We’ve all seen them: stupid-ass MySpace polls. Things like, “What shade of lavender are you?“ or, “What Beetlejuice character would you end up falling in love with?“ or, “What country best represents the tartness of your labia?“

What purpose do these things have? I’ll tell you. They’re made to foster this kind of conversation:

Jen: Hey Tracy! Did you take the test I gave you?
Tracy: Yeah I did!
Jen:
So….
Tracy:
So what?
Jen:
So what kind of vagina are you?
Tracy:
I’m the roast beef sandwich!
Jen: Really? I got that too!
Tracy:
That’s why we’re BFFs, girl!
Jen:
Hahaha!
Tracy:
Hahaha!

“She wakes up; it’s time to really start fucking her. Which organ do you try to bruise with your cock?”

Yeah. And I’m pretty fucking sick of it. Thus, I’ve decided to make the best quiz ever. I call it…

What Kind of Rapist are You?

Let’s go!

You’re horny, but you’re in a real bad slump. Your ideal rape victim would be…

(A) Amy, a Southern belle who said we’d be better off “just being friends.”
(B)
Tina, a bitchy bartender who wears nothing but handkerchiefs around her fat tits.
(C)
The skinniest virgin I can catch.
(D)
Rosie, an illegal immigrant from Ruby Tuesday’s dishwashing staff.

How would you scope out your potential prey?

(A) I’d ask her for her number, take her on a date, and get to know her through a series of intricate, non-threatening questions. Then I’d make friends with all of her friends, gain her trust, and eventually convince her to give me her MySpace password… only then will I truly know her ways.
(B)
I’d follow her to a bar and watch how she acts while drunk.
(C)
I’d break in to her house and jam a very small camera inside a teddy bear. But instead of taking notes, I’d probably end up jacking off.
(D)
I’d cut a hole in the back of my bedroom and park my home in her driveway.

How would you prepare?

(A) I’d take a nice long jog through the park.
(B)
I’d take a nice long shit in the park’s public pool.
(C)
I’d jack off to that teddy bear porn a few more times.
(D)
I’d steam the tortillas to a soft, moist texture, then begin sizzling the steak and veggies on a hot iron plate.

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What’s the first thing you’d buy before a long night of raping?

(A) Two condoms and a police scanner.
(B)
A pair of aviator sunglasses. I don’t want her recognizing me!
(C)
10 feet of good, strong rope. Four for holding her down, six for hanging her afterward.
(D)
Pepe Lopez Tequila and a pack of USA Golds.

When you replace her rape whistle, what do you swap it with?

(A) A dog whistle. Its silence serves the best purpose.
(B)
A Weenie Whistle, it’s much more ironic!
(C)
I’d replace her whistle with a knife to the throat.
(D)
A Chihuahua.

How about her pepper spray?

(A) I’d wear goggles.
(B)
I’d substitute Binaca. Because nobody likes morning breath, not even rape victims.
(C)
I’d swap it with a little absinthe.
(D)
Cool! She has condiments!

You pull up to her house, approach the door…. Oh no! The bitch has a dog! How do you handle it?

(A) That’s why I brought a flask of antifreeze in my fanny pack.
(B)
I’ve got pills for that, too.
(C)
Shit, man, the dog can watch.
(D)
I’d hit it over the head with my shoe, then fry it up with some nice red beans.

You find her asleep. What’s the first thing you do?

(A) I quietly creep up to her bed and kiss her forehead.
(B)
I rip my pants off, scream “HEY BITCH!” and proceed with insertion.
(C)
I get out that fuckin’ rope.
(D)
I’d put my blindfold on and smack the shit out of her with a big stick

She wakes up; it’s time to really start fucking her. Which organ do you try to bruise with your cock?

(A) Her ovaries! My frat brothers would love that!
(B)
Her kidneys, baby. I hope they put her on dialysis.
(C)
Her fucking gull bladder. The bile numbs me up a bit, so I can go longer. And I wouldn’t mind jizzing on her tits from the inside.
(D)
Her modified tailpipe.

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You reach in your back pocket and find an item. What is it?

(A) My tissues, for the weeping.
(B)
My Eddie Money CD! Hey! That’s where that was!
(C)
A Ziploc bag of cocaine and a picture of Howard Stern.
(D)
A supreme chalupa with two packets of fire sauce.

She’s so fucking loud! How would you get her to stop with the damn screaming?

(A) A pillow. Simple, sweet, and comfortable enough for her beautiful face.
(B)
I don’t care if she’s conscious, I’ll fucking smack that bitch.
(C)
I’d stuff part of that dead dog down the bitch’s throat.
(D)
Threaten to call customs!

She’s really struggling now! Whatcha gonna do?

(A) Use a paper clip, my belt, and a flashlight to rig an intricate mechanism that subdues her with little to no pain.
(B)
Time to close my fists, then.
(C)
She isn’t struggling for me, she’s nearly dead.
(D)
Seduce her with the ways of the Tango.

Ahhh, you’re finished. Now what?

(A) Apologize and run home to my parent’s basement.
(B)
Give her my card, walk out of her house naked, and smoke a joint on the way to the metro.
(C)
Begin filming and hang that bitch from the rafters. (Add another C to your score if you instantly thought of a black chick.)
(D)
Tengo fiesta a mi casa!


Turned on yet? I’m sure you are, you sick fuck. Let’s count up your letters…

Mostly (A) – YOU’RE A DATE RAPIST!

-Intellectual, rational, but mainly just too emotional.
-You’re the bitch of the rapist world.
-Sorry man, you’re Hugh Grant.

Mostly (B) – YOU’RE A ROOFIE ARTIST!

-Cunning, arrogant, and drug-obsessed.
-You’re the average rapist.
-You’re the Johnny Depp of the rapist world

Mostly (C) – YOU’RE A SNUFF FILM DIRECTOR!

-Cold, ruthless, badass.
-You’re a Duke-lacrosse-playing, bitch-smackin’, hardcore-drinkin’, mean sonuvabitch.
-Mothafucka, you’re Samuel L. Jackson.

Mostly (D) – YOU’RE A MEXICAN!

– Hard-working, optimistic, tortilla-eating.
-You’re a below-average rapist, but you do it with that Latin passion.
-You’re the guy who cleaned the pigeon shit out of my attic!

Ba-deep, ba-deep, ba-deep, THAT’S ALL FOLKS!

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