T1B

Play this out.
You have a co-worker whom you spend 5-8 hours a day with. You constantly talk about sports, religion, politics, play dominos...basically like anyone here, but in real life.

Let's say that person goes through some shit with his s/o and talks to you about that for a week. You give advice, get feedback...everything seems cool.

Let's say that then you show up for work and find out that the person you used-to work with has brutally stabbed his s/o to death over the weekend....

How would you feel about that co-worker?


I'll share how I would hypothetically feel about this later...

Take a ride with him in a white Ford Bronco.

If I was willed to receive the s/o's record player I would feel perty damn good about it.

But mostly, I can't wait to learn how you feel about it ....... later.

Looks like you gave your co-worker bad advice.

Rack Fu wrote:Take a ride with him in a white Ford Bronco.

I laughed.

Raid his office/cubicle for anything cool (autographed baseballs etc..) as well as important office supplies like a laptop.

dots, are you sure your co-worker didn't slice up his s/o because you dropped the double five on his black ass?

If I had to pick up any of his workload, I’d be pissed.

Pissed enough to stab someone to death (hypothetically)?

Hippopotamously.



- picture rumple and wife doing something -

mvscal wrote:replaced by a young, naive and attractive female with large breasts.

EEEWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW, gross!!!!!!!!!!

Sin,

RumpleForeskin wrote:dots, are you sure your co-worker didn't slice up his s/o because you dropped the double five on his black ass?

WTF is a "double five"?

BSmack wrote:WTF is a "double five"?

dotdotdot wrote:play dominos

mvscal wrote:55 isn't the weight of an individual rumplemammary?

Thats a good question. Alls I know is those canyons that guide my weiner raft are mighty tasty.

RumpleForeskin wrote:

BSmack wrote:WTF is a "double five"?

dotdotdot wrote:play dominos

So a double five is what? A domino? Is it like the Rumplewife of all dominoes, capable of crushing all opposition in its path?

BSchmuck, wanna bet....wait.

dotdotdot wrote: Let's say that then you show up for work and find out that the person you used-to work with has brutally stabbed his s/o to death over the weekend....

How would you feel about that co-worker?


I'll share how I would hypothetically feel about this later...

After the police find out about you and your 'good' advice, you're going to jail.


And you're probably gonna be assraped by a bunch of nogs and spics.


And you probably won't be participating in the epoch smakoff.

dotdotdot wrote:Play this out.
You have a co-worker whom you spend 5-8 hours a day with. You constantly talk about sports, religion, politics, play dominos...basically like anyone here, but in real life.

Let's say that person goes through some shit with his s/o and talks to you about that for a week. You give advice, get feedback...everything seems cool.

Let's say that then you show up for work and find out that the person you used-to work with has brutally stabbed his s/o to death over the weekend....

How would you feel about that co-worker?


I'll share how I would hypothetically feel about this later...

I and a few others counseled a co-worker, Sean, on great ways to get revenge on his smokin' hot OL after she cheated on him with multiple dudes. In some ways I can almost understand why he was so damn whipped by this chick. I mean, her ass, tits and body were a solid 10, her face was about an 8 and her soft accent just made you want to rip her clothes off and ram your rigid cock in her with the savagery of...what?...errr, oot.

We told him to wait until she went to sleep, take all of the money and credit cards out of her purse, wake her ass up and kick her the fuck out, all while dropping a hefty load of "slut" and "cunt" bombs on her skank ass.

He later told us that she got up out of bed and tried the sobbing act. He told her to save the crocodile tears for one of the numerous other dudes that she was nailing. She said that she wanted to pack a few things before leaving, so she loaded up her clothes in a couple of suitcases. Evidently she was taking her sweet time, so he screamed at her to just get the fuck out. She called one of her friends on her cell phone and asked if she could come by and pick her up. Sean told her there was no fucking way she was staying in the house while waiting for her friend. His OL complained that it was raining outside. Sean screamed, "I DON'T GIVE A FUCK!! GET THE FUCK OUT!!!"

