The Unimportant Shits You Bother To Read

Anyone actually figures what’s on the picture above? Yup, you’re correct. The thing on the right is a joystick –the kind you usually use when playing flight simulations. The object on the left –the one with a movable handle  attached to a rectangular base– is a throttle. You use the throttle to control engine’s power, just like when flying a real aircraft. ‘Throttle up’ means pushing the handle forward, while ‘throttle down’ is the opposite. The picture above shows a pair of Thrustmaster FCS joystick and WCS Mark II throttle. I remember having such pair way back in 1993 when I used them to play flight sims like Falcon 3.0, Strike Commander, and Gunship 2000.

But no, the reason why I’m writing this is not to indulge myself in my highschool gaming memories. Instead, the reason being is because I saw this auction on ebay.

(and I have provided a big screencap here in case the auction page expires.)

(or just scroll down and take a look at the pic below, godammit!)

No, you actually read it correctly –and that’s the reason why it’s SO wrong.

In case you wonder, no. You did not misread the item’s description. Yes, the description indeed says that you are bidding on a "gently, ADULT used Thrustmaster".

Look, I have tried, okay? I’ve tried to be as innocent as possible when reading the description, but it just didn’t work. Everytime I read the phrase "gently, ADULT used Thrustmaster", I just couldn’t help but getting uncomfortable mental images about  using the joystick and throttle for ADULT plays. For starter, has the joystick ever been used for gentle, anal masturbation? And how about the throttle? How do you pleasure yourself with a throttle? Well I figure the easiest way is inserting your wang in the narrow space between the throttle’s handle and the base, then moving the handle back and forth to make a gentle, penile stimulation. Throttle up…. Oohhh… Throttle down… Ahh… Gently, gently.

Well thank you, ebay seller –whoever wrote the item’s description. I have been playing flight sims since 1990, and using joystick and throttle since 1993, but never have I thought about them the way that I’m thinking now.

Now if you excuse me, I need to take a break from playing flight sims for too long and start playing with something innocent like Nintendo Wii.

But wait. The way I’m supposed to hold the Wiimote controler –I just realized it’s just way too similar to holding my wang when jerking off. Hey, maybe Nintendo should launch a game titled ‘World Championship Jackoff 2007′ where the player is supposed to grab his Wiimote and shake it back and forth to simulate the act of masturbation. Gyah, the more I think about it, the more wrong it becomes.

Send your hate mail to unimportant.shit@yahoo.com

Well, months have passed since my first blog entry. Nothing significant happens, except maybe my pubic hair has grown several inches longer.

People may question why I don’t blog very often (gah, so "blog" is a verb now?).  Frankly, who cares? What’s so important about it?  I mean, do people really care about how hurt your feelings are today  because your boyfriend practiced ventriloquism using his wang in front of your parents? Or is it really my business if it takes you several hours of bathroom time every morning, let alone *what* are you actually doing there?

But since we’re talking about bathroom, let me share you a bathroom incident I once had during my drunken stupor. See, I came home pretty drunk that night, and to please those emo sissies who happen to read this <ugh> blog, let’s add that I just broke up with my girlfriend as well.

Alas, I happened to be horny at that time. Having no girlfriend around, I naturally went to the bathroom and…..

But hey, wait. WHAT are you thinking now? Are you expecting a whacky-jacky story? A detailed account on every jerking motion? Shame shame shame.

Nah, I won’t share you *that* much details. Suffice to say that it was the most painful experience I ever had. Nonetheless, amidst my tears, I still remembered to make note to self: never, ever confuse Vicks Vaporub with KY Jelly!

Warning: never mistakenly take THIS for lube!

Send your hate mail to unimportant.shit@yahoo.com

Warning, don’t bother yourself reading this post since it’s only a test anyway. This is my first post and I’m just trying this out; so move along, nothing to see here. Shooo!! Away!

But…. hey, waiddafuckingminute. WHAT are you doing here? I thought you’ve been leaving already.  Whoa, you’re still reading this? Stubborn, aren’t you?

Very well, this is your last chance; STOP reading this shit or I’ll tell you the most disgusting stuff I’ve been thinking of lately.

(Sigh…) Alright, don’t say I didn’t warn you. See, one day I ordered spaghetti for lunch. Frankly, I had no idea WTF was going on but it took them forever to prepare my meal. Out of boredom, I started imagining things.

So while waiting, I imagined that the meatballs were actually made of human testicles. Yes, I said testicles. TES-TI-CLES. Scrotum. Testis. Balls. The things hanging around inside our sack (pardon the pun).

Of course the testicles should have been castrated freshly right before the cooking to preserve the taste, so I guessed there were some poor bastards squatting in the kitchen, waiting for their scrotum to be ripped out and served with my spaghetti.

I started to do the math, then. See, if the spaghetti was supposed to be served with ten meatballs, it would take five guys to make a serving. I believed it was a reasonable assumption, since most of us were born with a pair of testicles (unless we’re talking rare cases of "he-men" who were born with three, four, or even six testicles). So if it took five minutes to castrate each man, it would take twenty-five minutes to prepare my spaghetti; not to mention the time they need to cook the meal itself. Suddenly half an hour became a reasonable waiting time anyway.

The meatballs. Guess how many guys are eunuchized to make this?

But it seemed my imagination had gone too far, as I started wondering what the spaghetti itself are actually made of. Somehow it came to my mind that the spaghetti was actually a collection of tapeworms being bred inside our stomach. Don’t ask me how, but I was also sure those tapeworms were special-breed that requires to be harvested analy. Yes, being pulled out through the rectum. Of course, they *must* have included the fecal by-products as extra flavoring; otherwise my spaghetti wouldn’t have tasted that weird. Feces-flavored anal tapeworm, anyone?

So next time you order spaghetti for meal, you may want to take a peek of what actually happens in the kitchen. Who knows, you are lucky enough to see the castration process first hand. Alternatively, you may want to pull out the spaghetti yourself; right out of their hairy ass.

Well I DID warn you to skip this post, didn’t I?

Send your hate mail to unimportant.shit@yahoo.com