• Reminder: Do not call, text, or mention harrassing someone in real life. Do not encourage it. Do not talk about killing or using violence against anyone, or engaging in any criminal behavior. If it is not an obvious joke even when taken out of context, don't post it. Please report violators.

    DMCA, complaints, and other inquiries:

    [email protected]

We’re getting at least 35 years in prison…

G

guest

Guest
Harry Kilmer said:
I’m already over this guy. He sucks. At least Patrick was a published author, had legitimate “fans” and “hanger-ons” like Laura Rich, had occasional interactions with people like the dudes who wrote The Expanse, etc.

This guy has nothing and is nothing and we are providing him with excitement.

Pat is one of a kind.
Click to expand...
We embarrassed ourselves in a way. While shitting our pants with laughter. Shane’s still hilarious.
 
quasi101
  • Deleted by N/A
Show…
G

guest

Guest
DickensCoffee_mybb said:
Skip this if you don’t want a long, gay rant:

There is a reason why people like this piss me off.

I have an auto immune disorder and at one point I was on medications they give to chemotherapy patients because it was that or die.

Between those medications and the corticosteroids which eats away at your muscle, causes extreme water retention and destroys your metabolism, I ballooned up pretty big.

When I boxed I was at 145. I was incredibly lean, so lean that I would probably die if that weight now because of what ended up happening to me healthwise. So I try to cruise around 160. I’m not a very big guy. I stopped boxing because I was terrible at it, enjoyed martial arts more, and found out I also had a blood clotting disorder so that if I got punched in the nose or broke another limb, I could get blood clots and die. That was how they found my blood clotting disorder in the first place, from a broken leg and a pulmonary embolism. My lungs collapsed and that was one of three times that I should’ve died.

It would’ve been incredibly easy to go on disability. But I wanted to have kids someday. Something else was more important than me.

Even as I eventually became moderately successful in my creative career, I still kept a crappy job just so they knew that I worked outside of the house. So they knew that I worked hard.

I’ve also helped people get sober because someone once helped me. A big part of that is getting people busy. Give them something to do. Literally that’s all it takes sometimes. They don’t need secret meetings like Jimmy, although that can help. What they really need is something more important than their drinking or their laziness or their sloth or their dumb disability that gets them working, that keeps their mind and body busy. I wanted to be able to run with my kids at the playground so I lost a bunch of weight, got off the medication, learned how to treat myself, which took a year of research.

Once I was off the meds and busy working out, guess what happened? My knees don’t hurt anymore, they actually work. I figured out how to strengthen my ligaments and my tendons so I could walk, so I could run. It took years.

You have no fucking idea how goddamn angry it makes me when people just make excuses to give up. There’s no goddamn excuse for being that big. None. I feel for this guy, it seems like he went through hell physically. I would, not ironically, help the guy if I ever got the chance. I’ve helped others do it. I feel bad that his mom messed him up. I feel bad that he’s had all these physical issues that are beyond his control. He was dealt a shitty hand and I’m not gonna pretend that it’s his fault that the deck was stacked against him.

But he seems smart enough to get himself together. He needs to stop with the bullshit. He needs to get away from video games, get off the fucking computer, and fix himself. Don’t rely on doctors, although you should have a good one to help you. Rely on yourself. Go learn what it is you need to do to fix your body. There’s always an answer. Always. I’m never going to be the athlete I was when I was younger, not that I was all that athletic. But you know what I mean.

I know what my ceiling is genetically and I’m doing everything I can to reach it. I never will, almost no one does, but it gets me up in the morning. It gets me to the gym. It gets me walking, it gets me to the playground with the kids.

I went from barely being able to get out of the bed and weighing almost 250 pounds on my small frame to about 165 pounds and out running my son on the soccer field. I could barely walk! I don’t want to hear excuses.

All of these terminally online people who are outraged over every little thing that happens to them, and they have to write their shitty reviews when Midas looks at them funny or when their food is delivered late from DoorDash, have nothing else to occupy them. Who in the fucking hell has time to worry about pronouns and outrage culture when you’ve got something else going on in your life that keeps you busy, occupied, satisfied and striving for something else?

Oh and I promised that this rant would be gay. So here goes: Penis.
Click to expand...
You sound sexy.
 
G

guest

Guest
CQ_1 said:
You sound sexy.
Click to expand...
I am, child. Everywhere I go, 19 year old girls (mostly in bikinis) come up to me and they ask me if I’m married and I just hold out my hand so they can see the ring and I wiggle my fingers and I say “you’re outta luck, Sweet Summer child.”

Most of them start crying right away.

Then through their tears they ask me if I’m willing to cheat on my wife so that I could satisfy their needs. I tell them to wait for a minute while I go over to the dumbbell rack and I pick up a pair of 60 pound dumbbells. I’ll bring them over and make the girls hold them.

“Do you think you can carry these around on the stairmaster? No? Because my wife does that with her big muscular ass while holding my kids, one in each arm and one on her back as we go hiking AND carrying groceries and her work bag. So until you can do what she does, you’re out of luck sweet baby summer child infant little nothing.”

And the ones that weren’t already crying by that point are now in tears as I walk away so I can go to the gym for the fourth time that day because I’m obviously training for a marathon.

Child.
 
G

guest

Guest
DickensCoffee_mybb said:
I am, child. Everywhere I go, 19 year old girls (mostly in bikinis) come up to me and they ask me if I’m married and I just hold out my hand so they can see the ring and I wiggle my fingers and I say “you’re outta luck, Sweet Summer child.”

Most of them start crying right away.

Then through their tears they ask me if I’m willing to cheat on my wife so that I could satisfy their needs. I tell them to wait for a minute while I go over to the dumbbell rack and I pick up a pair of 60 pound dumbbells. I’ll bring them over and make the girls hold them.

“Do you think you can carry these around on the stairmaster? No? Because my wife does that with her big muscular ass while holding my kids, one in each arm and one on her back as we go hiking AND carrying groceries and her work bag. So until you can do what she does, you’re out of luck sweet baby summer child infant little nothing.”

And the ones that weren’t already crying by that point are now in tears as I walk away so I can go to the gym for the fourth time that day because I’m obviously training for a marathon.

Child.
Click to expand...
A love story in the making.... IN SPACE!
 
You must log in or register to reply here.
Top