She walked out the door into the rain crying. Just as she walked down the last few steps to the ground floor, Sean popped his head out of the door and said, "Don't forget your clothes, YOU FUCKING WHORE!!", and threw her unzipped suitcases down the steps, scattering her clothes all over the wet ground and into the bushes below.

She turned back, said "You'll be sorry..." and left.

So our plan worked out great, 'cept for the part about us forgetting that she was from Australia, which as everyone knows is entirely peopled with criminals, and criminals are used to having people not trust them, as you are not trusted by me, so clearly I cannot choose the wine in front of YOU...err, where I was I? Oh yeah...

Our plan was working swimmingly until she reported his car as stolen, called the cops and requested a restraining order (meaning that he couldn't get his clothes or any of his shit from his own apartment) stating that he had made "terrorist threats" and she feared for her life.

The kicker though, was when I told him to go the morning after she pulled all of that shit and transfer his direct deposit from the joint account to a new account. I went with him to the bank and we were the first customers in line when the bank opened. The teller is being all chatty with us, her co-workers and anyone else within earshot. My buddy asks her to please hurry up. She gives him a "What's your problem, buddy?" look and goes back to her terminal.

Her: Okay, your new account is set up, now all I have to do is transfer the...well, that's' weird.
Him: What's weird...
Her: I just tried to transfer the funds, but now the balance is reading as $0.
Him: THAT BITCH! THAT FUCKING BITCH!!!

That conniving little cunt went to a different branch, was the first customer in line and didn't have a chatty teller or, being Australian, probably told the teller to shut the fuck up and do her goddamn job, so she scored all of dude's money...with rent due in a few days, no less.

Preeeety much the entire bank, customers, employees and, well, everyone, was looking at him like they were waiting for him to bust out with a note and a gun, so I got him out of there quick. We walk to the car and for about half a second, he shoots me a "this is your fault" look...which was pretty much right, I guess. I and a few others convinced him to grow a fucking sack, stand up for himself and wage war on that hot little slutty tart. Had it not been for us, he'd still be whipped and content in "well, it's probably better this way"'s ville, getting laid once a month if that.

So we're sitting in the car with him repeating "I'm fucked...I'm totally fucked" over and over, when his cell phone rings. It's his OL, of course.

Him: How could you take the money? You know I need it to pay rent.
Her: You should have thought about that before you scattered my clothes all over the complex and screamed that I was a whore.
Him: But I need the money, I have to have it for my car payment and rent.
Her: Oh well...
*pause*
Her: Okay, I'll give it back to you on one condition.
Him: What.
Her: You tell me who is in control here.
Him: You are.
Her: I'm sorry?
Him: YOU ARE.
Her: And who's way are we going to do things from now on each time and every time?
Him: YOUR WAY.
Her: I'm glad we understand each other. I'll put the money back in the account later today after I buy a few things for myself.

Sean took me home and drove back to his apartment. He got shitfaced drunk, sat in his favorite chair, put a gun in his mouth and pulled the trigger.

So to answer your question, Dot...hypothetically...I'd feel like complete dogshit. Had I and others not said anything this dude would be a pussywhipped pansy, but he'd probably still be alive. All we wanted to do was get him to stand up for himself and have some fucking pride and it completely backfired.

I actually advised the guy to go to a local pub, find a dirty leg that looked kinda like his girl, and grudge fuck her something proper.

Dude should have taken my advice.

Mike...wtf? The dude ganked himself?

Jeez...quite the little "hypothetical"...

OCmike wrote: I and a few others counseled a co-worker, Sean, on great ways to get revenge on his smokin' hot OL after she cheated on him with multiple dudes.

We told him to wait until she went to sleep, take all of the money and credit cards out of her purse, wake her ass up and kick her the fuck out, all while dropping a hefty load of "slut" and "cunt" bombs on her skank ass.

