Unfunny People, A tutorial in Funnyshit Just For You
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Category Archives: Funny Stuff
Instant Messenger Theatre: Episode 2
(11:40:26 PM) monkey: TWILIGHT NEW MOON IS OWN
(11:40:37 PM) monkey: we should drink a reckless amout of beer
(11:40:42 PM) monkey: -_-
(11:40:49 PM) TheAlmightyOne: Hahaha
(11:41:04 PM) TheAlmightyOne: New Moon is the one you can actually laugh at without commentary
(11:41:36 PM) TheAlmightyOne: It’s not “so bad I want to perforate my eardrums with a number 2 pencil” bad
(11:41:55 PM) TheAlmightyOne: It’s “so bad I’m on the floor laughing at how fucking stupid this is”
(11:41:58 PM) TheAlmightyOne: Bad
(11:43:25 PM) monkey: So this girl is like
(11:43:31 PM) monkey: supernatural platonic whore of the year
(11:43:38 PM) TheAlmightyOne: Hahaha, pretty much
(11:46:18 PM) TheAlmightyOne: How far into it?
(11:47:35 PM) monkey: She told the guy with long hair that he’s beautiful
(11:48:27 PM) TheAlmightyOne: Yeah, that doesn’t help
(11:48:44 PM) monkey: They just fixed two junker motorcycles
(11:48:50 PM) TheAlmightyOne: Ah, okay
(11:48:57 PM) TheAlmightyOne: You missed the most ridiculous part of the movie
(11:49:18 PM) TheAlmightyOne: Where he leaves her and she spends three months tranced out, miserable, doing nothing
(11:49:27 PM) TheAlmightyOne: And shrieks in agony during the middle of the night
(11:50:05 PM) TheAlmightyOne: And her dad just has this look on her face like “you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me”
(11:50:10 PM) monkey: yeah
(11:50:11 PM) TheAlmightyOne: his face*
(11:50:18 PM) monkey: ‘What have I done with my career?’
(11:50:27 PM) TheAlmightyOne: Hahaha
(11:50:58 PM) TheAlmightyOne: Honestly, I think if you put the focus in that story on the dad
(11:51:01 PM) TheAlmightyOne: You could save it
(11:51:32 PM) TheAlmightyOne: Make it a dark comedy
(11:51:37 PM) TheAlmightyOne: With the dad as the main character
(11:51:40 PM) monkey: rogl
(11:51:42 PM) monkey: rofl
(11:51:47 PM) monkey: My daughter the vamper whore
(11:51:57 PM) TheAlmightyOne: See?
(11:52:01 PM) TheAlmightyOne: Could totally be done.
(11:54:12 PM) TheAlmightyOne: And two things could really save it
(11:54:13 PM) TheAlmightyOne: That
(11:54:42 PM) TheAlmightyOne: And instead of it being a real romance, his “family” of vampire have evil eye’d Bella into being their blood doll
(11:55:27 PM) TheAlmightyOne: So her father and all the kids at school who inexplicably thought she was the coolest thing ever on her first day that she ignores
(11:55:43 PM) TheAlmightyOne: Have to save her from the vampires
(11:56:17 PM) TheAlmightyOne: BAM
(11:56:20 PM) TheAlmightyOne: Way better movie
(2/4/2011 12:22:26 AM) monkey: yeah
(12:22:26 AM) monkey: but then it wouldn’t be like
(12:22:26 AM) monkey: gay
(12:22:48 AM) monkey: it would be more like
(12:22:51 AM) monkey: a Lost Boys
(12:22:54 AM) monkey: kind of thing
(12:22:58 AM) monkey: action horror
(12:23:16 AM) monkey: Where would we get the gay?
(12:23:18 AM) monkey: ??
(12:23:20 AM) monkey: WHERE!@:?
(12:23:27 AM) TheAlmightyOne: lol
(12:24:13 AM) monkey: you don’t even know do you faggot?
