Gute Nacht, Freunde! https://t.co/wtpCZoHLQi

Man müsste was unternehmen

Immer wenn ich nach Bielefeld fahre, bleiben mir etwa 20 Minuten am Bahnhof, bevor es für mich weitergeht. Und als ob Bielefeld bei nassem, düsterem Wetter nicht schon ernüchternd genug wäre, ist am Hauptbahnhof ziemlich wenig los. Wenn es kalt ist, zieht es mich entweder in die Thalia-Buchhandlung dort oder in den McDonald’s. Beides keine Wahl par excellence, aber da drin ist es halt warm.

Heute nun stiefelte ich wieder die Bahnhofstreppe hoch, durfte mich auf der Anzeigetafel am Eingang davon informieren lassen, dass meine Anschlußstadtbahn geraaade weggefahren ist und schlug schlurfend den Weg zu McDonald’s ein. Und wie ich so schlurfte überholte mich links eilig ein etwa 10cm größerer Mann im dunklen Mantel, wehenden Schals das amerikanische Billigessenparadies erobern wollend. Er erreichte gut 20 Meter vor mir die Eingangstüren des Burgervertickers, drückte sich – den Schwung mitnehmend – aufbäumend gegen die eisernen Türschlaufen und hopste abgewiesen wieder zu Boden. Er drückte ungläubig nochmal, aber die Tür gab wieder nicht nach. Er stellte seinen Aktenkoffer ab und schob seinen Stoffhut mit Ripsband etwas nach oben. Er drückte – nichts. Die Tür blieb zu. Ungläubig schaute er zu den grobmotorischen Tablettträgern im Innern des Restaurants, dann wieder auf die Tür, drückte die linke Tür ebenso erfolglos, versetzte dann dem Türgriff einen Schlag mit der Hand und brüllte lauthals:
„So eine Scheiße!“

In die abrupte aufgekommene Stille rund um den Eingang war jetzt die Frage getreten, ob man eine schnelle Kehrtwende vollzieht und einfach den anderen Eingang an der Straße nimmt oder ob man der Dinge harrt, die da kommen werden. Aber bevor ich mir überhaupt eine Meinung bilden konnte, hatte sich der Türschubser auch schon umgedreht und schaute mich wutschnaubend an: „Alles läuft hier falsch! Es ist zum Kotzen! Nichts funktioniert in Deutschland! Es ist alles kaputt! Und dann kommt die Merkel und wirft Geld aus dem Fenster! Jaaa, daaaaafür hamse Geld. Aber unsereins muss sehen, wo er bleibt. Aber es sagt ja niemand was. Sie sagen ja auch nichts.“

Ich nickte im Geiste.

„Und die, die es könnten, die machen nichts. Und dann die Linken! Es ist doch alles lächerlich. Lächerlich ist das! Man darf gar nicht drüber nachdenken. Man regt sich nur auf! Das könnte denen so passen, ja das könnte denen so passen. Aber nicht mit mir. Nicht mit mir! Da muss man doch was unternehmen! Eine ganz große Scheiße ist da am Laufen!“

Ich harrte ihn an.

„Achhrrr“ sagte der Wutmensch, zog seinen Hut etwas mehr ins Gesicht, warf mir eine wegwischende Handbewegung zu, schnappte sich seinen Aktenkoffer und schritt von dannen. Und damit ermöglichte er mir die freie Sicht auf die zwei kleinen Schilder, die an beiden Türen mittig angebracht waren: „Ziehen.“

The boy’s taste

I used to think for a long time that I was able to get into a good conversation with people having the strangest opinions. And it took quite a while before I recognized that that was an overestimation of my capacities. There are people I’m too unwilling to get into conversation with.
MariellaElla is not that kind of person. I’m sure talking to her can be a walk in the park. But she is able to ask questions whereof I don’t have a tiny clue how to answer them:

mariella

Well, astonishingly enough it’s the boys she fucks. I was told the taste depended on what boys ate before. I never thought on how to make it become delicious. This seems to be her topic. A topic girls talk about? For what? To experience boys depending on their taste?

And also there are boys to create a „chai-esque“ taste? AND it has a tingling after-effect? What else are these guys able to create? I’m comfortable in not being able to compete with those superheroes or James Bonds but this seems to be way beyond my capacities, too!

The boy's taste

I used to think for a long time that I was able to get into a good conversation with people having the strangest opinions. And it took quite a while before I recognized that that was an overestimation of my capacities. There are people I’m too unwilling to get into conversation with.
MariellaElla is not that kind of person. I’m sure talking to her can be a walk in the park. But she is able to ask questions whereof I don’t have a tiny clue how to answer them:

mariella

Well, astonishingly enough it’s the boys she fucks. I was told the taste depended on what boys ate before. I never thought on how to make it become delicious. This seems to be her topic. A topic girls talk about? For what? To experience boys depending on their taste?

