Zaint Zattex is the Trianglist Ramadan that lasts from today until 12am April 21st. It is considered a holy month where most of the drug usage is done during the year to prepare for the summer.
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Originally posted by -SpectraL
You guys think you're scary? I've went up against mega-trolls and tyrants the likes of acidmelt, zok, wires, Snoopy, Metaphysicist…. the list goes on and on… and I'm still here to tell the tale. And you kids think you frighten me? Don't make me laugh.
The rest of them moved on with life.
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Originally posted by Malice
Imagine showing up to the first day of the fall semester in a Japanese schoolgirl uniform and wig running through crowded areas while holding a piece of toast near your mouth and repeatedly saying, "I'm going to be late! I'm going to be late!"
Pretty tempting. Only question is who to cosplay as. You should definitely have a beard for this.
Shut the fuck up.
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The pet store was selling them for 5¢ a piece. I thought that odd since they were normally a couple thousand each. I decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth. I bought 200. I like niggers.
I took my 200 niggers home. I have a big car. I let one drive. His name was Sigmund. He was retarded. In fact, none of them were really bright. They kept punching themselves in their genitals. I laughed. Then they punched my genitals. I stopped laughing.
I herded them into my room. They didn't adapt very well to their new environment. They would screech, hurl themselves off of the couch at high speeds and slam into the wall. Although humorous at first, the spectacle lost its novelty halfway into its third hour.
Two hours later I found out why all the niggers were so inexpensive: they all died. No apparent reason. They all just sorta' dropped dead. Kinda' like when you buy a goldfish and it dies five hours later. Damn cheap niggers.
I didn't know what to do. There were 200 dead niggers lying all over my room, on the bed, in the dresser, hanging from my bookcase. It looked like I had 200 throw rugs.
I tried to flush one down the toilet. It didn't work. It got stuck. Then I had one dead, wet nigger and 199 dead, dry niggers.
I tried pretending that they were just stuffed animals. That worked for a while, that is until they began to decompose. It started to smell real bad.
I had to pee but there was a dead nigger in the toilet and I didn't want to call the plumber. I was embarrassed.
I tried to slow down the decomposition by freezing them. Unfortunately there was only enough room for two niggers at a time so I had to change them every 30 seconds. I also had to eat all the food in the freezer so it didn't all go bad.
I tried burning them. Little did I know my bed was flammable. I had to extinguish the fire.
Then I had one dead, wet nigger in my toilet, two dead, frozen niggers in my freezer, and 197 dead, charred niggers in a pile on my bed. The odor wasn't improving.
I became agitated at my inability to dispose of my niggers and to use the bathroom. I severely beat one of my niggers. I felt better.
I tried throwing them way but the garbage man said that the city wasn't allowed to dispose of charred primates. I told him that I had a wet one. He couldn't take that one either. I didn't bother asking about the frozen ones.
I finally arrived at a solution. I gave them out as Christmas gifts. My friends didn't know quite what to say. They pretended that they like them but I could tell they were lying. Ingrates. So I punched them in the genitals.
I like niggers.
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By age 18, I was drinking alcohol socially and smoking pot often, while working diligently at my part-time job. I suspected I was prone to addiction, since it ran in my family, so I actively avoided what I considered more serious drugs.
All seems good right?.
But when I was 19 last summer, I was smoking pot with an acquaintance at his house and got a strange high. Later, I googled the symptoms that surprised me the most — numb lips and feeling like I was on top of the world. I'd long been a religious Christian; the high made me feel particularly close to God.
I think the pot I'd smoked had been laced with either cocaine or meth, both of which are stimulants. I was surprised, since I’d never perceived weed as a gateway drug, but here I was, being exposed to substances I never wanted in my life.
Because I'd gotten the pot from the friend I smoked with, I felt like he'd betrayed me and left my job to distance myself from him. I didn't end up going back to school
What the fuck. She thought her weed could be laced with coke or meth (impossible) so she quits her job and school to get away from the people giving her laced drugs. Okay that's pretty fucking retarded it wasn't even laced???
finally got a new job, but having lost my boyfriend and a series of close friends, I was lonely and unhappy. I remembered the way I felt on the laced weed and sought that kind of peace again.
At the end of August, with another acquaintance, I decided to smoke meth for the first time.
Why didn't she just smoke weed lol? Okay so she starts smoking meth because she thought her weed was laced with meth before and wants to feel good. That's a pretty stupid reason but okay.
On the morning of Tuesday, February 6, I was still high. I was hallucinating, so my memories are fuzzy, but based on what I remember and details I've pieced together from other witnesses, here's what happened: Thinking the friend I'd gotten high with had gone to church, I wandered there along a railroad track. Even though it was 10:30 in the morning, everything looked dark and gloomy apart from a light post, where I thought a white bird was perched.
It was then I remember thinking that someone had to sacrifice something important to right the world, and that person was me. I thought everything would end abruptly, and everyone would die, if I didn't tear out my eyes immediately. I don't know how I came to that conclusion, but I felt it was, without doubt, the right, rational thing to do immediately.
I got on my hands and knees, pounding the ground and praying, "Why me? Why do I have to do this?" I later realized this wasn't a personal religious calling — it was something anyone on drugs could have experienced.
Next, a man I'd been staying with, who happened to have a Biblical name, drove by and called out the window, "I locked up the house. Do you have the other key?" A sign, I thought, that my sacrifice is the key to saving the world.
So I pushed my thumb, pointer, and middle finger into each eye. I gripped each eyeball, twisted, and pulled until each eye popped out of the socket — it felt like a massive struggle, the hardest thing I ever had to do. Because I could no longer see, I don't know if there was blood. But I know the drugs numbed the pain. I'm pretty sure I would have tried to claw right into my brain if a pastor hadn't heard me screaming, "I want to see the light!" — which I don't recall saying — and restrained me. He later said, when he found me, that I was holding my eyeballs in my hands. I had squished them, although they were somehow still attached to my head.
And there you have it. The woman who ripped out her own eyeballs because she thought she smoked weed laced with meth once so she gave up on life and decided to smoke meth and got way too fucked up for her own good because she's retarded.
I wish I could feel bad for her, I really do but holy fuck how stupid can you be. If she didn't have such a stigma about "evil drugs" and everything being laced she would have never quit her job or done meth in the first place?? She could have just smoked weed and been fine.
Why did she have to smoke meth? I feel like she's making up the laced weed thing to not want to admit to being a psycho meth whore.
The following users say it would be alright if the author of this
post didn't die in a fire!
The following users say it would be alright if the author of this post didn't die in a fire!
The following users say it would be alright if the author of this post didn't die in a fire!
