Rolls Royce IUDs, orgy lube droughts, Super-DUPER-Dracula, and nom-nom-ing Las Vegas: today's TERRIBLE advice
FB’s “TERRIBLE advice” group births GLORIOUS creative chaos. It’s funky. It’s fab. It ups life’s Good Bits. Do try some:
Marlowe asks
our landlord, who charges us $1,900 usd for rent every month, does not include electric gas or internet, has just let us know that she’s three months behind on the mortgage.
what fucking do? 😃
My answer
Girl! You’ve struck gold! This is the opportunity of a lifetime!
Your landlady has let slip all. She is merely the first wobbly and explodable psyche in a sequence of emotional landmines, all teetering like dominoes. They terminate in a massive pile of bankable moola. Topple the lot and you’ll be loaded for life. I’ll step you through how.
Your landlady has already shown herself oafish enough not merely to blow YOUR goddamn rent on expenses unrelated to your chateau’s mortgage, but then also actually confess this to you. And most landlords and/or landladies own quite a few properties, not just yours. She’s likely neglected quite a few mortgages. Gnarly.
She’s a dingbat. She’s a numpty. And, best of all, turns out she’s undergoing a heinous attack of conscience-itis.
That is your psychological attack vector.
It’s time for you to assume several rad disguises and/or personas, the better to overwhelm the Dominoes. You’ll need to either do stupendously amazing impressions of, or abduct, the following people:
The mightiest and stroppiest Mafia enforcer in all Las Vegas
Rain Man, or Stephen Hawking, or Rachel Riley, or someone else with an insane talent for math-numbers and/or finances
Also that dude from Wolf Of Wall Street. You know. The finance con dude. The original. Not DiCaprio himself, although on reflection if you’re able to kidnap him too, then why not? He's likely a hoot in the sack.
I have no idea what social circles your kind schmooze through, so hey, if you can indeed pull off a succession of high-profile kidnappings, then bully for you, but failing that, you’ll probably mimic the above archetypes well enough if you just get unbelievably stoned and start blathering your finest racist accents. Give ‘em the ol’ college try, baby.
Awesome, done. Now approach your landlady, brandishing your personas and/or victims. Your goal is to compel Ms. Landlady's cooperation in jointly overpowering her own bank manager. Kick off with your ginormous hulking Vegas Mafia enforcer. Ms. Landlady is stressing about the dire state of her mortgage payments, right? Sir Enforcer shall ID the most mortgaged-out structure in all Las Vegas. He shall physically and single-handedly drag the structure itself, its owner, its property deed, and its mortgage paperwork, down her street and in front of her home. You and he will knock smartly on her front door. On her appearance, both you and Sir Enforcer shall lock eyes with her, waggle both property and mortgage paperwork before her, then Sir Enforcer shall hurl the structure’s owner through the structure at hypersonic velocity, annihilating both.
Finally, apply Meaningful Looks unto your landlady’s own house and tut-tut like a cranky lesbian great-aunt scorning an orgy's lube drought. She’ll get the message.
Rad. You’ve established your corrupt creds as Mortgage Pulveriser Supreme. Next, volun-tell Ms. Landlady that you and she are about to pay a little visit to her bank. Whilst en route, your other kidnapped comrades spring into action. Ms. Landlady has kindly donated her title holdings and mortgage deets: they’ll paw through and deduce how best to vastly inflate the holdings’ combined value, such that if they Underwent Something Horrible, HINT HINT, the resulting financial shockwave would pulverise the entire bank and its staff, unto the seventh generation of whatever the hell kind of hellspawn bankers spawn. I’ve never cared to enquire, honestly. It sure ain’t folk.
So, hell, why not concoct a genealogy millennium for Ms. Landlady? Lordships, duchies, empires, Imperial plunder, grand estates and fabulously lucrative corruption? A Lady of means and substance and sumptuous wealth? She’ll likely nom-nom-nom that crap up in a heartbeat. On reflection, you probably could have just proposed that anyway without going to all this bullshit of kidnapping half the world’s celebrities and/or bludgeoning most of Las Vegas. Don’t you just feel like a numpty now?
Too late now, suckah. You’re committed. You’re already outside the bank manager’s office. Barge right in, therefore, and inform the gent that Comrade Ms. Landlady here, the gal he’d always dismissed as his scruffiest and whiniest client, is in fact the Zeroth Lady Super-DUPER-Dracula Of All Turkic Peeps And Phat Bass (Fish Not Music You Philistine), or whatever other horseshit-Aristo-title that in your considered opinion may overawe the fellow the most magnificently. I mean come on. He’s a bank manager. Bank managers are the most middle-class Thing there is. He'll be a desperate and greasy social climber. They always are. I bet he’d roll over for a giggly tummy-tickle if you waggled aloft a mere Rolls-Royce-themed IUD like horrible mistletoe. Go on. Ask me how I know that.
But present the flustered chap with apparently the most loaded and landed Lady in Europe? He’ll burst like an even more orgasmic heap of Agent Smiths in The Matrix Reloaded.
Awesome. You’ve overpowered and subsumed Mr. Manager too, and gained full control over the bank’s finances. I reckon you’ve won. Time for a spot of Traditional relaxation and merriment. Summon Ms. Landlady and Mr. Manager and all the other people you’d kidnapped in recent weeks, all in the same place. And do their dads.
Original: https://mikeyclarke.co.nz/blog/2026/5/rolls-royce-iuds-orgy-lube-droughts-super-duper-dracula-and-nom-nom-ing-las-vegas-todays-terrible-advice
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Bullshit Hors D’oeuvres: TERRIBLE ADVICE posts
Enjoy this snazzy sampling of hintCLICKABLEhint crowd-pleasers:
On your cherished pet bunnies judging you a stinkin' softcock, and on thwarting their hideous psychological Thunderdomes: today's TERRIBLE advice
“Your commitment to the premise is what sells it. By the time you got to the rabbits studying every personality quirk and cognitive weakness, I was invested. 😂 Keep doing ya thing, you've definitely got your own voice.”
You'll have the spangliest vulva in Christendom: today's TERRIBLE advice
“Wow this is different from what I usually read, but this is great!”
On scheming bitches, Antarctic science side quests, extra-gorgeous ponies, and the Zodiac Killer: today's TERRIBLE advice
“Your titles are next level and always make me smile.”
Bullshit Banquet: the SEXYVERSE NOVELS
*ahem*
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]
Click these and enjoy these and your appetites will be SATISFIED.
Bullshit Emeritus: 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. You put yummy in my tummy, you know that?
As a perimenopausal woman, I must protest the fact that I laughed so hard at this -- tut-tut like a cranky lesbian great-aunt scorning an orgy’s lube drought -- that I almost peed myself.