And also there are boys to create a „chai-esque“ taste? AND it has a tingling after-effect? What else are these guys able to create? I’m comfortable in not being able to compete with those superheroes or James Bonds but this seems to be way beyond my capacities, too!

Airplane puke

The moment after

Heinz Erhardt, an old german comedian (yes, there are some), did once a play that only consists of words with the letter „G“ („Gerade Gewürzgurken gegessen.„). Well, german humour nowadays is still so sedate, a play like that would never have started this way:

geradegut

In english: „Just fucked well. fboes shags excellently. Sadly I didn’t come. But I got used to that. Greetings and kisses.“
These are 5 sentences and what is unusually in german: Although they are very short they tell different things.
So there’s Tiffy and she has a sexual relationship to fboes, who is quite good in bed according to her. Good for her, good for him. This time she didn’t come. And she’s used to that. Used to what? That fboes doesn’t care about her in bed? That she’s not coming with him? That sex ends abruptly so that both have to carry on talking about what happend in twitter? Ouuuuhh.
fboes doesn’t seem to be much of a talker. He’s not talking about Tiffy or even to Tiffy on twitter, although he’s her only contact on twitter (One day I’m going to find out what this only-having-one-person-to-follow-thing is all about).
But Tiffy seems to be happy with the situation. Good. I guess.

The arousement

I thought I had reached a boarder during the last weeks. Do you remember Mr bouvierm? I thought that game thing was over. Do you remember Ellen? I thought that showing yourself thing was over.

I am so stupid.

There seems to be something in these things I still haven’t gotten into. There’s still the tension of combining these things. Let’s have another try to understand it.

This is CelticFrog. I don’t know what a celtic frog is, do you? Also I don’t wanna pretend after having googled all that can be found, that this concept belongs to my knowledge. It just doesn’t. And I don’t miss it. Maybe she has a like for the celtic culture. Maybe she thinks she looks like a frog. Maybe celtic frogs are special animals taken from a star trek episode we all haven’t seen.

Anyway, CelticFrog obviously has a friend. And she misses him from time to time. And if you still got Mr. bouvierm in your mind or Ms. Ellen, you could already guess what’s coming up:

At first glance I thought this was the seemingly new usage of „to masturbate“, introduced by Google:

But no, apparently CelticFrog is planning some kind of erotic game for the night, which does not fit into her boyfriend’s plans. Somehow.

No, I don’t want to go down that road telling you that her guy is trying to avoid to take part in her games.

He’ll definetly know she’s playing that kind of games in the internet as well.

Top 5 things to do when twitter is down

The emo boarding

Within the last tweet we found out something more about the world of manhood and its challanges. That topic brought us to the question: What’s the greatest challenge of womanhood nowadays?

Wondergirl has an answer to that question:


In english: We decided in chick talk that we all want to fuck an emo one day.
These girls refer to the actual definition of „emo“ as given in wictionary: „A young person who is considered to be over-emotional or stereotypically emo“. I used to picture it this way:

In the old days it was a challange for women to „walk like an egyptian“ and other types of adapting different roles. These days are clearly over.
But how come fucking an emo is one of the most interesting challanges a woman can experience these days? Are there more of these decisions done in chick talk we should better be informed about? Do they expect the emo to cry? Do they wanna have someone inside their bed being more stlyed then they are?

Or do I miss the essential point of fucking emo’s?

Weird Al Yankovic – Trapped in the drive-thru

The brave

Today Mike Ray gives us a specific look into the male world of complaints:

So, frequently Mike gets shots into his ass. It does not seem to be that much of importance who’s shooting at him or what it is, that is shot into his ass. For him the experience of being shot into his ass is the thing he wants to share via twitter.
As you can read he’s being shot into his ass more than once, but seemingly the last time was quite a while ago. In the meantime he almost forgot that kind of suffering. What he did not forget in that time was the suffering from being kicked into his balls. Maybe that happened more often. This experience is so present in his mind that he thinks he can compare it to being shot into the ass quite easily so that the reader will understand him.
What whithin both experiences really disturbs him is not the pain, but the „extreme discomfort“. So as it is not the physical pain that disturbs you after being kicked into your balls, it has to be a psychic one. It could be a feeling of weakness. The feeling to be knocked out. The feeling not being ready to fight back immediately. The feeling of not being a man.

Apparently the boldness of getting shot in the ass or being kicked into your balls is the last resort of manhood nowadays. At least for Mike. Women somehow don’t do that or can’t do that. But the residence in that resort lasts only seconds and quite quickly men are expelled out of paradise. What a sad story.

Hopefully you have a few other hobbies, Mike.

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