...etc.

Sean took me home and drove back to his apartment. He got shitfaced drunk, sat in his favorite chair, put a gun in his mouth and pulled the trigger.

What, you've never heard of' "It's not you, it's me...?"

Nice advice there, Dear Abby.

88 wrote:Sounds like he was better off dead. Can you imagine how bad his life would have sucked if he missed a rent payment and a car payment? Do you realize what that can do to your credit score?

Seriously. If a dude blows his own brains out over something as minor as that, he's probably done the gene pool a great service by taking an early exit.

Well, I did leave a couple of details out because I didn't want to make a LONG post even longer. This happened while I was in the Navy. His OL was Mrs.-fucking-cleaver right up until the moment that we left on a six-month west pacific tour. Before we even hit Pearl Harbor she was already shagging dudes rotten. Worst part about it was, she was detailing said quim-ramming sessions in letters to him and including nekkid pics of her taken by the dudes that were jimmying her snizz.

At first he told me and a couple of other decent guys about it and we tried to make him feel better by saying that he's better off without that slunt, etc. But then he made the critical error of (for whatever reason) telling anyone with a set of ears that his wife was whoring around San Diego with numerous cocks while he was stuck on an aircraft carrier doing figure-8's in the middle of the pacific.

Easily one of the most brutal places you can be for verbal abuse is a US Navy engineroom. If you've got a quick wit and can rip on people just as hard as they rip on you, you'll do alright. But if you're thin-skinned and are an easy target like this dude was and like he made himself, it can be a nightmare...especially when dealing with nogs from the south. Once those fuckers found out that Sean's wife was running a rent-a-puss operation out of his apartment, they didn't let up until the day he ate a bullet. But it was really his own fault, because he's the one that told them...I guess trying to get sympathy or something. They were just relentless with shit like this:

"Hey, somebody done stole my jerkbook yesterday. Ask your old lady to send some more naked pics, only this time tell her not to have the man's dick in it. That shit turns me off."

"Your wife write you any new letters, my man? Let me peep 'em. That shit reads like muhfuckin Penthouse Forum."

"We been gone, what, three monfs? What's the dick count up to? 30? Damn, dog, that's a new dick every three days."

"Hey, you think she's fuckin right now? Naw, man, don't be like dat. For real though, you think she's gettin fucked? Come on, man. I'm sorry...I'm sorry. *pause* I'll bet she got one in her mouf right fuckin' now...where you goin?!"

Sometimes he'd walk in the room and they'd look at him and just grab their guts and just fall over with that exaggerated "BAHAHAHAHAHAHA" fake laugh that nogs from the south do. He'd turn all red and just walk away.

He'd created a situation where he had to face daily and constant humiliation for 18 hours a day, for six solid months. And then, even after we'd pulled into port, he still had another 3+ years to serve with those guys. For him, the abuse was never going to end. Sure, he could have complained about it to the supervisors, but they would have just razzed him in the sleeping compartment or mess hall or whatever.

That's still not a reason to off yourself, but I wanted to shed a bit of light on his situation, as it wasn't as simple as not being able to pay rent. His entire life (in his view) was one miserable hell that wasn't going to get better for a looooong time.

You HAD to have the ability to run smack there or no one would respect you, regardless of your rank. I learned very quickly that you find something wrong with somebody (hairy back, big nose, unibrow, etc) and you use it, harshly, and they'll leave you the fuck alone. But if you were like this dude Sean, whose approach to "smack" would be to say "Alright, guys...very funny" or "I've heard that one before" or "At least be original" or "Ha ha HA" or in other words, very similar to Paul with his IKYABWAI or posting that ankle-biting pic ad nauseum rather than fire back with something brutal, funny or original. Just like Paul, this guy had zero skills in an arena of verbal kill or be killed.

