my brother is sitting in the chair in my room studying a practice test thing for his final test before he becomes a fully certified EMT tomorrow and he’s mumbling some of the questions out loud and he just went “a child has fallen from a monkey at school…” and he just got dead quiet and stared at the wall for like a solid minute with the most stricken look on his face before he whispered “there’s no protocol for monkeys”
bro
bro it means monkey bars
now he’s googling “child falls from monkey” and apparently the only thing that pops up is Fall Out Boy’s “Thnks Fr th Mmrs”
I M L AHUGNI N G SO H ARD HE WENT INTO THE KITCHEN LIKE 5 MINUTES AGO AND STARTED A CONVERSATION WITH MY MOM AND I HEARD HIM JUST STOP MID SENTENCE AND THEN SHOUT “FUCKING MONKEY BARS”
this was a post meant for like 6 people who actually know my brother and now this is the only image he has on this site he’s the “monkey protocol” guy for almost 100,000 people I give up
So these Christian anti-feminist protestors showed up at my school and were just yelling misogynist things at everyone, when this guy suddenly walks up in front of them mid-rant and just starts…. singing opera
Hwat?? That’s right, I’ve apparently reached 60 followers! So, I’m doing a little art thing in celebration! Because y’know. …and also I want to so here we go!
I’m gonna do a lil’ raffle, with three places! All ya gotta do to enter is like this post, although feel free to reblog too if you want to! My only rule is that I won’t do nsfw.
You see, the prizes are as follows!
First place: A Good traditional drawing/sketch AND a short piece of writing! Short being… however long it ends up being? About a brief chapter’s worth depending on what you want me to write.
Second Place: A Reasonable Traditional Drawing/Sketch OR a short piece of writing!
Third Place: A silly/phone sketch OR a silly piece of writing.
i havent shaved my legs in a really long time and while i was babysitting my skirt edged up a bit and the seven year old i was watching said “ew you should shave that hairs not supposed to be there” and i said “well if its not supposed to be there then why does it grow there?” and he was really silent for a long time and then finally said “lets watch sonic the hedgehog”
tumors grow, are they supposed to be there?
its called “evolution”, just because its there doesnt mean its useful or wanted.
Local Man Compares Leg Hair To Cancer, Genuinely Thought It Was A Smart Argument.
Are you sure you know what you’re asking of me? Are you sure? Well, okay. But don’t say I didn’t warn you. This post is long and contains description of genital injury.
So as you’ll know, I worked three and a half long, hilarious years at an NHS sexual health and contraception clinic. I loved that job, and packed it in because the Tory cuts to the service meant running it became hideously untenably stressful, but that’s a story for another time.
One of my duties at the clinic was to take phone calls. Patients liked me on the phone because I have a nice voice and I’m basically completely unflappable, and they felt happy to tell me things. A vital skill in the wang biz.
One day, a man called. This was not unusual. “Hello,” he said. “I need to see one of your nurses about my, er, my chap.”
“Righty-oh sir,” I said, “are you experiencing any symptoms that you’re concerned about? It’s just a yes or no kind of question.”
“Well,” he said, and I instantly felt a dark and terrible energy pulsate down the phone. “Well… sort of. But, uh, it’s not symptoms of anything, it’s just…”
I would come to regret what I said next. “Is everything all right, sir?”
“Well.” There was a pause. I heard fidgeting. “I got a yeast infection.”
Phew, easy peasy. Yeasties are easy to fix. I sounded reassuring and buoyant. “Well that’s nothing to worry about, sir – if you don’t want to get anything over the counter from the chemist, we can-”
“No, no, that’s not the problem. Listen -” he sounded serious. “Listen, I’ll just tell you what’s the matter, and you’ll see what I mean.”
This is where, whenever I tell this story, I like to ask the listener to play a little game with me. The game is “Where Would You Tap Out?” I’d have already tapped out by going to the chemist and getting some Canestan.
“I didn’t want any chemicals on my chap, so I decided to go for a home remedy. Internet said garlic was good for yeast infections, and I’ve got a lot of garlic, so I figured that’d be all right.”
I made sympathetic noises. Home remedies for yeast infections are normal, and garlic is actually quite effective. “Oh good,” I said.
“I wasn’t sure how much to use, but I figured, I have a lot of garlic usually, so I minced a whole bulb.”
The dark energy wafting down the phone intensified.
“I packed it all over my, you know, knob, made a poultice. Packed it all over the head, like a hat. But, uh, I wasn’t sure how to keep it on..”
I couldn’t say anything. I didn’t want to scare him off by sounding judgemental.
“..so I just duct taped it all on. Wrapped duct tape all round it.”
Still with us? Tapped out yet?
“So er, that worked, kept it on nice and tight, and I left it on over night.”
Over night. All night with your cock mummified in garlic paste like some sort of fiendish chicken kiev.
“But, uh, when I took it off the next morning, well… garlic is…”
“Caustic,” I said, before I could stop myself. “Garlic is caustic.”
“Yeah! Yeah, it is!” he said, sounding cheerful that I, too, understood the Way of Garlic. “So I unwrapped my dick and, well, it looked kind of like… melted.”
I sat, silent, on the phone. Already I’d missed 6 other calls, watching them sail by on the other line while this saga unfolded.
“So I figured,” he continued, the terrible juggernaut barrelling unstoppably through this phallic disaster, “I should probably exfoliate it.”
“Exfoliate,” I echoed weakly.
“Yeah,” said this abject human disaster, misinterpreting my echolalic expression of horror as hearty encouragement. “So I had a look around the kitchen -” he was in the kitchen for all this “- for anything I could use and got my brillo pad-”
For anyone not in the UK, that’s what we call one of these:
I must have betrayed myself and given a gasp of horror at that point, because he quickly reassured me – “No, no, no, it’s okay – it was a new one!” before going on to describe scrubbing the affected area to remove the alkaline chemical burn that he’d inflicted on his poor, blameless cock.
“So you want to come in because of… this?” I said, assuming he would want a new dick by this point.
“Oh no, no -” he said, jovial again. “No, it’s all fine – it just, my knob’s gone all… well, it kind of looks camo print now. I was wondering if you could do anything about it looking camo print.”
No, sir. No, neither we nor anyone else can do anything about your camo print garlic cock mistake.
i’m both impressed and horrified by his continued cheerfulness in the situation
Hello both impressed and horrified by his continued cheerfulness in the situation, I’m Dad!
Dad^bot^1.
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