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BigJimsWornOutTires

BigJimsWornOutTires

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When Wendy asked me to take her to a party downtown, I was confused. So I walked over to her and inquired, "Ugh. Are you blind people even allowed at parties?"

She laughed. "You are such an asshole; I'm turned on."

"Cringe. I didn't know you people could get aroused."

She taps her stick on the ground and saunters closer. She pushes her stick-hand against my stomach. "Mm-huh," seductively, she murmurs and takes me by surprise as I feel her other hand grabbing the zipper area of my jeans.

"Ugh. It's not there. Try a foot down along my right leg." I said with confidence as I wink at you, the reader. But quickly hesitate - feeling offensive having this blind woman molest me as you would have to bear witness, which is rather just fucked up. I seize and remove her hand.

She grapples with that rejection. "Asshole, let go of my hand!"

"No. Cringe alert." I push her back instead. Then, suspiciously, as if, deliberately, she falls carefully. "Oh crap! I pushed a handicapped woman down!" Speedily, I attend to the defenseless foid and help her up.

She clutches my package anyway. "There he goes."

"Ugh. Double-decker cringe. I'm being violated!" saying as I push her hand away. "Okay, I get it. You people are perverts. Message received."

She smiles and remarks, "You have no idea."

Half an hour later, after driving and listening to her babble about personal details about herself, as well as struggling with that sex offender's advances, we arrived at her destination. I open the passenger door and say, "I'll walk you to the door, but I'm not going inside. If there are more people like you there, I rather avoid such disturbance."

"Whatever." Sneeringly, she says, extending her hand. I help her out of the car.

I observed the path she had to walk and limned the obstacles along the way. "Dirty homeless bum to your right laying in his feces on democratic presidential campaign signs." She dodges the eyesore with precision and snubs her nose as if smelling something disgusting.

Approaching the entrance glass door to the condominium, a black man manifests from behind a group of ornament bushes and flowers. I bring her closer to me, position her in front, readying myself with an excellent solid body shield. I figured, like tossing a basketball to a group of negros, a blind white woman be just as beneficial. But, instead of accepting that offer, the subhuman says, "Yo, what up G! I'sir be having this thing and needs some money for the funny. Can you help a brother out?"

"No." Without any delay or time to compute what the fuck he just said, that response would've been the same regardless.

"Shiet, it ain't no thang when you down with no bling!" His colorful jargon of contradiction sickened me as he finally walked away jiggling and swaying - arms shaking and head bobbing. Ugh, fucking Flakka-Crapper.

Moments later, and after more resistance in the elevator against her gluey hand and kissing attempts, we reach the destination floor and promptly hear music blaring down the hallway as we proceed to the noise coming from behind a door she eventually knocks on. But no one answers, probably because her raps were weak. "Let me show you how it's done." I said as I pounded a closed fist on the door and screamed, "Vaccination Enforcement Department! Open up! HE-HAW!" She giggles and tries taking advantage of the distraction, and grabs it again.

I step aside.

The door opens, and a woman wearing a thin white silky see-thru gown reveals as I look down at her naked knees and become distracted by a gum wrapper on the floor nearest her feet. I quickly become suspicious, glance behind her, and see other barely dressed women and a naked guy walking out of sight. What the fuck is this? I pondered to myself with disgust.

"Wendy's here all!" The woman shouts toward the background. "And she's brought another fly." She spins back and focuses on me. Then her milfy eyes scan down my body as if undressing me and halts them at the conspicuous contour along my leg. Her eyes widen as her mouth slightly gaps.

"Ugh. Fuck no. I'm outta here." I said as I walked away.

Wendy tried to grab my arm but missed due to her blindness. "Business, please don't go! I promised the girls." She says as the woman grabs ahold of her arm and brings her body closer to her.

I stop and turn around. Ugh. Feeling used and almost sexually abused, I reply, "I thought you were different since you're blind. And not like the other vaginas. But you're all the same." Disappointment consumed me as I proceeded opposite down that cold, reasonably bright, hallway of intoxicating gallantries and moist fantasies. Yet, I could hear her giggle and the other woman mocking me with a fake sympathy interjection. Awwww.

As I was leaving the complex, I couldn't shake the memory of when I first met Wendy.

