The Limbic System is more than a bunch of structures that allow you to thrust your penis into the depths of a prospective female’s sensation-inducing orifices. It also controls the parts that store these conquests for future masturbation.
When guys have a night off from work and the opposite sex, they sometimes like to stay in and watch a movie. I sincerely hope you are not one of those guys, because that level of lameness doesn't even qualify for 0 stars.
Tired of waking up and exclaiming, 'I am fucking HUNGOVER, bro'? Of course you are! Try on this handy 5-star rating system to adequately depict your level of hungoverness to your friends.
Waking up on your girlfriend's couch? No big deal, she'll forgive you. Waking up in the forest after leaving your car at the scene of a hit and run accident on the highway? Yeah, you fucked up.
Waking up on your bedroom floor? No big deal, you fell out of bed. Waking up next to a hobo under the Fremont Bridge with your wallet in the crotch of your boxers? Yeah, you fucked up.
When is it OK to inflict harm upon another? Many would say 'never,' but for those of us who don’t live in pacifistic disillusion, I'd like to know. For example, how bad does a guy need to be until he warrants a Batman-style kick of justice to the face?
A peek into the requests and suggestions people make of beer, liquor, Friday night and their own drunken penises.
Hobo Man's feet leave the ground as he jumps and lands face-first on the hood of TheBlueDragon's car. Instinctively TheBlueDragon screeches to a halt, sending Hobo Man tumbling onto the pavement. Hobo Man squirms around and yells: 'Help! I’ve been hit by
Cold Beer in Cans is a posthumous collaboration between Alex Bash and Theodor Seuss Geisel, read to the tune of "Green Eggs and Ham." Critics are already calling it "an instant contemporary college classic."
Why did Van Gogh cut off his ear and commit suicide? Many foolishly believe it’s because of a broken friendship with Paul Gauguin--but this is a lie, a mere conspiracy passed down through the ages.
Let it be known that the Medulla Oblongata—not Lil Jon—was the first to skeet, skeet, skeet, mothafucka. Whether or not it has made all these bitches crawl is yet to be discovered
A leisurely afternoon hunt for eggs on a farm turns into a wild escape from a menacing ram involving dirt, blood and disgrace. This is the story of a field chase gone wrong.