Yoga inversion poses, Baileys by the keg, crushing unobservant supercarriers, and a gazillion dino-killers: 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:
Claire asks
i got my period and i don’t have pads. what do i use to avoid leaking?
My answer
Here's a few ideas:
Why not turn that frown upside-down? Why not spend the entirety of Shark Week performing handstands and walking upside-down? You can't leak if you're vertical. Unless you've got really really heavy flow, in which case, ew, but more importantly:
Become one of those glamorous wine-connoisseur-mums we're always reading about on television, you know, the ladies who guzzle Baileys by the keg by the minute. If you get your blood-alcohol level higher than quaffing a keg of lab ethanol, then you might just get your blood viscosity higher than molasses. Your that-time-of-the-month blood flow should slow to glacierlike oozing. You'll have days and days of warning before vast scarlet icebergs lurch from your twinkle-cave and crush unobservant supercarriers.
Your that-time-of-the-month happens monthly ... right? It does, doesn't it? Then why not stretch the duration of a month out to infinity? Simply crash a gazillion dino-killer asteroids against the Moon's glorious and globular ass. This will kick it into ever-speedier and more distant orbits from Earth. You'll have decades-long months before you know it.
Failing that, why not move to a planet with no moons at all? Venus? No moons, no month, no Shark Week, no leaks.
If these fail to achieve results and success, can't think why, then just revert to basics and become a Soviet Union Olympic gymnast.
Original: https://mikeyclarke.co.nz/blog/2022/5/yoga-inversion-poses-baileys-by-the-keg-crushing-unobservant-supercarriers-and-a-gazillion-dino-killers-todays-terrible-advice
Hungry for more?
Bullshit Hors D’oeuvres: TERRIBLE ADVICE posts
Enjoy this snazzy sampling of hintCLICKABLEhint crowd-pleasers:
The trembly tragedy of Darth Plagueis the Wise: today's TERRIBLE advice
“Had me at "I have no idea how many years of reverse upward sagging it’d take to reverse and cancel-out your X years of standard floorward sagging enjoyed by conventional breasts, but a decent duration, surely? Enough to buy you enough time to invent some kind of zero-gravity device and just let them flop and wobble around freely forever." 🤣🤣🤣 ... wth!”
Who should rule the world? Teenagers, that's not who
“Haha - love your writing so much.. 'I cultivate bullshit emeritus!' This made me lol.”
Rolls Royce IUDs, orgy lube droughts, Super-DUPER-Dracula, and nom-nom-ing Las Vegas: today's TERRIBLE advice
“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.”
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?
The escalation from ‘just flip yourself upside down’ to ‘relocate to Venus’ felt way too smooth. I’m slightly concerned about how normal that sounded by the end.
Informative