Earlier today, I was working on my engine using a sledgehammer to fix the mass flow sensor. A group of college kids was walking down a path adjacent to the shithole I lived. I figured they were probably from the building next door—Milsap's School for the Blind and Deaf. But then, a female voice bellowed from that crowd, "I got something you can bang on!"

Ugh. I thought to myself. I look over and attend to the proposer. She was a short blackhead with an anorectic figure wearing tight blue jeans and a black Metallica T-shirt. She couldn't have been more than 18 years of age. Though later, I'd found out she was 20. Not an age for my taste. I'm an odd bodybuilder and have illegal access to a parallel universe; I'm not the ordinary creepy perv. I like them not too wet, not too dry. Just right. She was obviously too wet.

"Ugh. Too much information!" I shouted, recoiling that mating cry.

"That makes no fucking sense, you old weirdo!" She yelled. The others in the group proceeded away as if abandoning this creature to defend for herself with nothing but a stick.

"Ugh. Tell me about it!"

"Oh, my gad! That's so hot. What's your name?" The Spirit of the Cringe moved upon me when she said those very words.

"None of your business!" I refused to declassify myself to this odd paradox. I knew this all too well. And so perhaps I'm stuck inside another loop once again. Ugh. Booger juice.

"Okay, Mr. Business, I'm Wendy. Can you drive me to a party downtown?"

OoO
 
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I'm a writer, not a decipher. I need someone, or a group of thinkers, to decipher what I write. You have to understand, I don't sit back brainstorming story plots. They just appear and I translate them into words I understand. Perhaps, there are too many rocks inside my head that prevents seeds from growing.

Picture a rocky terrain. And you're wanting to grow lawn grass. Too many rocks. So you would need to remove the rocks and replace them with fresh soil and shit. Then sow the seeds.
 
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When Wendy asked me to take her to a party downtown, I was confused. So I walked over to her and inquired, "Ugh. Are you blind people even allowed at parties?"

She laughed. "You are such an asshole; I'm turned on."

"Cringe. I didn't know you people could get aroused."

She taps her stick on the ground and saunters closer. She pushes her stick-hand against my stomach. "Mm-huh," seductively, she murmurs and takes me by surprise as I feel her other hand grabbing the zipper area of my jeans.

"Ugh. It's not there. Try a foot down along my right leg." I said with confidence as I wink at you, the reader. But quickly hesitate - feeling offensive having this blind woman molest me as you would have to bear witness, which is rather just fucked up. I seize and remove her hand.

She grapples with that rejection. "Asshole, let go of my hand!"

"No. Cringe alert." I push her back instead. Then, suspiciously, as if, deliberately, she falls carefully. "Oh crap! I pushed a handicapped woman down!" Speedily, I attend to the defenseless foid and help her up.

She clutches my package anyway. "There he goes."

"Ugh. Double-decker cringe. I'm being violated!" saying as I push her hand away. "Okay, I get it. You people are perverts. Message received."

She smiles and remarks, "You have no idea."

Half an hour later, after driving and listening to her babble about personal details about herself, as well as struggling with that sex offender's advances, we arrived at her destination. I open the passenger door and say, "I'll walk you to the door, but I'm not going inside. If there are more people like you there, I rather avoid such disturbance."

"Whatever." Sneeringly, she says, extending her hand. I help her out of the car.

I observed the path she had to walk and limned the obstacles along the way. "Dirty homeless bum to your right laying in his feces on democratic presidential campaign signs." She dodges the eyesore with precision and snubs her nose as if smelling something disgusting.

Approaching the entrance glass door to the condominium, a black man manifests from behind a group of ornament bushes and flowers. I bring her closer to me, position her in front, readying myself with an excellent solid body shield. I figured, like tossing a basketball to a group of negros, a blind white woman be just as beneficial. But, instead of accepting that offer, the subhuman says, "Yo, what up G! I'sir be having this thing and needs some money for the funny. Can you help a brother out?"

"No." Without any delay or time to compute what the fuck he just said, that response would've been the same regardless.

"Shiet, it ain't no thang when you down with no bling!" His colorful jargon of contradiction sickened me as he finally walked away jiggling and swaying - arms shaking and head bobbing. Ugh, fucking Flakka-Crapper.

