Sunday, August 23, 2009

Seagulling the Gullable - The Holy Scripture


Seagulling - the act of ejaculating in one's own hands and then immediately applying the sperm to someone else's face, by throwing, slapping, or wiping. Currently only appliable for the male human species.

The 7 Commandments:

1. Worship your body, for it is your ocean. Eat food that make your semen smelly, like asparagus and onions. Alcohol and various drugs prolong the cumming time. Avoid them. They are the enemy. A seagull is a bird of swiftness and precision.

2. Avoid masturbation and/or sexual intercourse a week before the scheduled seagulling. You must keep your reservoirs full for the bird show.

3. Keep your testosterone level high. Blue balls-high. That means indulging in obscene amounts of Steven Segal movies. May be substituted for Bruce Willis or other badass movies. Avoid Meg Ryanesque movies like the plague.

4. Do not wear underpants. Wear running shoes and comfortable pants. After the act of seagulling - you are the ultimate victor. Nothing left to prove. No act is so challenging/humiliating as the act of seagulling. It's a monstrous upgrade of the medieval glove-slap. It is expected that the segullee will get the tremendous urge to destroy the seaguller. Running away is more honorable way than Steven-Segaling the victim. Don't be fooled by the alliteratic similarity between seagulling and Steven-Segaling.

5. If by some unexpected planetary-alignement shitapalooza, the female victim enjoyed being seagulled - marry her. She is a whore with a sense of humor and women don't come in a better package than that. If, on the other hand, the male seagulee seems pleased, Gull forbid, you are advised to Steven-Segal him. He is a perverted homo and taints the wonderful gullable race of humans. The main objective of seagulling is fun, not inciting sexual perversions.

6. Worship St. Icarus, also known as The Great Gull. He left us valuable knowledge that we, as men, are not able to multitask, and therefore are not able to fly and wank at the same time. That is, until a member of our respected society invents an auto-piloted flying device. From which point on, we will begin to apply the legendary Icarus Attack. One day, my protein-spreading brothers, one day.

7. Execute the sacred act of seagulling as close to perfection as possible. You are advised to caress your bird unnoticeably with one hand in your pocket - a sport called the Pocket Billiards. When you approach the moment of inevitable ejaculation, quickly drop your pants, monstrously cum in your hands, and start spreading the love. After the sweet, sticky victory, refer to the 4th and the 5th Commandments. Bye-bye glue-face or hello Mr. Panda-goggles.

The 3 Mortal Sins

1. Do not seagull a brother Gull, unless in a holiday-feature match in one of our specially designed Brotherhood of Gull battle arenas.

2. Do not fail to execute the holy sacrament of seagulling on the only Gull holiday - your own birthday.

3. Do not seagull children, sick people, or animals. If a being is not physically capable of kicking your feathers and/or chasing you, it is like taking an anchovy from a baby seagull. It just isn't gool.

Membership Information:

If you wish to become the official member of the great Brotherhood of Gull, you will have to send us a video of the holy deed to Button cameras work best - you will never regret that investment, and we have a special Beginner's Package available at our website, which includes everything you need for a perfect start in the world of Gull. Official badges (available in ivory and gooey-green) and membership cards are sent monthly, upon membership approval.

Happy seagulling, caaaa, caaaa!

Friday, August 21, 2009

LimeWire or Are software programmers alcoholics or evil apes

OK, I've been around computers my entire life. I've studied programming. I know all ins and outs of the M$ Windows. For years I was compulsively trying out every new software that came out. I'm no fool in that area.

So, I was installing LimeWire, a peer-to-peer (P2P) software, greatly respected over the Internet. Now, my computer is an ancient piece of crap, but it pretty much runs all software relatively smoothly, with a bit of heavy breathing with eviler graphic programs like CorelDraw and such. Still, all is nicely usable and acceptably smooth.
Well, not this gem. Installation took more than 10 minutes (I should've timed it, but I wasn't expecting that a 20 MB software could ever take more than 1-2 minutes - it never did), my desktop was freezing/unfreezing the entire time. Then I started the program. Oh my. I heard my PC cry. Then weep uncontrollably. It looked like a fucking slideshow. It pretty much took all the RAM I had available and cozily nested its bastardly carcass in it, while continuously taking up 100% of my processor (a normal P2P program takes no more than 20%). But I guess anything less than 100% would be not-good-enough-for-the-greatest-software-ever™. I joined my PC in weeping.

Nevertheless, I gathered the strength to actually do a search. I entered a few of the unbelievably obscure bands from Europe, expecting my PC to melt. Now, this may be some English conspiracy, being that all 3 bands were Irish underground bands, because LimeWire found nothing. Right. Except he did find a plethora of Miley Cyrus videos that were mysteriously connected with my search. Interesting. She's evidently Irish.
Uninstall time. Throwing ice cubes on my CPU time.

Is there a software firm out there that employs severely mentally retarded people? After this trip, I'm quite sure of it. I'm sending them my CV:

Name: Gorilla
Occupation: gorilla
Working experience: being gorilla
Special skills: peeling bananas and throwing feces

I expect they'll say that they can't (unfortunately) employ me, as I am severely overqualified. Next time I'm squeezing limes for my feces mojito™, I'm doing it against my hairy forehead.
Go team Gorilla.

Wednesday, August 19, 2009

I don't. Fucking. Care.

It is only fair that I would start my blogging career with a poem inspired by how I feel about the virtuallity that connects us all. More to come. Or not. I know the ending is monumental. Worship me.

I don't. Fucking. Care.

I don't care about the videos
where you torture your guitar
and expect the Youtube peasants
to rate you really high

I don't care about your haircut
or where you went club-jamming
I'll become your Myspace friend
just please, please stop the spamming

I don't care about which character
from Sleepless In Seattle
you are according to Facebook
where all you do is prattle

I don't care about anything
you have twerped on the Twitter
you twisted, twaddling twat
all you write is litter