On wankster hipster biohackers, smuggling engagement rings in coworker tumours, dreadful sorceressry, and pissing off all surgeons: today's TERRIBLE advice
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Vall asks
I’ve been crushing on one of my coworkers for years but kept my mouth shut because, y’know, professionalism.
He just discovered that he has cancer and will be undergoing major surgery for it ASAP.
What’s the best way to confess my feelings, to avoid causing him any additional stress in this deeply personal, challenging time?
***No OOC please. I’m not going to say anything. Just looking for a laugh because I’m sad/worried for him.
My answer
Propose to him. In style. Embed within your beloved's tumour an engagement ring, either by itself or inside one of those black-velvet presentation boxes, accompanied by a few dozen party poppers designed to go bang in the surgeons' faces as they remove it. You know. Something tasteful. A bit of pizazz. There's nothing that aids delicate scalpel-work and steady hands quite like hilarious surprise explosions. They'll adore it, and you. You'll be ever so popular.
So how, you ask, might you smuggle your party package within your beau's tumour? Easy. Good thing you came to me, honestly. You wouldn't believe how unimaginative most folk are re cancer-stealthing engagement rings. God, the stories I could tell you ...
But anyhoo. The idea is to find some way of burying both ring and party poppers inside the tumour without your beloved's knowledge, and the surgeons' knowledge too, so that when they unshroud your explodey treasures it's a glorious surprise all round. Maybe some kind of Cancer Ring supplement? Found one of those wankster hipster biohacker companies promising those ridiculous health supplements that return the gloss to your cheeks and spring in your step and blood to your gonads. But the capsules in actuality contain some kind of disassembled or tightly coiled/compactified engagement ring that when swallowed, the target's stomach acids remove the outer capsule coating, as per usual, but then ... I dunno, then, let's say the coiled metal ring is structured in such a way that its metal reverts to a ring-shape.
The remainder of the capsule's internal volume could comprise of some kind of cancer-cell Starter Kit. Problem solved. Swallowing an entire months-long course of additional "supplements" takes care of the party poppers. The ring, poppers, and embryo-cancer then get lodged in your beloved's intestines. They grow until detected and surgically removed, and only then do the surgeons discover the actual ring. Embedded in the tumour.
Be sure to add the following engraved message carved around its circumference like Sauron's One Ring: "Oh god oh god I have always loved you marry me marry me PS as you can see, I am quite obviously a sorceress of dreadful powers, so should you DISPLEASE me you'll surely regret it, now marry me pretty please mwah mwah mwah." Easy peasy. What bloke wouldn't go all aswoon at that?
Original: https://mikeyclarke.co.nz/blog/2022/2/on-wankster-hipster-biohackers-smuggling-engagement-rings-in-coworker-tumours-dreadful-sorceressry-and-pissing-off-all-surgeons-todays-terrible-advice
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Bullshit Hors D’oeuvres: TERRIBLE ADVICE posts
Enjoy this snazzy sampling of hintCLICKABLEhint crowd-pleasers:
Ten thousand tremulous thunder-thighs, the ideal relationship fuel: today's TERRIBLE advice
“MIKEY!!!!!! This. Was. Completely... UNHINGED!!! I loved every second of it. You need to be out giving EVERYBODY relationship advice because OBVIOUSLY this is the only real answer to Kate's relationship probs. This was a very easy instant subscribe!”
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.”
On Dark Triad gigantic assholes, Habsburg jaws, sweet sweet world domination, and devouring clients' noxious juices: today's TERRIBLE advice
“Haha cheers Mikey. Really funny, enjoyable read 🤣 at the start I was like wth 😂😂 but nicely tied together. Cheers mate!”
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?



haha love the dark humour.