I Rate That: StumbleUpon

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Oh mate, StumleUpon is the procrastinator’s wet dream. If you are a huge fan of doing fuck all for hours on end, you might as well make this website your homepage right now: StumbleUpon. I can’t be bothered to explain in detail all it’s attributes and functions; thats why God gave you eyes and the potential to read.

Basically, it’s like the lucky-dip of the internet. You can discover some freaking marvels, such as this thing I found yesterday. And depending on which topics you’ve added as an “interest,” it may send you to somewhere like this… (I am still having nightmares.) Once you get hooked on this shit, you will cease all productivity and become a slave to the internet. I would give yourself a good 12 hours of free-time. If you have a lot of responsibilities like “schoolwork” or “childcare,” don’t you worry, you’ll soon forget all about that shite when you start sifting through the randomness of the interwebs.

And I’d feel selfish finding these gems without sharing the wealth and providing you with a piece of the pudding. So I thought that if I found anything worth sharing it’s going straight on the blog. It seems like a waste having the ability to blog and possess a voice without actually using it for the entertainment and annoyance of others.

However, before using StumbleUpon I would strongly suggest investing into antivirus software just in case some bellend stumbleupon user chose to ‘thumb up’ a website infested with malware and other internet-naughties. And unfortunately, out of all the plethora of ‘interests’ you can choose from, you cannot roulette ‘Hardcore Pornography’ at the click of a button. You’ll have to get that the old fashioned way; with one hand down your boxers and the other frantically searching for your obscure dominatrix fetish in an incognito window, whilst accidentally smearing vaseline all over your keyboard. You sick fuck.

So yeah. StumbleUpon. Get it.

I rate that 12.4/14.1 in procrastination points. Happy Clicking.

 

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32 Game-Changing Quotes About Love And Life That Will Make You Feel Better, Instantly

Thought Catalog

ScribeScribe


I don’t care about whose DNA has recombined with whose. When everything goes to hell, the people who stand by you without flinching they are your family.

Jim Butcher


Please know that there are much better things in life than being lonely or liked or bitter or mean or self conscious. We are all full of shit. Go love someone just because, I know your heart may be badly bruised, or even the victim of numerous knifings but it will always heal even if you don’t want it to, it keeps going. There are the most fantastic, beautiful things and people out there, I promise. It’s up to you to find them.

Chuck Palahniuk


Don’t ever mistake my silence for ignorance, my calmness for acceptance, or my kindness for weakness.

Anonymous


People don’t like love, they like that flittery flirty feeling. They don’t love love – love is sacrificial…

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45 People On The Freakiest Thing They’ve Seen That No One Believes Them About

Well, this fucking scared me.

Thought Catalog

Ashtyn ReneeAshtyn Renee

Found on AskReddit.

1. spish

Another car with the same license plate as mine.

2. Donmartini

I used to take a shortcut through a field to get to work (I live in Ireland) anyway lying in the middle of this field was a dead penguin.

3. Rule7

Went to a movie and the projector broke. Me and my friends left and I had a flash of a car accident in my brain. I told them jokingly. 10 minutes later we were T-boned by a drunk driver. Still barely believe it myself. But it is true.

4. motaib

I’ve never been much for sports but one day in Middle School I was leaving the gym from P.E, everyone else was already out in the hallway. I’m about 3/4s of the way down one end of the basketball court when I absentmindedly toss a basketball over my head towards…

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Fastfood Rant

Standing at the till in your local Fastfood establishment, you may be completely unaware of the frantic jostlings and general happenings on the opposite side of the counter where the poor creatures toiling in the kitchen have to face the sneering up-turned noses of the fuckwit hoards that grace the building everyday from open to close. In my experience, having worked in a McDonalds for 7 (long) months, most of the workers are pleasant, fun, intelligent and enjoy what they do. It just so happens that customers are arseholes. As the most minuscule part of their day, a fastfood worker is below human; they’re unhuman.

Respect and courtesy are kicked to the side. From what I have observed, two thoughts must occur in the customer’s brain 1. The unhuman is working in a fastfood restaurant, they must be a fucking moron. And 2. They work in a fastfood restaurant, they are beneath me. As one female customer eloquently put it, “Them in the kitchen.. Are they foreign or just retarded?” Unfortunately, they had put onions in a burger when she had requested no onions. The only conclusion we can make of this is that she must be incredibly important and that we are simpletons who made the mistake of existing.

And whilst it is ‘unskilled’ labour, people seem to ignore that the employees are often just trying to earn money on the side while a midst their studies. But don the ludicrous uniform and pin a nametag on the chest, you become a nobody. I think it says more about your intelligence if you assume that the person providing you a service is fucking brain-dead. However, I have experienced more than just my intellect thrown into question by some lard-sagging shitnut.

