2017-08-12 at 6:54 AM UTC
in
Don't Fuck With mQ
Grimace
motherfucker
[my enumerable hindi guideword]
I don't even know when to know when you're telling the truth and when you have lied. I know you haven't already told the truth, because I'd have my repayment by now. You're just fucking lying again. I doubt you even sent it off. If I ever see that $60 I loaned you, it will be a goddamn miracle.
2017-08-12 at 6:10 AM UTC
in
Don't Fuck With mQ
Grimace
motherfucker
[my enumerable hindi guideword]
In fact, for two of those weeks, he straight up lied to me and told me it was sent. This, later to be found, was a lie.
2017-08-12 at 6:09 AM UTC
in
Don't Fuck With mQ
Grimace
motherfucker
[my enumerable hindi guideword]
In fact, for two of those weeks, he straight up lied to me and told me it was sent.
2017-08-12 at 6:08 AM UTC
in
Don't Fuck With mQ
Grimace
motherfucker
[my enumerable hindi guideword]
I think he genuinely has no idea what owing money is actually like. He thinks it's like borrowing a bit from friends and paying back whenever he feels like it.
2017-08-12 at 6:06 AM UTC
in
Don't Fuck With mQ
Grimace
motherfucker
[my enumerable hindi guideword]
I loaned him $60 with the agreement that he would pay it back the following week. The following week became the next, and the next, and the next, and now it is the next. Every step of the way, he ensures me he is there for me, yet, I am a month out of funds when it was supposed to be a week, and he acts like it's "all cool, man"
2017-08-12 at 5:19 AM UTC
in
Don't Fuck With mQ
Grimace
motherfucker
[my enumerable hindi guideword]
I am not going to go into details, but he didn't pay back on the agreed time he said, lied to me for 2 weeks straight, and then tried to make it right just now. It's not ok. No one fuck with mQ. He is a liar.
2017-08-02 at 10:59 AM UTC
in
Pizza and Root Beer
Grimace
motherfucker
[my enumerable hindi guideword]
EDIT: Timeless classic.
Post last edited by Grimace at 2017-08-02T11:06:44.731505+00:00
2017-08-02 at 10:44 AM UTC
in
What to do with broken PS2
Grimace
motherfucker
[my enumerable hindi guideword]
Repair it. Is this for a "fat" or "slimline" PS2? What model specifically is it? Have you already tried changing power supply adapters? Do you have a mutimeter? If so, do you know how to use it?
Check for DCV and A of the power supply adapter, we can start there. Once we've established that the power supply adapter is in working order, we can move forward. You'll need to open the PS2 up again and remove the power supply board and then we will be testing components on the board for failure and then replacement or, if you'd rather not go through the trial and error, you could simply replace the power supply board if we determine that's the problem.
ARE YOU READY?
Grimace
motherfucker
[my enumerable hindi guideword]
I was sitting on the couch with my head tilted back and mouth agape, staring directly at the ceiling. I felt like I had been there for hours that way. I was studying the designs in the ceiling and wishing that I could incorporate myself into them and become a part of them when I heard a blood curdling scream from next door. I leaped off of the couch and without even really thinking about what I was doing, I ran outside and tore through the thorn bushes that separate my house and my neighbor's house. I planted them there a few years back because his cats and kids and shit kept ending up on my yard so I planted some thorn bushes to deter them from entering. In my wild hysteria to find out what was the source of this scream, I tore through them and severely lacerated my entire body. I came out on the other side and was bleeding from head to toe, but I couldn't be bothered with that. I snuck up to the window and peeked inside.
Inside the dust-laden house that had no lights on, I saw my neighbor on top of his son on the floor. He was using the weight of his body to pin him to the floor and a massive meat cleaver to hack off his limbs by the joint, one at a time. Apparently, the scream had come from hacking off his son's left hand. He had his arms raised, meat cleaver in hand, with a impish grin scrawled across his face, as he brought it down hard on his son's elbow joint, severing it. His son wriggled in pain and screamed in agony. I stood there in pure amazement at what I was watching. A single drop of piss escaped my dick.
I reached down and jerked my dick out of my pants, snatching out a handful of pubic hair in the process by accident. I began to stroke. I watched as the man hacked off limbs, joint-by-joint, and I stroked. Harder and harder, faster and faster! My body began to convulse. My head titled back and my eyes rolled back in my head as I pumped harder, timing my rhythm ever-so-carefully to achieve my purest form, when a single whimper escaped my lips. My neighbor, having already butchered his son to little more than a torso must have heard me, because his gaze snapped to the window and our eyes met just as I was jizzing all over his vinyl siding. I was scared. I didn't want to be butchered, but I was jizzing and I couldn't stop, Lucy. I couldn't stop..
I violently pumped and shook my dick, squirting out the spraying jizz all over the man's vinyl siding as he got up to run towards his door to come outside. I was quicker than that though, I tore back through the thorn bushes, dick flailing and all where it was severed almost completely off by the large barbs of the thorn bushes. I made it back inside my place and BOLTED THE DOOR SHUT to my fucking CHAMBERS. Here I am now, where I dwell now and forever and ever. Amen.
Grimace
motherfucker
[my enumerable hindi guideword]
Is that what you're trying to do?
2017-07-28 at 10:29 AM UTC
in
Bruise stimulation
Grimace
motherfucker
[my enumerable hindi guideword]
Smash all ten fingers and toes in a car door simultaneously. After you have done this, you can begin to stimulate your bruises by rapidly pounding away on your smartphone screen and keyboard while twiddling your toes in blissful ignorance that you have, in fact, almost severed all ten fingers and toes in the car door slam and they are dangling and flailing about your digits, only being held on by a thin piece of skin that stretches more and more with every wild keyboard stroke. STROKE. IT'S ALL ABOUT THE STROKES, MAAAAAAAAAAAAN.
Hey.