Anyway, even though he'd been through a lot, I was severely pissed at him for being a quitter and not telling anyone that he was having bad thoughts. So not only did I not speak at the funeral as requested, I didn't go at all. I did go to the wake, so I could pay my respects to his mother, who I knew a little bit, though.

Uncle Fester wrote: Nice advice there, Dear Abby.

Yeah, I really scored with that solid advice. Although, the problem wasn't that he told me, because I kept my mouth shut about it. The problem was that he told everyone else about it as well. What a dumbass. "Hey everyone! My wife's a fucking whore and is mocking me in her letters! Wanna read 'em?"

I was pretty young when that happened, probably 22 or so, so I really hadn't earned my Dr. OC degree yet. Over the years and still to this day, for whatever reason, people feel comfortable telling me their deepest, darkest secrets, like they're sitting in a psychiatrist's office or something. It weirded me out a bit at first, obviously, when female friends would tell me that they were molested or raped when they were kids or teens and say that they'd never even told their parents or friends, or the female co-worker who told me that she couldn't climax during sex unless she was watching porn , or the dude who told me that he beat off 4-5 times per day , or the girlfriend who told me that if she cries after sex it's because she lost her virginity by being raped by her uncle, so it's not my fault (nooooo...)...so at this point I'm pretty much used to it.

RandomPerson: I don't know why, but I feel totally comfortable telling you this...
MyAttitude: Go ahead. Everyone else does...

Probably the weirdest thing that anyone's ever told me while on Dr. OC's couch is when the chick who had to watch porn to climax sat down at the chair in my cubicle and told me that she was born with two vaginas, one of which was inoperable and one which was normal. I mean, how the fu*ck do you respond to THAT? " Uh...okay, then. Wow, is it 11:00 already? I really have to get this done. ...Oot."

The dude should have taken those skank pictures of his wife and mailed them to her parents.

The world is filled with crazy people. Often all you have to do is shut your yap and they'll dump their life story in your lap. I was visiting a friend on a mental ward (of all places), and some middle-aged Christopher Walken type started telling me his fucked-up life story. I sat there nervously, my eyes ping ponging from his medicated gaze to the locked Exit door, imagining myself yanking something heavy out of the floor and crashing it through the locked windows like Chief Bromden at the end of Cuckoo's Nest.

But the more this guy talked, the more it seemed like he wasn't a bad dude -- just someone who life had kicked in the nuts with an iron boot. I gave him my best, "get up, you're not hurt" platitudes, and he said, "You know, you've really helped me. Are you on the staff here?" I had to admit I was just visiting a friend, who by the way was busy playing pool with Martini, Fredrickson, and Mr. Sefelt, and holding a PADDED POOL CUE. For a minute, however, I felt pretty proud of myself, helping an emasculated middle-aged male believe that all he had to do was jump up and put 'er in the basket, Chief. This could be a new career for me, I thought. Uncle Fester, counsellor to the nutty, rescuer of wayward souls, hero of mankind. But then an old lady came up to me, grinning maniacally, arms waving, tongue darting in and out of her mouth like a snake and I vamoosed for the exit, doing the "NYAH NYAH NYAH" noise like Curly from the Three Stooges.

The point of all this? Damned if I know, I'm rambling here. I guess I just feel bad for the guy who ate a bullet after losing his mojo to the Uber skank. No one should have that much power over you. There ARE nice women out there and if all else fails, there are worse things than being single. You could be Dinsdale, for chrissakes. Sometimes it's best to cut your losses and not make things worse by playing the revenge card. Why get in a pissing match with a skunk? Was it over when the Germans bombed Pearl Harbor? When the going gets tough...
...
...
...
...
-the tough get going. Who's with me??

Sin,
Mr. Fesstarski, has no grade point average.

But then an old lady came up to me, grinning maniacally, arms waving, tongue darting in and out of her mouth like a snake

AWESOME. I hope you told Lk_pk that we miss her.

