On the sublime wisdom of ventriloquising wielding your harpy-neighbour's skeletal ancestors: 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:
Hel asks
So my downstairs neighbour has a problem with my kids getting up in the morning and walking across the floor. The landlord has agreed to put some soundproofing down but it’s not happening fast enough for this ‘lady’ who comes screaming outside my door and banging her door.I’m done ignoring her now but there is not a dad in sight at her house - so what do now??
My answer
Might you suspect she's about to storm up to your apartment to scream that your offspring need to stop holding Riverdance concerts on your floor? Pre-empt her. Batter down her own apartment door. Scream that her own ancestors need to cut out their colossal ostentatious Indian dance routines on her ceiling.
When she asks what the hell you're talking about, waggle a fake joke shop skeleton dressed up in a three-piece tux, or whatever more convenient clothing you'd stolen from her wardrobe the night before. Screech at her that vast armies of her deceased ancestors are punching up through your apartment floor like a subterranean Thriller video, and How Dare She, and What The Hell Does She Think She's Playing At.
Screech at her anew that, it turns out, most of her deceased ancestors are fleeing her apartment. They uniformly scream that haunting a horrific bitch like her is worse than nosebleeds, and bear traps, and paper cuts, and gonorrhoea, and Gandhi. These skeletal legions of the damned now cower in your abode, desperate for sanctuary.
Indulge in a spot of ventriloquism, brandishing your apparelled skelly chum: "Your own barren womb, Young Lady," your ventriloquising lap-guest apparently informs her, "is most certainly no excuse to abuse your upstairs neighbour, and her ability to pupate genuine humans! Woo-whooo-ghost-noises! Apologise to her at once! Should you do this for a sufficiently large number of thousand times, over as many months, and I shall consider putting in a good word for you in Purgatory with your Great-Grand-Uncle Octavian Princeps, for I hear he may return your uterus. Then by all means exhibit your one-woman population bomb in cahoots with our upstairs hostess! Perhaps some tasteful scissoring? Oyster, m'Lady?"
Original: https://mikeyclarke.co.nz/blog/2022/5/on-the-sublime-wisdom-of-ventriloquising-wielding-your-harpy-neighbours-skeletal-ancestors-todays-terrible-advice
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Bullshit Hors D’oeuvres: TERRIBLE ADVICE posts
Enjoy this snazzy sampling of hintCLICKABLEhint crowd-pleasers:
A goddess so magnificent melts before MOI? I'm phenomenal! Plus further ego-stroking manipulative bullshit: today's TERRIBLE advice
“What makes this funny is that beneath all the ridiculousness, there's a grain of truth hiding in there. Not about sleeping with your boyfriend's father, obviously, but about how often people justify behavior by appealing to someone else's ego, blind spots, or assumptions.”
How to avoid embarrassing your mum by spreading 10^50 gay gents across the universe: today's TERRIBLE advice
“What makes this funny isn't the shock value for me....it's the escalation. 😂💀😂 Every time I thought I'd found the logical endpoint, the piece somehow introduced cosmology, time travel, or particle physics and made the situation even more absurd. A masterclass in taking a joke far beyond where it should reasonably go. You always have me giggling Mikey! This was great!”
On scheming bitches, Antarctic science side quests, extra-gorgeous ponies, and the Zodiac Killer: today's TERRIBLE advice
“Hoooollllyyyy shit Mikey! The transition from "your husband might be keeping secrets" to "maybe she's running a wedding-vow-renewal side hustle at the South Pole" was so fucking wild that by the end I was fully invested in the horse conspiracy. 😂😂😂😂😂😂”
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?