Humor writing published daily. Featured: Best of Year | Editors’ Picks | People’s Favorites | Satire | Guides | Observations | Stories
Urinals, emotional maturity, and job responsibility - don't laugh, women, these are things we men have to deal with every day. Well, that and your misunderstanding of anything that's actually funny.
They say the first step to recovery is the admission of a problem. Well here it is, and here I am: I am addicted to Facebook. The following are the insurmountable consequences of trying to quit.
Holidays are supposed to be wondrous occasions to celebrate, but for the most part, a few come to mind that should be abolished and permanently etched off calendars worldwide.
Ever wondered what you're doing on this Earth? Not in a philosophical way, but in a why-didn't-your-mother-shank-your-fetus-with-a-broken-beer-bottle way? Well, your mother often wonders the same thing.
How far would you go to screw with your friends on Facebook? If you said steal your friend's identity and introduce their grandma to new sexual lingo, you're on the right track.
I was having a conversation with a friend regarding our favorite films when the idea hit me: why not combine various films to make unbeatable, blockbusting, super films? So I did.
What do you do when your highway porn store inflatable woman won't hold 'her' air any longer? Well, you can clean the dried cum off her face to start with.
Life isn't like the movies, much to the chagrin of many, so you'll suffer for the sake of a societal collective that believes celebrities 'don't go through the same shit we all do as human beings.'
As a celeb, if you slip up and lose your temper, they'll judge you for it; has nothing to do with the fact you've been hit in the face with self-righteous, misinformed stupid the last five years of your life.
In being famous you will be subject to a hopelessly boring life, and answer to absolutely every-fucking-body with no will to think independently. If this isn’t enough to deter you, follow these rules.
Felix sat down in one of the moderately expensive chairs and set his briefcase on the table in front of him. Inside was the script. Not just any script, but his life's accomplishment.
I intern at what they call a 'vanity' publishing house, which takes its title quite literally. We’re like that fake music video company that pissed out the auto-tuned disease that is 'Friday.'