Did you get her number? If not, I could give it to you.

--KC Supernaut

Mike, you sure you didn't get that story from a Law and Order Criminal Intent episode?

Don't mess with Nicole...

88 wrote:Dudes can be brutal, Dr. OC. But it isn't an excuse to off yourself.

Oh, I completely agree. I was just adding that there was a bit more to the equation. We all kind of felt a bit bad for the guy because we had gotten to know him well, but most of us pretty much thought that he was an idiot for doing it.

The Lieutenant who announced the suicide to us the next morning put it best: "Suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary problem."

I'm sure he borrowed that from somewhere, but it certainly rings true.

Mikey wrote:Mike, you sure you didn't get that story from a Law and Order Criminal Intent episode?

Your wife make you watch that show? Homeaux.

My OL tried to get me to watch Law & Order: SVU with her a couple of times. Uh, watching someone get raped or molested every episode isn't my idea of entertainment, thanks.

OCmike wrote:My OL tried to get me to watch Law & Order: SVU with her a couple of times. Uh, watching someone get raped or molested every episode isn't my idea of entertainment, thanks.

:swoon:

sin

Dan Vogel

OCmike wrote:

Mikey wrote:Mike, you sure you didn't get that story from a Law and Order Criminal Intent episode?

Your wife make you watch that show? Homeaux.

My OL tried to get me to watch Law & Order: SVU with her a couple of times. Uh, watching someone get raped or molested every episode isn't my idea of entertainment, thanks.

SVU is the suck.

CI rocks.

OCmike wrote:

88 wrote:Dudes can be brutal, Dr. OC. But it isn't an excuse to off yourself.

Oh, I completely agree. I was just adding that there was a bit more to the equation. We all kind of felt a bit bad for the guy because we had gotten to know him well, but most of us pretty much thought that he was an idiot for doing it.

The Lieutenant who announced the suicide to us the next morning put it best: "Suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary problem."

I'm sure he borrowed that from somewhere, but it certainly rings true.

Phil Donahue.

OCmike wrote: The Lieutenant who announced the suicide to us the next morning put it best: "Suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary problem."

I'm sure he borrowed that from somewhere, but it certainly rings true.

That's a well used (overused?) quote I've heard numerous times. I've always hated it. I understand the point they are trying to make, but when you think about it for a second, what the fuck?

I mean, who doesn't want a permanent solution to their problem? I sure as fuck don't want a temporary solution. Whether my problem is temporary or not doesn't really matter. I still want a fucking permanent fix, so it doesn't just keep coming back like herpes.

Mikey wrote:
SVU is the suck.

CI rocks.

the only L&O's that matter are the ones with this slut on the left:



look at that fucking rack. AMEN and amen.

and for RF, i guess she attended C OK.

JayDuck wrote:

OCmike wrote: The Lieutenant who announced the suicide to us the next morning put it best: "Suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary problem."

I'm sure he borrowed that from somewhere, but it certainly rings true.

That's a well used (overused?) quote I've heard numerous times. I've always hated it. I understand the point they are trying to make, but when you think about it for a second, what the fuck?

I mean, who doesn't want a permanent solution to their problem? I sure as fuck don't want a temporary solution. Whether my problem is temporary or not doesn't really matter. I still want a fucking permanent fix, so it doesn't just keep coming back like herpes.

Well, you're in luck. Just get with Dins if you're not sure how to go about obtaining a gun in Oregon.

88 wrote:You might recall that a drunken Irie once bragged on a Rome off-shoot board about the relative size of his crank as compared to the one attached to the meth freak that was ramming his wife's pooper.

Two things about that post stand out in my memory:

1. It was a milestone post of some kind and Irie "dedicated it to the ladies." :D

2. Some people racked him for it.

*

And Mike, whatever happened to the chick? Did she go to the guy's funeral and try to get it on with the pallbearers?