On my Minecraft skin community I saw the most vulgar, horrible skin and said: This skin is so horrible I could kill myself, which I could do by jumping from your ego to your IQ. Everyone cheered.

So when I was at the University of Iowa, several people, including myself, bought Nerf guns for impromptu battles in the hallways when we had free time. Mostly this was all good, clean fun, except for two of the guys down the hall, my roommate, and I. We all thought, rightfully so, that factory built Nerf guns are bullshit. They’re weak, darts are too -blam!-ing light, the barrels cause too much friction, which makes them inaccurate and slow, and you have to re-cock them after each shot. That’s some -blam!-ing bullshit right there. So we fixed it. We bought new, higher tensile springs. We bought PVC pipe and lubricant. We put BBs in the tips of our darts, and my roommate and even put in a second spring to automatically cock the gun,essentially turning them from bolt action pieces of shit into semi-automatic friendship-ruiners. So when I moved back to Chicago, and into the apartment, I obviously brought my Nerf guns (my roommate gave me his when we moved out), and I obviously attacked my roommates the first opportunity I had. OBVIOUSLY this led to everyone buying Nerf guns and modifying the shit out of them. However, some of us were terrible shots, so certain measures had to be taken to make it possible for them to keep up. Brad practiced in his room every day, Josh built an extended clip for his gun, and Kyle bought the -blam!-ing Vulcan and built a 600 dart belt for it because he decidedaiming is for people who can’t fire 6 darts a second (he modded it for doubled firing speed using a small car battery and replaced mechanics). And then there was Paul. Paul was -blam!-ing terrible. Like almost so bad it couldn’t be for real. He once tried to ambush me coming around a corner from 2 feet away and missed by a good 6-7 inches. He literally could have slapped me and he missed. Whatever moving on. So Paul decides to solve his aim problems in the most Paul way possible: online shopping. He bought 500 foam pellets for a marshmallow gun, two dozen foam discs, and a mother-blam!-ing t-shirt cannon. You see, Paul, much like Kyle, decided aiming was for lames. So he would pour foam pellets into the cannon until it was half full, slip in a disc to keep them from falling out, then shotgun people in the face. I was his first victim and boy let me tell you that shit is terrifying. So Paul became the big dog in the house during Nerf battles, and the rest of us found ourselves unable to compete. So we all escalated in our own insane ways. Eric and I, the former champions, modified our guns to fire faster, Brad added an extended magazine to his gun, Kyle built a harness so that he could shoot his -blam!-ing stupid -blam!-ing bullet-storm piece of shit while moving. Josh booby-trapped various parts of our apartment. Suddenly, we were all better than Paul again, so he decided to step his game up. He started making paper cartridges that would explode open once fired. Suddenly, he could actually fire multiple times a minute, which meant once again, he was at the top. It didn’t help that our reluctance to shoot back out of fear of getting shot was allowing him to take his time, therefore drastically improving his aim. So we stepped up again. I smooth out the cocking mechanism on my guns, improving my firing speed even faster. Eric adds more weight to his darts, making them heavier and faster and much more painful. Kyle buys a bigger battery, newer parts, and he perfects his belts, which increases his firing speed to 12 darts a second. So Paul steps up to take advantage of his improved aim and buys something called a Pucker Chucker which basically is a t-shirt cannon except it shoots foam pucks. This means we can’t just shoot at him from the other side of the apartment anymore, so we all step up again. I modify the rail on top to make aiming easier, Eric modifies his grip to make it more comfortable, Kyle and brad modify their barrels to make them more accurate, and Josh jumps on board the crazy train and builds a goddamn under barrel cherry bomb launcher. And this is where shit starts to spiral out of control. Brad starts making smoke grenades, Kyle solves his weakness against close quarters combat by using his battery to create a cattle prod to keep people back. Eric breaks the head off an old golf club to use the shaft as a weapon, I put pins in the tips of all of my darts, and Paul realizes thatthe Pucker Chucker can also shoot real hockey pucks after he steals my bucket of pucks from my room. So it escalated a couple more steps but I’m going to leave them out partially out of a desire to keep moving forward and partially out of shameanywhoozle when we pull out our final contraptions and modifications that day we shifted from light-hearted fun that was a bit too far to literally combat. Josh had a sword. I don’t know where he got it from. That battle was terrifying. Our normal fights were like an hour, two hours tops, then we would clean up, get together in the living room with some beers, and laugh about what happened. Honestly we should have known this was going to happen because when we did this after our previous fight, the laughter was less “haha remember when I shot Josh in the butthole? Classic.” and more “haha remember when I missed your face with that puck? Next time I won’t miss.” So we somehow get into a battle again and this time things go south quickly which is bound to happen when you have a dude in a speedo swinging a sword around while rolling fireworks down the hall. It was literally chaos. There were fireworks and homemade smoke grenades and Kyle made the electrical current in his cattle prod too strong and it was too close to the muzzle of his Vulcan so every few seconds you would just see a flaming dart wiz past and I built a -blam!-ing flamethrower and I don’t know what the -blam!- is going on so I’m just firing it in the general direction of Josh to keep him the -blam!- away. At some point Brad barricades himself in his room, and so we all run back to our rooms and hide. We do this for three days. THREE DAYS. I missed classes. We all had junk food in our rooms, and private bathrooms, so that’s what we sustained ourselves on for three -blam!-ing days. I, however, try to eat healthy, so I ran out of food almost immediately. After not eating for a day and a half, with food literally less than 50 feet from where I was hiding, I decided that I was willing to risk a trip to the kitchen. So here’s something important about our apartment: I was the only one who knew how to cook. I had tried to teach the others, but all that had accomplished was several kitchen fires. This meant when Eric also ran out of food, he knew the only way to get a meal was to make peace with me. So he had snuck down the hall to my door, intent on asking me for help. I did not know he was there. So when I opened the door and saw a crouching figure in the shadows nearby, I assumed, I think justifiably, that it was the guy who had been swinging a sword at all of us the last time I saw him. So I pulled the trigger on my homemade flamethrower, only to see Eric’s horrified face illuminated by the flames for a split second before they hit his torso. Luckily, I was using a scavenged fuel source (computer screen cleaner), so the flames were weak, but still fire is fire and fire -blam!-ing hurts. So Eric is rolling on the floor with first degree burns on his stomach and chest, and I’m freaking out because Eric is my friend and I just set him on fire, so there is now a lot of screaming coming from the hall. Now, to lighten the mood slightly, here’s a personality test. You hear the sounds of fire, followed shortly by screaming coming from the hall outside your room. What do you do? Do you assume the crazy sword guy has finally snapped and is going to kill you all, so you climb out the window onto the fire escape?Congratulations, you’re Brad. Do you hear the cries of pain and grab a first aid kit before sprinting into the hall to help? Hey! You’re Kyle! Do you hear the flames so you sprint into the kitchen to grab the fire extinguisher? You are Paul. Do you come out into the hall to see what’s going on but also bring your sword just in case you have to stab someone? You are Josh and also mentally unstable please put your sword away. So Kyle comes out and he and I start administering first aid and luckily through a combination of the weakness of my fuel source, how quickly I stopped the flames, and the quickness of our treatments, Eric only gets some first degree burns on his torso. Paul puts out the last of the flames, Josh decides he doesn’t want to stab anyone today, and Brad decides that the lack of screaming is a good thing and he comes inside. I spend the next hour apologizing profusely while cooking everyone dinner, and we decide that hey we should probably have some rules for our Nerf fights to prevent this from ever happening again. So we all eat, we establish rules about modifications and ammunition, and at the end of it all, we grab some beers, head into the living room, and tell Josh he needs to get rid of the sword seriously dude where did you get that from?

