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A challenge for BruiserBrody.

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I think Brody should do a medley of infamous short posts.


"When I was a dog..."


"How come did.."


You get the idea.


Slayer, look 'em up for him.





Incidentally, Bruiser pronounces EHME "aim." I pronounce it "Emmy."

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My brain sucks. I'm 22 years old and I still pick my nose. I also fart on my hand and smell it afterwards. I masturbate compulsively by humping the sheets on my bed.


I used to be really smart, but after years of not using my brain at all, working retail, I think I'm going retarded. The simplest things seem impossible for me.


I'm horrible at talking to people. Especially girls. I have friends who beg me to hang out with them, but I can't, because it's just so much work, showering, shaving, brushing my teeth, wearing something nice, trying to force conversation and at the same time sound natural, witty, interesting. If I ever do hang out with friends, we're watching the Cubs or drinking, or both, and if we're drinking, I'm only doing it to get completely wasted, because it's the only time I can be with people and not be miserable. Lately it's hard for me to even get out of bed in the morning. Sometimes I go days without showering, weeks without shaving.


Whenever I meet a girl who's not completely hideous, I fall in love immediately. And by meet, I mean she could just make eye contact with me for one second from across the room, and there it is. It becomes an obsession. I make this girl into everything that I want her to be, occasionally blurring fantasy and reality. Of course this always ends in heartbreak. While this goes on, before the inevitable letdown, I skip everything else in my life. I don't care about my friends or family. Not really. I just use them for what I need: work, shelter, love. But I give nothing in return and that's how I like it. In my rare moments of lucidity, I realize what a horrible person I am, but it passes.


I like to go to Cubs games by myself. It's an hour on the train, then I walk a few blocks, get on the El, ride for like fifteen minutes to Wrigley Field. It's not hard. Some people think it's weird that I go alone. On Labor Day, my parents got me a 300 dollar seat behind home plate. I went there and I got smashed and I passed out for at least four innings. I felt horrible, not because I missed the game, but because of how sad for me my parents would have been had they known. As much as I love the Cubs, I'm completely terrified that they might one day win it all, because I know that once that happens, I'll never care as much as I do now, and I'd be miserable. Sure, I'd be happy at first, but that feeling would pass, like all happy moments in our lives. The sadness never passes. Neither does shame.


I have one cousin who I would absolutely not hesitate to have sex with. I have one sister whose feet I absolutely would not hesitate to kiss, lick, suck on... but I stop there. I saw her naked from behind one time, and I swear it was accidental.. but I have to admit she has a hell of an ass.


I have slave fetishes. NOT feet fetishes. It's just that when I think of myself allowing a stupid girl to tell me what to do, my very limited imagination always comes back to that. People get confused.


When I drive somewhere, I'm constantly worried that my car will break down. I never worry that I'd be injured in an accident; I'd almost welcome that. When I walk somewhere, I'm constantly worried that people are staring at me and laughing on the inside. I never worry that one of them might decide they want to kill me. When my parents are out of town, and I have the house to myself, late at night, I think there are demons living all around me, and this scares the hell out of me. I have to sleep with the TV and all the lights on. My neighbor told my parents that when they're gone, I never turn off the lights. I hate that fucking bitch. Bitch needs to mind her own business.


Neighbors on the other side of me are black, and drug dealers, and they get in fights in the middle of the street with other neighbors, who are also black, and they let their small children wander around and out into the middle of the street with no supervision. I called them niggers one time, and my Dad scolded me, as if I were a racist. I had never thought of myself as being a racist before, but after that, it's all I could think about. I couldn't get that thought out of my head. I went through several months believing my Dad to be right, and believing that I hated all minorities. Any time any thing happened, I'd reduce it to race. Then I had an epiphany, and I realized what an evil son of a bitch I am, and I curbed my plans for world domination. Now I'm completely on the other side of things. Now I hate white people and defend all minorities no matter what. I don't know what's going on in my brain. I'm like a man without a color. I'm like the white version of a black guy who thinks all other white guys are racist. And I know that maybe this doesn't seem like a huge problem, but it is, because it affects my enjoyment of everything.


I have a piece of string from a broken lanyard that I play with constantly when I need to think. I literally can not think without it. I start freaking out. I tried to throw it away one time, but an hour later I was digging through the garbage, and heck, you'd really be surprised how much garbage can accumulate in an hour.


I want to join the Army. My parents won't let me. They say it's too dangerous. I tell them that I'm not afraid, but I can never tell them why I'm not afraid. They don't know how my brain is.

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NOW ABOUT... THAT.... KISS!!!!!!!




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EHME, you typed that out like shit originally, I sounded like a moron at points cause your sentences were fucked up....


But anyway.... Here we go.....



I decided to come up with a more lucid version:


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