Moments later, and after more resistance in the elevator against her gluey hand and kissing attempts, we reach the destination floor and promptly hear music blaring down the hallway as we proceed to the noise coming from behind a door she eventually knocks on. But no one answers, probably because her raps were weak. "Let me show you how it's done." I said as I pounded a closed fist on the door and screamed, "Vaccination Enforcement Department! Open up! HE-HAW!" She giggles and tries taking advantage of the distraction, and grabs it again.

I step aside.

The door opens, and a woman wearing a thin white silky see-thru gown reveals as I look down at her naked knees and become distracted by a gum wrapper on the floor nearest her feet. I quickly become suspicious, glance behind her, and see other barely dressed women and a naked guy walking out of sight. What the fuck is this? I pondered to myself with disgust.

"Wendy's here all!" The woman shouts toward the background. "And she's brought another fly." She spins back and focuses on me. Then her milfy eyes scan down my body as if undressing me and halts them at the conspicuous contour along my leg. Her eyes widen as her mouth slightly gaps.

"Ugh. Fuck no. I'm outta here." I said as I walked away.

Wendy tried to grab my arm but missed due to her blindness. "Business, please don't go! I promised the girls." She says as the woman grabs ahold of her arm and brings her body closer to her.

I stop and turn around. Ugh. Feeling used and almost sexually abused, I reply, "I thought you were different since you're blind. And not like the other vaginas. But you're all the same." Disappointment consumed me as I proceeded opposite down that cold, reasonably bright, hallway of intoxicating gallantries and moist fantasies. Yet, I could hear her giggle and the other woman mocking me with a fake sympathy interjection. Awwww.

As I was leaving the complex, I couldn't shake the memory of when I first met Wendy.

Earlier today, I was working on my engine using a sledgehammer to fix the mass flow sensor. A group of college kids was walking down a path adjacent to the shithole I lived. I figured they were probably from the building next door—Milsap's School for the Blind and Deaf. But then, a female voice bellowed from that crowd, "I got something you can bang on!"

Ugh. I thought to myself. I look over and attend to the proposer. She was a short blackhead with an anorectic figure wearing tight blue jeans and a black Metallica T-shirt. She couldn't have been more than 18 years of age. Though later, I'd found out she was 20. Not an age for my taste. I'm an odd bodybuilder and have illegal access to a parallel universe; I'm not the ordinary creepy perv. I like them not too wet, not too dry. Just right. She was obviously too wet.

"Ugh. Too much information!" I shouted, recoiling that mating cry.

"That makes no fucking sense, you old weirdo!" She yelled. The others in the group proceeded away as if abandoning this creature to defend for herself with nothing but a stick.

"Ugh. Tell me about it!"

"Oh, my gad! That's so hot. What's your name?" The Spirit of the Cringe moved upon me when she said those very words.

"None of your business!" I refused to declassify myself to this odd paradox. I knew this all too well. And so perhaps I'm stuck inside another loop once again. Ugh. Booger juice.

"Okay, Mr. Business, I'm Wendy. Can you drive me to a party downtown?"

OoO
read every molecule
 
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what are the drugs you take to come up with this shit
 
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Read half but its pretty great
 
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what are the drugs you take to come up with this shit
I don't indulge in spells and potions anymore. Perhaps, in the past, I had. But unlike normal people, I couldn't get addicted. Mesmerized, absolutely. Drugs don't open intelligent expansion doors inside your mind. They open a gateway. "OPEN HOUSE!" And ugh, what spiritual parasites may come. And we shouldn't judge them as evil. They're life. Do they not deserve to live? But unlike our biological machines and what we know living to be, spiritual parasites can not be registered with Earthily materials. You'll need a pickle from Jupiter. Though not pertaining to a rotten cucumber soaked in vinegar, a piece of glass-like material. Can only be found on Jupiter or within its shadow (moons.)

Okay? Does that answer your question?
 
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orb
 
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well written with good prose 3/10
Ugh. Well. My apologies for flinging a trick question at you. That story was nothing more than relieving my bowels on this forum. Like taking a dump. So if anything, the story was pure garbage and a big pile of steaming shit gift wrapped for Looksmax. I get off, in a sick and twisted disturbed way, shitting on this forum. Like a swimsuit model taking laxatives all day, I take Looksmax blackpills.
 