(12:24:18 AM) monkey: OF COURSE NOT
(12:24:57 AM) TheAlmightyOne: I am a failure as a rewriter
(12:25:01 AM) TheAlmightyOne: Much shame unto me
(12:25:49 AM) monkey: How dare you try to rewrite that literary turned cinematic shitbox into something not cringe-worthy?
(12:28:56 AM) TheAlmightyOne: Fukkin saved
Dust Ruffles are Gay
Seriously. Totally Gay. If you own a dust ruffle, you’re either A) a woman, B) a flaming homosexual or C) a married man who has no input on the decoration of his home. Nobody else does. You know why? Because nobody else considers their bed to be a fashion accessory for their walls.
For those who don’t know, a dust ruffle is a piece of cloth that’s put over the box spring of a bed for the purpose of keeping dust from getting under the bed. Dust? Dust?! Under the bed?!
…My God.
You mean that place where you store luggage and kick your boots at the end of the day? And there’s dust getting in there?! That’s horrible! Frank-fucking-forbid that I have to wipe a little dust off of my Samsonite a couple times a year. My shoes certainly aren’t collecting any that I have to worry about.
Dust ruffles are for people with OCD and nit-picky housewives who can’t feel at home without at least one object with frills on it per room.
A Cry for Help.
http://www.realguns.com/articles/275.htm
Yeah, pretty cool even for non-gun nuts.
I just don’t have any clue how the hell this would feed reliably. It looks like a jam-happy mess. However, my mechanical knowledge of firearms is that of a novice; maybe a little better, but I’m by no means an expert.
So, if anybody who knows their stuff about firearms reads this, I’d love to hear from you.
Women are Not Allowed to Read this Post.
You know, after the Valentine’s Day rant, I’ve been thinking about some of the things I’ve said and I’ve come to a conclusion.
Women are responsible for all of men’s problems.
Yeah, that’s right, I said it. It’s all your fault, ladies. Valentine’s Day, birthdays, anniversaries, “I’m-sorry-I-looked-at-the-waitress’-ass” gifts, plus all the other holidays. Also, we’re expected to pay for everything(dinner, drinks, etc.). If you’re so equal and independent, why can’t you pitch in your fair share?
How about marriage?! Well, first there’s the engagement ring(By the way, that three month’s salary rule? That was started early last century by a major diamond company’s marketing department(and you bitches ate that shit up). Where’s my engagement gift worth three months of your pay, bitch? Then there’s the cost of the wedding, too. The bride’s parents only float the cost seventeen percent of the time today, so that means it’s on someone else. That’s right. Men. Why? Because we make all the money and we’re expected to be gentlemen and pay for everything. Fuck that shit, I already spent several thousand dollars on a piece of jewelry(but no, you need your special day with the expensive ass dress and the catering and the perfect place with the perfect reception hall and the perfect photographer and the-OH MY GOD!) Now there’s the goddamn honeymoon(and just fucking shoot me now) which, you guessed it, bub, the husband is paying for. Oh, you thought you’d just move her into your place? You silly bastard! Don’t you know that you can’t rent anymore once you get married?! You have to go buy a house and you’ll have to look at house after house after house to make sure that she likes the kitchen and the yard and the neighborhood(three words, sucker: Home Owner’s Association) and it’s in the right zip code for the good school or whatever. Next comes the years of paying for her old bills and her fancy new car and her Starbucks jones and her beauty parlor expenses and her credit card habits and her blah blah blah blah blah…
And then there’s all the whining, nagging, PMS, remodel demands, “I’m-not-in-the-mood” nights, your expertise at chicanery and deceit, and worst of all, making us be fathers to kids we don’t fucking want because you “forgot” to take your birth control pill and “forgot” to go get the morning after pill and “suddenly” decided to be against abortion “now that’s it’s my baby”(scratch that, worst of all being whoring around with other guys because you want a kid and can’t get us in a situation where we knock you up and then tell us it’s fucking our’s because we’re the stable option).
So the key is to not have any money, right? Negative. Then they’ll all shun you and refuse to put out because they’re competing with their friends(I’ve fucking seen it, wenches!) over who can get the best husband(read ‘one with the most money’).
Gentlemen, this is why we need to legalize prostitution.