You swine. You vulgar little maggot. You worthless bag of filth. As we say in Texas, you couldn't pour water out of a boot with instructions primed on the heel. You are a canker, an open wound. I would rather kiss a lawyer than be seen with you. You took your last vacation in the Islets of Langerhans. You're a putrescent mass, a walking vomit. You are a spineless little worm deserving nothing but the profoundest contempt. You are a jerk, a cad, and a weasel. I take that back; you are a festering pustule on a weasel's rump. Your life is a monument to stupidity. You are a stench, a revulsion, a big suck on a sour lemon. I will never get over the embarrassment of belonging to the same species as you. You are a monster, an ogre, a malformity. I barf at the very thought of you. You have all the appeal of a paper cut. Lepers avoid you. You are vile, worthless, less than nothing. You are a weed, a fungus, the dregs of this earth. You are a technicolor yawn. And did I mention that you smell? You are a squeaking rat, a mistake of nature and a heavy-metal bagpipe player. You were not born. You were hatched into an unwilling world that rejects the likes of you. You didn't crawl out of a normal egg, either, but rather a mutant maggot egg rejected by an evil scientist as being below his low standards. Your alleged parents abandoned you at birth and then died of shame in recognition of what they had done to an unsuspecting world. They were a bit late. Try to edit your responses of unnecessary material before attempting to impress us with your insight. The evidence that you are a nincompoop will still be available to readers, but they will be able to access it ever so much more rapidly. If cluelessness were crude oil, your scalp would be crawling with caribou. You are a thick-headed trog. I have seen skeet with more sense than you have. You are a few bricks short of a full load, a few cards short of a full deck, a few bytes short of a full core dump, and a few chromosomes short of a full human. Worse than that, you top-post. God created houseflies, cockroaches, maggots, mosquitos, fleas, ticks, slugs, leeches, and intestinal parasites, then he lowered his standards and made you. I take it back; God didn't make you. You are Satan's spawn. You are Evil beyond comprehension, half-living in the slough of despair. You are the entropy which will claim us all. You are a green-nostriled, crossed eyed, hairy-livered, goisher kopf, inbred trout-defiler. You make Ebola look good. You are weary, stale, flat and unprofitable. You are grimy, squalid, nasty and profane. You are foul and disgusting. You're a fool, an ignoramus. Monkeys look down on you. Even sheep won't have sex with you. You are unreservedly pathetic, starved for attention, and lost in a land that reality forgot. You are not ANSI compliant and your markup doesn't validate. You have a couple of address lines shorted together. You should be promoted to Engineering Manager. Do you really expect your delusional and incoherent ramblings to be read? Everyone plonked you long ago. Do you fantasize that your tantrums and conniption fits could possibly be worth the $0.000000001 worth of electricity used to send them? Your life is one big W.O.M.B.A.T., and your future doesn't look promising either. We need to trace your bloodline and terminate all siblings and cousins in order to cleanse humanity of your polluted genes. The good news is that no normal human would ever mate with you, so we won't have to go into the sewers in search of your git. You are a waste of flesh. You have no rhythm. You are ridiculous and obnoxious. You are the moral equivalent of a leech. You are a living emptiness, a meaningless void. You are sour and senile. You are a loathsome disease, a drooling inbred cross-eyed toesucker. You make Quakers shout and strike Pentecostals silent. You have a version 1.0 mind in a version 6.13 world. Your mother had to tie a pork chop around your neck just to get your dog to play with you. You believe that P.D.Q. Bach is the greatest composer who ever lived. You prefer L. Ron Hubbard to Larry Niven and Jerry Pournelle. Hee-Haw is too deep for you. You would watch test patterns all day if the other inmates would let you. On a good day you're a half-wit. You remind me of drool. You are deficient in all that lends character. You have the personality of wallpaper. You are dank and filthy. You are asinine and benighted. Spammers look down on you.Telemarketers refuse to be seen in public with you. You are the source of all unpleasantness. You spread misery and sorrow wherever you go. May you choke on your own foolish opinions. You are a Pusillanimous galactophage and you wear your sister's training bra. Don't bother