On the intermediate anus of daring and vigorous ambition: 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:
Elizabeth asks
I’m getting major surgery on my throat on Monday. I want to spend my last day eating whatever I want because I won’t be eating much for a few weeks..
What shall I eat???
My answer
There was that story a few years back of an alcoholic bloke who decided it'd be a fab idea to imbibe an entire bottle of whiskey via enema.
The thing about normal drinking is that if/when you get blackout drunk, you can't keep drinking, so you pass out and your blood alcohol level starts dropping (unless you're Craig Ferguson, who in the '80s became a cokehead not because cocaine itself was awesome, but because when he got blackout drunk it kept him conscious and he could get even drunker).
The thing about alcoholic enemas is that if you get blackout drunk, you don't then immediately shit out the booze. It stays in your bowel and you continue to absorb it. This bloke did this. He died.
Maybe you could follow his fine example. But instead of booze, cultivate your ability to absorb the very finest haute cuisine anally, starting with liquid-y, absorbable soups and stews suitable for novice anuses, moving up through penisey grub like sausages and filled rolls and Subway sandwiches and appropriate challenges for the intermediate asshole of daring and vigorous ambition, culminating with whole roast chickens and livestock and other Everests of the truly superb patoot.
Maybe that's what Richard Gere was (allegedly) doing with those (alleged) gerbils: he'd had throat surgery too, but wasn't going to stop a pesky little thing like inoperative throat stop him from deepthroating his beloved rodents.
Original: https://mikeyclarke.co.nz/blog/2021/11/on-the-intermediate-anus-of-daring-and-vigorous-ambition-todays-terrible-advice
Hungry for more?
Bullshit Hors D’oeuvres: TERRIBLE ADVICE posts
Enjoy this snazzy sampling of hintCLICKABLEhint crowd-pleasers:
The earthy wisdom of elongating your womb into adjacent postcodes: today's TERRIBLE advice
“At some point the advice stops being advice…and just becomes a ride. And honestly, that’s the fun of it. You show up for help....and leave with absolutely none… but somehow still satisfied. Thanks for getting me to giggle! 😂😂😂😂”
On gaggles of hussies, showers of floozies, bullshit pro-breasts praise, and vast adult babies: today's TERRIBLE advice
“Sometimes laughter can make a point that outrage cannot. The satire isn't really about revenge....it's about showing how ridiculous it is that mothers are still criticized for feeding their children. Always love reading your work!”
On conscripting lesbian bitches and gay male dogs through Pray-The-Gay-Away camps for rich entitled floozies: today's TERRIBLE advice
“This was gloriously unhinged from start to finish. 😂 The absurd escalation from "gay dogs" to "cats caused by conversion camps" had me laughing because it never pretended to be anything but satire. Underneath the chaos, though, there's a sharp jab at the ridiculousness of trying to "fix" someone's identity. The humor is outrageous, but the point lands. Looking forward to reading more of your beautifully deranged "Terrible Advice."”
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?
I was not prepared for where this was going. 😂 The "intermediate asshole of daring and vigorous ambition" absolutely sent me.