saying he and his family were fine. But then he said there was one thing we might help with. You see, he said, I got this uncle named Jack. And my uncle has gotten up on this elephant [not a horse in this story] and now can't get down. So, could you guys help my Uncle Jack off the elephant? My partner snorted at the question and I turned to him wondering why. I then turned back to the young man and said, Yes, of course we'll help. My partner now laughed out loud and the young man's eyes got even bigger. No, no, man, See, my uncle's stuck up on this elephant and would you help my Uncle Jack off the elephant? My partner is now bent over laughing and I again say to the young man, Yes, of course we'll help your uncle! My partner collapses in a fit of laughter and the young man seems ready to go into convulsions. I think now that I'm obviously supposed to say "No" but cannot understand why we wouldn't help this young man's poor uncle. After one more round of back and forth, my now hysterically laughing partner begins to pull me away and down the steps saying goodbye and we're sorry to the young Black man, who now has a story to tell of a completely clueless Catholic boy who didn't even know what "jack off" meant. There was a time I was that innocent. And that clueless. How things have changed.

There is a 2003 book by Lynne Truss titled Eats, Shoots & Leaves, which inside points out the difference between "A Panda eats shoots and leaves," and "A Panda eats, shoots, and leaves." One statement describes dietary habits and the other requires a post-lunch gunshot. The book's subtitle is The Zero Tolerance Approach to Punctuation, and I have always loved it! (But unlike the author's title, I am also unabashedly committed to the Oxford comma!) Thank you for the reminder!

Having viewed his offerings on Twitter, I've concluded bottoming for this man could be considered a form of assisted suicide.

As Altaira Morbius (Anne Francis) said in Forbidden Planet, "The two end ones are unbelievable!"

But the lexicon can cause some confusion, such as when Medicare advises that if I have questions about the billing, I should contact my provider.

Normally I'd think 8-9 inches on Monday would be the end of a wonderful weekend, but 14-17 would probably make me check my deductible for an ER visit. Ouch! Tell me where it hurts!

I love strawberries but have noticed their increasing lack of sweetness over time. My solution is to sprinkle a little artificial sweetener over them. But I am still berry thankful for your input.

Agreed, but neither does her husband sleeping with the other husband. Unless this AI thing has gotten completely out of hand.

Good judgement comes from experience. Experience comes from poor judgement.

Thank you posting this and for the shiver up my spine, the lump in my throat, and the tear in my eye. I can only rejoice in the love and joy these two felt and shared and the good life Eli had as an adoptee, even though, through Colton, he was already a member of the family. And let it not go unsaid - Colton was very cute! Thank you, Colton, for your service and your sacrifice.

Ahh! The gorgeous mass of muscles known as John Bronco!

I confess! said I. To what? asked he. Interrogate me more!!! And roughly!

Simply adorable!

I'd love to read between his lines!

And you have no TikTok video to share with the class!?! Mon Dieu!

I'm glad you think its beef, but since the government has standards for how much rodent hair can be in hot dogs -and other similar contaminates- we can never really be sure. This may have contributed to the creation of such maxims as Ignorance is Bliss, and I aspire to a blissful meal every time I dine out.