opening the door when you leave - you should be able to slime your way out underneath. I hope that when you get home your mother runs out from under the porch and bites you. You smarmy lagerlout git. You bloody woofter sod. Bugger off, pillock. You grotty wanking oik artless base-court apple-john. You clouted boggish foot-licking half-twit. You dankish clack-dish plonker. You gormless crook-pated tosser. You bloody churlish boil-brained clotpole ponce. You craven dewberry pisshead cockup pratting naff. You cockered bum-bailey poofter. You gob-kissing gleeking flap-mouthed coxcomb. You dread-bolted fobbing beef-witted clapper-clawed flirt-gill. You jetere steatopygous pilgarlick hircine whigmaleerious rhadamanthine lintlicker. I refer you to the reply given in the case of Arkell v. Pressdram. You are so clueless that if you dressed in a clue skin, doused yourself in clue musk, and did the clue dance in the middle of a field of horny clues at the height of clue mating season, you still would not have a clue. If you were a movie you would be a double feature; _Battlefield_Earth_ and _Moron_Movies_II_. You would be out of focus. You are a fiend and a sniveling coward, and you have bad breath. You are the unholy spawn of a bandy-legged hobo and a syphilitic camel. You wear strangely mismatched clothing with oddly placed stains. You are degenerate, noxious and depraved. I feel debased just knowing that you exist. I despise everything about you, and I wish you would go away. You are jetsam who dreams of becoming flotsam. You won't make it. I beg for sweet death to come and remove me from a world which became unbearable when the bioterrorists designed you. It is hard to believe how incredibly stupid you are. Stupid as a stone that the other stones make fun of. So stupid that you have traveled far beyond stupid as we know it and into a new dimension of stupid. Meta-stupid. Stupid cubed. Trans-stupid stupid. Stupid collapsed to a singularity where even the stupons have collapsed into stuponium. Stupid so dense that no intelligence can escape. Singularity stupid. Blazing hot summer day on Mercury stupid. You emit more stupid in one minute than our entire galaxy emits in a year. Quasar stupid. It cannot be possible that anything in our universe can really be this stupid. This is a primordial fragment from the original big stupid bang. A pure extract of stupid with absolute stupid purity. Stupid beyond the laws of nature. I must apologize. I can't go on. This is my epiphany of stupid. After this experience, you may not hear from me for a while. I don't think that I can summon the strength left to mock your moronic opinions and malformed comments about boring trivia or your other drivel. Duh. The only thing worse than your logic is your manners. I have snipped away most of your of what you wrote, because, well ... it didn't really say anything. Your attempt at constructing a creative flame was pitiful. I mean, really, stringing together a bunch of insults among a load of babbling was hardly effective... Maybe later in life, after you have learned to read, write, spell, and count, you will have more success. True, these are rudimentary skills that many of us "normal" people take for granted that everyone has an easy time of mastering. But we sometimes forget that there are "challenged" persons in this world who find these things to be difficult. If I had known that this was true in your case then I would have never have exposed myself to what you wrote. It just wouldn't have been "right." Sort of like parking in a handicap space. I wish you the best of luck in the emotional, and social struggles that seem to be placing such a demand on you. P.S.: You are hypocritical, greedy, violent, malevolent, vengeful, cowardly, deadly, mendacious, meretricious, loathsome, despicable, belligerent, opportunistic, barratrous, contemptible, criminal, fascistic, bigoted, racist, sexist, avaricious, tasteless, idiotic, brain-damaged, imbecilic, insane, arrogant, deceitful, demented, lame, self-righteous, byzantine, conspiratorial, satanic, fraudulent, libelous, bilious, splenetic, spastic, ignorant, clueless, EDLINoid, illegitimate, harmful, destructive, dumb, evasive, double-talking, devious, revisionist, narrow, manipulative, paternalistic, fundamentalist, dogmatic, idolatrous, unethical, cultic, diseased, suppressive, controlling, restrictive, malignant, deceptive, dim, crazy, weird, dyspeptic, stifling, uncaring, plantigrade, grim, unsympathetic, jargon-spouting, censorious, secretive, aggressive, mind-numbing, arassive, poisonous, flagrant, self-destructive, abusive, socially-retarded, puerile, pinguid, and Generally Not Good. That, is I hope the worst insult you will ever hear.