Ugh. Well. My apologies for flinging a trick question at you. That story was nothing more than relieving my bowels on this forum. Like taking a dump. So if anything, the story was pure garbage and a big pile of steaming shit gift wrapped for Looksmax. I get off, in a sick and twisted disturbed way, shitting on this forum. Like a swimsuit model taking laxatives all day, I take Looksmax blackpills.
how is your ascension journey going?
 
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cmon please do it
The journey never ends. Although I finished most of it years ago. But how I did it wouldn't be advised to anyone because of the unforeseen dangers and potential rejection.

The dusk was swallowing the light around as I walked deeper into that wet forest. It'd rained hours prior. A choir of voices proclaimed at once from the wind that blew. "We are the Makers of Men. We will break you. Then make you." Deer manifested from the shrubs and wilderness shadow as I reached around, clutched my backpack, and unstrapped the Made in China bands. I unzip it and bury my hands inside and retrieve a bag of sweet satsumas. The adult female deer approached as the adolescents kept a wary distance. I unpeeled the fruit and fed the deer. The younglings finally came with bravery, so I fed them as well.

During that wildlife feeding against the law, there was a buck observing the entire event. I would see him the following morning eyeing me as I stepped on the charred smoldering wood from last night's grilled shrimp and steak-flamed dinner. I buried the smoking wood and left the wilderness.

At that time, I had no idea what truly took place that night—an ascension.

From hubbub of voices and sounds of creepy little critters, fish splashing, birds cooing, silent lovers fucking, leaves fluttering...SOMETHING ELSE was there with me.

Years later, I would hear that chorale again. "Now, we will make you." And that fresh dawn, I started walking. Jogging. Running—injured me. But I liked it! I loved that aching sensation.

Ugh. Autism's calling.
 
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The journey never ends. Although I finished most of it years ago. But how I did it wouldn't be advised to anyone because of the unforeseen dangers and potential rejection.

The dusk was swallowing the light around as I walked deeper into that wet forest. It'd rained hours prior. A choir of voices proclaimed at once from the wind that blew. "We are the Makers of Men. We will break you. Then make you." Deer manifested from the shrubs and wilderness shadow as I reached around, clutched my backpack, and unstrapped the Made in China bands. I unzip it and bury my hands inside and retrieve a bag of sweet satsumas. The adult female deer approached as the adolescents kept a wary distance. I unpeeled the fruit and fed the deer. The younglings finally came with bravery, so I fed them as well.

During that wildlife feeding against the law, there was a buck observing the entire event. I would see him the following morning eyeing me as I stepped on the charred smoldering wood from last night's grilled shrimp and steak-flamed dinner. I buried the smoking wood and left the wilderness.

At that time, I had no idea what truly took place that night—an ascension.

From hubbub of voices and sounds of creepy little critters, fish splashing, birds cooing, silent lovers fucking, leaves fluttering...SOMETHING ELSE was there with me.

Years later, I would hear that chorale again. "Now, we will make you." And that fresh dawn, I started walking. Jogging. Running—injured me. But I liked it! I loved that aching sensation.

Ugh. Autism's calling.
Thank you
 
The journey never ends. Although I finished most of it years ago. But how I did it wouldn't be advised to anyone because of the unforeseen dangers and potential rejection.

The dusk was swallowing the light around as I walked deeper into that wet forest. It'd rained hours prior. A choir of voices proclaimed at once from the wind that blew. "We are the Makers of Men. We will break you. Then make you." Deer manifested from the shrubs and wilderness shadow as I reached around, clutched my backpack, and unstrapped the Made in China bands. I unzip it and bury my hands inside and retrieve a bag of sweet satsumas. The adult female deer approached as the adolescents kept a wary distance. I unpeeled the fruit and fed the deer. The younglings finally came with bravery, so I fed them as well.

During that wildlife feeding against the law, there was a buck observing the entire event. I would see him the following morning eyeing me as I stepped on the charred smoldering wood from last night's grilled shrimp and steak-flamed dinner. I buried the smoking wood and left the wilderness.

