Being jokes
It must not be a good suicide story if you can tell it.
There's a man crawling through the desert. He'd decided to try his SUV in a little bit of cross-country travel, had great fun zooming over the badlands and through the sand, got lost, hit a big rock, and then he couldn't get it started again. There were no cell phone towers anywhere near, so his cell phone was useless. He had no family, his parents had died a few years before in an auto accident, and his few friends had no idea he was out here. He stayed with the car for a day or so, but his one bottle of water ran out and he was getting thirsty. He thought maybe he knew the direction back, now that he'd paid attention to the sun and thought he'd figured out which way was north, so he decided to start walking. He figured he only had to go about 30 miles or so and he'd be back to the small town he'd gotten gas in last. He thinks about walking at night to avoid the heat and sun, but based upon how dark it actually was the night before, and given that he has no flashlight, he's afraid that he'll break a leg or step on a rattlesnake. So, he puts on some sun block, puts the rest in his pocket for reapplication later, brings an umbrella he'd had in the back of the SUV with him to give him a little shade, pours the windshield wiper fluid into his water bottle in case he gets that desperate, brings his pocket knife in case he finds a cactus that looks like it might have water in it, and heads out in the direction he thinks is right. He walks for the entire day. By the end of the day he's really thirsty. He's been sweating all day, and his lips are starting to crack. He's reapplied the sunblock twice, and tried to stay under the umbrella, but he still feels sunburned. The windshield wiper fluid sloshing in the bottle in his pocket is really getting tempting now. He knows that it's mainly water and some ethanol and coloring, but he also knows that they add some kind of poison to it to keep people from drinking it. He wonders what the poison is, and whether the poison would be worse than dying of thirst. He pushes on, trying to get to that small town before dark. By the end of the day he starts getting worried. He figures he's been walking at least 3 miles an hour, according to his watch for over 10 hours. That means that if his estimate was right that he should be close to the town. But he doesn't recognize any of this. He had to cross a dry creek bed a mile or two back, and he doesn't remember coming through it in the SUV. He figures that maybe he got his direction off just a little and that the dry creek bed was just off to one side of his path. He tells himself that he's close, and that after dark he'll start seeing the town lights over one of these hills, and that'll be all he needs. As it gets dim enough that he starts stumbling over small rocks and things, he finds a spot and sits down to wait for full dark and the town lights. Full dark comes before he knows it. He must have dozed off. He stands back up and turns all the way around. He sees nothing but stars. He wakes up the next morning feeling absolutely lousy. His eyes are gummy and his mouth and nose feel like they're full of sand. He so thirsty that he can't even swallow. He barely got any sleep because it was so cold. He'd forgotten how cold it got at night in the desert and hadn't noticed it the night before because he'd been in his car. He knows the Rule of Threes - three minutes without air, three days without water, three weeks without food - then you die. Some people can make it a little longer, in the best situations. But the desert heat and having to walk and sweat isn't the best situation to be without water. He figures, unless he finds water, this is his last day. He rinses his mouth out with a little of the windshield wiper fluid. He waits a while after spitting that little bit out, to see if his mouth goes numb, or he feels dizzy or something. Has his mouth gone numb? Is it just in his mind? He's not sure. He'll go a little farther, and if he still doesn't find water, he'll try drinking some of the fluid. Then he has to face his next, harder question - which way does he go from here? Does he keep walking the same way he was yesterday (assuming that he still knows which way that is), or does he try a new direction? He has no idea what to do. Looking at the hills and dunes around him, he thinks he knows the direction he was heading before. Just going by a feeling, he points himself somewhat to the left of that, and starts walking. As he walks, the day starts heating up. The desert, too cold just a couple of hours before, soon becomes an oven again. He sweats a little at first, and then stops. He starts getting worried at that - when you stop sweating he knows that means you're in trouble - usually right before heat stroke. He decides that it's time to try the windshield wiper fluid. He can't wait any longer - if he passes out, he's dead. He stops in the shade of a large rock, and takes the bottle. "BETTER NATE THAN LEVER!!!"
Mohamed Atta would probably be pretty mad at these posts.
A bully chokes me. I simply say, "Joke's on you, I like being choked!"
FaceBook Story: My mom loves FaceBook; she literally posts every day, but this day was sort of a hard hit.
So what happened was my mom got tired of her old name on Facebook, so she changed it to Thatmilf85, and I don't want to explain what milf means, but she got a lot of DM's from a lot of old guys. BUT, this one exact guy named Johnny Sins asked my mom if she wanted to do an adult film. I don't know what that is. I think it's an adult movie, of course, so she says yes and flies out to San Diego, and she never came back after yesterday, and to YOU Johnny Sins, my mom better be Ok and that adult film better be an adult movie and not a por...
Genders are like the twin towers. There used to be two, but now it's just a sensitive subject.
He was walking in the city as he was walking in the city as he was walking in the city as he was walking in the city as he was walking in the city as he was walking in the city hall in French, and then on his way to be a good friend of the situation in the city, as he had been fixed in a few hours of the situation in which he was walking. I will never shiver at the sight [of] words.
Roses are red, violets are blue, I'll f*ck your mom, and you'll be next.
Your hairline is so far back that it would be a 70 mile trip to the back.
What's a plus side to being an orphan?
Every bag of chips is family size. T - T
One day a local pastor was visiting the home of some parishioners who had a teenage son. The parents were worried about what career their son would choose, so the pastor said he had a simple test that could predict what would become of him.
He would put three objects on a table and let the young man choose whichever one he wanted to have: a Bible, a wallet, and a bottle of scotch. If the boy chose the Bible, he would probably become a priest; if he chose the wallet, he'd be a banker; and if he chose the bottle, he'd become a worthless bum.
So the parents called their son into the room, and the pastor told him he could have whichever object he wished. When the boy promptly picked up all three, the pastor cried out, "Heaven forbid! He's going to be a Jesuit!"
You go h dichotomy lol what do you want to what what’s the name for the address for sure what’s what I name it says I name it lol I don’t o I have to get r CB n nu set set e Okay okay I’ll be at my place.
Women be like chivalry is dead, then don't say thank you when you open the door for them.
The Twin Towers are just like genders.
There used to be two, but now it's a sensitive topic.
What do black people and sports cars have in common?
Getting a noise complaint for being so loud.
Did you hear of the guy who was sad about being in a wheelchair? He had that crippling depression.
If I were a party, then anxiety must be the cousin depression felt obligated to bring to the party, and insomnia the little annoying sibling.
Why do orphans become criminals? To know what it’s like to be wanted.
If things don't get better, the Christmas lights won't be the only thing hanging.
Number 1 ventriloquist dies at age 76, will be mist.