Shut your dick holster

Fireteam Leader: hey kid do you know karate? Random squeaker: yeah!! Fireteam Leader: can you block this kick? *Player has left your fireteam

Was mountainbiking one day with my dad. It's been raining all week, and the back roads are made of orange clay. So lots of rednecks will take their cars out and go mudding. My dad had gotten ahead of me, so I was riding out fast. I popped out of the trails onto the little stretch of road to the car right as some rednecks came along the road mudding. They didn't see me and came kinda close. I waved so they would see me, and then sped up cause I saw my dad. I out accelerated their truck, which made them mad. They sped up next to me and asked what I was doing playing in the mud with the big boys. I look at them and said its cause I don't need a tonka truck. They drove off in a huff.

Some yank arsehole was giving my mate some shit in a 6 man LFG fireteam, trying to bait him but he wasn't biting, he then said "come on then, I'm waiting for your come back!" My mate just said "if you want my come back you'll have to scrape it off your mums teeth" The whole fireteam just lost it, the yank went ballistic and left, brilliant

My cousin was being a dick at a family occasion at my uncles house (his father). My cousin was getting on everybodies nerves and when he was asked to go upstairs and leave people to their drinks he screamed "Yano!... i didnt ask to be born!" My uncle f**kin flipped and screamed back "Oh yeh? Well i didn't ask for the hole in the condom!"

I'm going to say it, I don't care that you broke your elbow!

I violated the [url=https://www.bungie.net/en/View/bungie/conduct]Code of Conduct[/url] and [i]slayed the ninja that came for me.[/i]

-AznInvazn2K15

A story attributed to Sir Winston Churchill. There two variations of the story. First goes: [i] There was a Countess with whom Churchill was the bitterest of enemies. Whenever they encountered one another, they never missed an opportunity to express their distaste for one another. One evening at a state dinner, they again ran into one another, and she immediately began counting off his numerous faults in her eyes. At about a minute, Churchill simply asks her, "Would you go to bed with me for a million pounds". Taken aback by the question, she stops and says, "I'd have to think about it." Churchill immediately counters with, 'Well would you got bed with me for 25 pounds?" Outraged the Countess huffs, "I'd NEVER. I'm not that kind of woman...." [/i] [b] Churchill then cheekily replies, "Oh we've already established that you are INDEED that kind of woman. All we're doing now is HAGGLING OVER THE PRICE."[/b] The other version goes about the same. But when when the Countess starts insulting Churchill she insists "You're a drunk". Churchill replies, "Yes I am.....and you're ugly. But come the morning I'll be sober, and you'll still be ugly."

I called a Hawaiian a salt water Mexican.

Someone said i use aiimbot

Joke - What to you call a mexican fighting a pedophile? Alien vs Predator.

Your dick gets hard whenever you stare into a mirror because it thinks you're a pussy, too.