This complete bitch thought my unhumanity stretched to personal hygiene. She waddles in, barely collapses as she wheezes in front of my till. “Hi there, can I help?” I offer cordially, because I am polite as fuck. “Yeah. Chocolate Milkshake.” As a machine that will be used a thousand times a day The McMilkshaker is a temperamental beast and will often spit small amounts of shake before becoming the fountain of thick brown gunge that we all know and love.

On this particular occasion a small speck hit the side of the cup and dribbled onto my thumb nail. I pass her the cocoa-slime with a smile and await the confirmatory grunt that signals the end of transaction. Instead, she spots the gloop on my thumb and her face contorts into a disgusted grimace. The sweaty gargoyle asks “Do you even wash your hands?” I reply with a monotone “Yes, it’s just from the milkshake I made a second ago.” Looking unsatisfied, she murmurs “That’s disgusting…” and jiggles off somewhere to gorge.

I stand slack-jawed with my mouth slightly ajar. My mind hazed at that point… If the chubslut thinks a small drip from the shake machine is bad I don’t think she would be able to comprehend the scum that resides on the faces of an average coin, not to mention the coins that come into contact with some of the ogres that frequent the restaurant. And if she just imagined how many hundreds of coins I had to handle everyday from grubby, clammy hands that had probably never seen soap. And then imagine me fingering and grabbing the food that will soon travel into her body, having just touched a (both metaphorical and literal) shit-covered coin or note.

In the moments that followed the transaction I was praying that I had touched something diseased and contagious. The jokes on her; I would be washing my hands in the next 5 minutes, whereas the she-beast would be slurping up cock and vag germs that had rubbed off onto my hands and then onto her drink. But alas, she would be fine. And no doubt she would act with same fuckery as she undoubtedly does with every worker she sees herself above. Fuck me, I’m glad I escaped.

Thanks for reading, I rate this blog 6.3/10.01 on the Simmonds Blog Scale. Too preachy and self-righteous.

Enjoy your meal.

I Rate That: Captain Phillips.

I don’t think this is getting the credit it deserves. I attempt to dazzle you cretins with my witticisms and sharp observations and it goes unnoticed. What is a semi-unemployed writer to do?

Simmonds Procrastinates

Hanks shirtless and sporting a beard as Captain Phillips Hanks shirtless and sporting a beard as Captain Phillips

Yes, I recently watched the latest, and most unexpected, installment of The Pirates of The Caribbean Sega. It is a modern day re-imagining of the Disney classic that follows a hilariously curmudgeon Sea-captain on his voyage in search of the legendary ‘Horn of Africa,’ which once played, will grant the musician a shit-ton of cash. Innovative and fresh, the new timeframe in which the film is set (2009) may indicate that the golden age of piracy has finally rusted and that these slapstick tales of pirate-pillaging need a newer domain. In a sense, it is comparable to the Call of Duty franchise; Modern Warfare was introduced because history gets boring after a while.

Unfortunately for some, it does seem as though Peter Greengrocer has put the final nail into Captain Jack Sparrow’s coffin by replacing him with the more mature Captain…

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BIC 1 Sensitive: I rate that.

Say ‘bon voyage’ to that facebush with the streamlined BIC 1 Sensitive army-issue shaving utensil. This solid polyethylene badboy does not fuck about. Its handheld, manual-action interface implements a minimalist structure and single laser-precise blade which makes short work of that persistent upper-lip peachfuzz; imagine an AK-47 combined with a Samurai sword. This multi-use machine is ideal for lips, nips and dicks and escorts unwanted body-hair off of the premises. Deadly yet sensitive, it gently kisses your skin with the ferocity of a Bengal tiger and looks good while doing it. The chic design introduces orange to white; really breaking the mold for razor kind everywhere; it says “I have stubble, and I want it gone. capisce?”

There she is sport fans, there she is.

There she is sport fans, there she is.

Portable and easy-to-use, it looks good in a hand-bag, in a pocket, even holstered next your side iron. I thought I’d take the engineering prowess of the BIC 1 out for a face-based testdrive.

Bracing for impact.

Bracing for impact.

Face lathered, ready for anything. I place the saber onto my cheek and wait for that sweet kiss from Ms Metal.

The aftermath

The aftermath

Cleanest shave I’ve ever had. Without doubt. Hardly any bloodloss and the blade is ready for more. Slap on a bit of aftershave and think of England. Wash the hair off and pop the razor in the fridge . The battle’s not over, the hair’ll be back with a vengeance. I just pray that the majesty of the BIC Beauty will tough-out my chin-mane.

Thanks for reading. I give the BIC 1 Sensitive 14.74/16 on the ‘Simmonds shave scale’. Happy Hair-removing.