At that time, I had no idea what truly took place that night—an ascension.

From hubbub of voices and sounds of creepy little critters, fish splashing, birds cooing, silent lovers fucking, leaves fluttering...SOMETHING ELSE was there with me.

Years later, I would hear that chorale again. "Now, we will make you." And that fresh dawn, I started walking. Jogging. Running—injured me. But I liked it! I loved that aching sensation.

Ugh. Autism's calling.
Is writing so much promoting growth or does it tire you?
 
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Is writing so much promoting growth or does it tire you?
Eh. Good question. I have no idea. One minute I'm selling shitty tires, next I'm writing shitty stories. Ugh. A real cluster-fuck.
 
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Eh. Good question. I have no idea. One minute I'm selling shitty tires, next I'm writing shitty stories. Ugh. A real cluster-fuck.
I don't know how marketable writing is. You'd have to really invest thought and effort into making a profit off your skills, I think you got stuck at doing this for internet dopamine (could be a massive misinterpretation but that's how I see it) or procrastination or something.
You have the skills to be good enough to maybe make a profit. Look at what other writers are doing.
Idk. Boogers.
 
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I don't know how marketable writing is. You'd have to really invest thought and effort into making a profit off your skills, I think you got stuck at doing this for internet dopamine (could be a massive misinterpretation but that's how I see it) or procrastination or something.
You have the skills to be good enough to maybe make a profit. Look at what other writers are doing.
Idk. Boogers.
Thanks, that means a lot, Christian. But I'm flagged by every government agency in this world, alongside corporations and the entertainment industry. I was signaled at the moment of conception. I'm just a guest in this world and prohibited from tasting any sweetness of success. I have no education and especially proof of such. Believe it or not, I didn't speak this language until I was eight. Prior I uttered in tongue - gibberish. I tried running away when I took my first steps around one year. Ugh. As if I knew I didn't belong. But the souls I've crossed paths with and understood personally; some romantically (sexually, there was no love there) a normie would want their autograph. As if a trophy for their worship of its vanity. It's an absolute clusterfuck.
 
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I was signaled at the moment of conception. I'm just a guest in this world and prohibited from tasting any sweetness of success.
That's not true at all fren. There are no axioms stopping your from doing so. This is bluepilled but it's about "growth mindset"

have no education and especially proof of such.
So? My brother didn't finish high school and has a higher paying job then my father ALREADY, he's 23, my dad is 48, and he's already making more then him despite my dad working in the same field for 15~ years. He did have connections from inside the job though.
I understand this doesn't at all accurately translate to anywhere else, massively depends on the country. In that regard it is kind of luck. But maybe you can gtfo of your country if it's bad?
Idk.
Boogers.

Or are you speaking about different kind of education? :Comfy:


Alright I'm not clever enough or just retarded, can't understand fully the rest of your post fren :Comfy:
 
That's not true at all fren. There are no axioms stopping your from doing so. This is bluepilled but it's about "growth mindset"


So? My brother didn't finish high school and has a higher paying job then my father ALREADY, he's 23, my dad is 48, and he's already making more then him despite my dad working in the same field for 15~ years. He did have connections from inside the job though.
I understand this doesn't at all accurately translate to anywhere else, massively depends on the country. In that regard it is kind of luck. But maybe you can gtfo of your country if it's bad?
Idk.
Boogers.

Or are you speaking about different kind of education? :Comfy:


Alright I'm not clever enough or just retarded, can't understand fully the rest of your post fren :Comfy:
True. I know a few successful people without higher literacy. Trump, for one, lacked a college education. I think, from what I heard, he did what a doctor friend I used to have arranged, purchased the high school diploma. Everything and anything is doable. I get that.

I have a place if I ever want in Germany, England, Russia, Mexico, and Jamaica. Fuck Canada, but yeah, there too. But I'm lazy. Traveling, ugh, too much work there. Though if Germany can come here, right? Then perhaps I'll do just that.
 
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Germany is looking shit right due to vaccine mandates sadly.
 
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Germany is looking shit right due to vaccine mandates sadly.
It's coming to an end. The trials are over. Now it's a matter of releasing the final product. But whatever's happening in other nations, like Germany, has nothing to do with this virus. It's over.
 
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