On outshining the entire human race a hundredfold, pulverising the world's bra industry, lactating helium, 24/7/2 handstands, and frostbitey fashion perfection: today's TERRIBLE advice
FB’s “TERRIBLE advice” group nourishes GLORIOUS creative chaos. It’s funky. It’s fab. It ups life’s Good Bits. Do try some:
Catherine asks
Can’t find a bra. What should I use instead?
Don’t say go braless; that’s great advice.
My answer
The whole point of bras is to counteract long-term boob-sagging, isn’t it? At least one of the goals? (Yes, loads of others, keeping them from swinging miles each step and taking neighbours’ eyes out, etc). But one thing at a time yo. So why not do handstands everywhere? Spend exactly half of your waking hours wobbling everywhere on your hands, upside-down, and the other half walking regularly. That way you’ll cancel everything out.
Some folk deem hours of handstands exasperating and impracticable. If that’s you, then here’s a variant: you know that handheld puzzle-game Tilt Maze? Or Labyrinth? It’s a square maze containing a marble or a ball-bearing, and you physically tilt and slope the maze to roll its ball around, traverse its internal paths, and avoid the inevitable ball traps. It requires much delicate finesse, and keeping the maze surface as horizontal as possible.
So do the same with your nipples. Continually angle and pivot your torso and ribcage such that your boobs remain exactly above and vertical, and your nipples point skyward. Now, most shrewd and seasoned breast-owners will retort that ladies ain’t Lego. They lack incredibly flat and cuboid torsos. Those ladies sporting more conventional rounded ribcages may achieve the above with just one boob or just the other, but surely not both.
Excellent point, says I, so you’ll need to adjust your local gravity gradients such that both boobs’ Down-directions point to the centre of your chest, and perhaps intersect at your heart or oesophagus. Ever considered deep-throating a black hole? That’d provide the requisite gravity wonderfully. A bit of physics-ing informs me that producing gravity of 1g from, let’s say, a 5cm distance, requires a black hole mass of 3.67x108 kg, or 367,000 tons, so dieters beware. It’d also produce Hawking radiation of 2.64 petawatts, or 100 times the energy consumption of the entire human race, so you’ll get a bit toasty.
If literally outshining the entire human race doesn’t tickle your fancy, then you could always suspend yourself above a huge vat of liquid nitrogen, Mission-Impossible-style, and dip in only your boobs. They’ll freeze solid and stay in place as long as you like, with zero flop or sag. Yes you’ll have horrific frostbite forever, but all fashion is at least slightly agonising, right? Isn’t that the whole point of fashion? If you’re in unbearable agony, then that’s how you know your fashion choices are a smash hit.
If none of these appeal to you? Well, Ms. Prissy Fussyboots, then simply unleash a hideous psyops campaign against all midwives, new mothers, and other proponents of breastfeeding: you know what’s even more nourishing for your protobeloved than breast milk? Helium, that’s what! Babies adore it. They can’t get enough. Nothing promotes strong healthy tot-growth like ambrosia-plasma of the stars, yumyumyum. Hilarious squeaky baby-laughter is just a gnarly bonus. Persuade all ladies of fashion, substance and elegance that getting boob jobs that let you lactate helium is the hottest new smash hit from the catwalks of Milan. Then everyone’s lighter-than-air boobs will levitate and bob about on their own, and you’ll preside over the pulverised corpse of the global bra industry. Problem solved.
Original: https://mikeyclarke.co.nz/blog/2022/7/on-pulverising-the-worlds-bra-industry-via-lactating-helium-24-7-2-handstands-and-frostbitey-fashion-perfection-todays-terrible-advice
YOUR TURN
Fancy some boutique TERRIBLE advice of your own? Comment your question or dilemma, and I’ll magic up something deliciously wicked to put a smile on your face, just for you.
Further Reading: The SEXYVERSE NOVELS
IN A WORLD where wars are fought with romance and flirting and delicious erotic TENSION, the rivalries throbbing between history’s Great Powers have become a BUTTLOAD more bubbly, with fewer hideous massacres of musket and cannon, and OODLES more frisky cunnilingus contests:
The Sex Commandos Thwart The Third Vaginal Apocalypse
Part One: The Knights Of Raw Phwoar
Might Earth's free nations drown under terrifying tornadoes of French femme-foam? Like hell, shout Britain's Royal Marines Sex Commandos. Let's assassinate France's Imperatrix Brigitte Bardot! Come on. What's the worst that could happen?
Part Two: The Soviet Sluts Superb
Turns out out-flirting Imperatrix Bardot is like trying to wank off Mt. Blanc when it's wanking you back. Plan B: skedaddle, regroup, out-flirt the entirety of France and get loads more practice, then it's stealthy-sneaky Round Two or bust.
Part Three: The Cervical Supremacy
Turns out flirting with every ladybro Rambo in France produces Rivals and Frenemies and Jilted Waifus galore. Smashing fun, but utter Kryptonite for Imperial kill-plans. Like, ever tried noshing off a world leader whilst a billion fanb0is fondle your buttocks? Want to? Read on!
Part Four: The Praetorian Prostitutes
The game's up! The irresistible force of fanb0i-fondlemania has headbutted the immovable object of a gazillion furious Paris cops. They too thirst for Sex Commando patoot. Crunch time. Either launch one final rocket-strike against Bardot and France, or Earth's free nations forever perish.
Part Five: [soon, baby]
Crave more bullshit laughs? Click these and enjoy these and your appetites will be SATISFIED. And it’ll make me incredibly happy. You put yummy in my tummy, you know that?
THIS WAS SOO COOL TO READ
hahaha thanks for the laugh late at night. Poke the neighbors eye out