Throw yourself on an anti-breasts grenade to save the squad: 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:
Patricia asks
Hola! Getting my boobies chopped on Thursday and haven't mentioned it to most people. What should I tell them happened? (EDIT: what do?)
My answer
Tell them you valiantly threw yourself upon an anti-breasts grenade to save the rest of your squad.
Original: https://mikeyclarke.co.nz/blog/2021/11/throw-yourself-on-an-anti-breasts-grenade-to-save-the-squad-todays-terrible-advice
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Bullshit Hors D’oeuvres: TERRIBLE ADVICE posts
Enjoy this snazzy sampling of hintCLICKABLEhint crowd-pleasers:
Soy milk: my childhood enlightenment on Gay vs Homosexual vs Vegetarian vs Santa Claus vs Sergeant Spacedicks
“I love how unhinged your connections are in every article! I can never guess where it's going until the end!”
Debauchery, drugs, jazz, communes, beatniks, lentils, oral sex, midnight frolics, witchcraft, sit-ins, marches, oral sex, foxtrots, covens, sandals, oral sex, and oral sex: today's TERRIBLE advice
“See this is what I love. Monsieur Taniwha didn’t need to exist. And yet here we are, better for it. This is what happens when someone actually thinks before dispensing advice — you get a full geopolitical and sexual history of a fictional New Zealander before arriving, somehow perfectly, at the point. Unhinged. Thorough. Oddly moving. I’d like “seconds” of this kind of chaos please ❤️”
Cross-breeding Mike Tyson with Ron Jeremy, monetising concussions, and flaying Ayn Rand fans: today's TERRIBLE advice
“Wow that's some of the most hilarious and funniest, wildest shit I ever read! Thank you! That's absolutely fucking brilliant! Like the Mike Tyson/Ron Jeremy mash up!? Genius!”
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?