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rubitrightintomyeyes: theonion: Rock Apparently Factors Into Girlfriend’s Shower Routine SEATTLE—Saying he was confused about the full extent of its purpose as well as its overall benefit, local man Jacob Ferris, 25, nonetheless surmised today that the oblong rock located in girlfriend Sarah Milstein’s shower caddy must somehow factor into her bathing routine, sources confirmed. “I guess at some point while she’s showering, she rubs a rock on her body,” said Ferris, expressing what he claimed was “the only possible conclusion” about the light-gray rock in his girlfriend’s bathroom. “I mean, it looks sort of nice, so she could just have it there for decoration or something. But it’s usually right near all the other soaps and her loofah, so I think it’s probably something she actually uses while under the water.” “I really don’t know how it all works,” Ferris added. “All I know is that in between Sarah getting into the shower and getting out, there’s a rock involved.” Ferris, who said he was unable to determine exactly when in the showering process the rock first comes into play, told reporters he is equally clueless about what part of the body the rock is used on. In addition, Ferris said he occasionally inspects the roughly 3-ounce object when he’s in Milstein’s shower, and told reporters that the rock is nearly always wet and is occasionally moved to slightly different spots within the bathtub, leading him to believe that his girlfriend uses it fairly regularly. He also noted his girlfriend’s bathing time never seems particularly longer than the average person’s considering she has added a rock into the mix. Ferris added that all attempts to incorporate the rock into his own shower routine have ultimately been unsuccessful. “I tried rubbing it on my skin once, and it hurt,” Ferris said, concluding that pouring soap and water directly onto the rock neither made it softer nor easier on his skin. “I could maybe see how it could get some dirt off of your body, but it seems too painful to work. Her skin usually looks nice though, so maybe I’m wrong.” “There is a chance it could be a hair thing,” Ferris continued. “Maybe she rubs the rock in her hair? I don’t know.” Ferris confirmed he has considered numerous reasons for why his girlfriend uses the rock in the shower, including that she has some type of skin condition, that the rock is some sort of weird tradition her family has, or that everyone uses rocks in the shower and he has been out of the loop the entire time. “It could be for cleaning the bathtub,” said Ferris, adding he once suspected the rock was a device for making the bathroom smell nice, but then noticed it had no discernible smell whatsoever. “Like every few weekends she scrubs the tub with this rock? I guess I could see Sarah doing that.” While Ferris said he is mostly certain that the rock was initially purchased at a home goods store of some kind, he was not able to completely rule out the possibility it was just a rock that his girlfriend found on the ground and decided to put in her shower. “I wonder if I should put a rock in my shower for when she’s over here,” said Ferris, who said he once tried to locate a rock at a Bed Bath & Beyond, but left after not wanting to walk up to a sales clerk and ask them where they kept their “shower rocks.” “Or I could just tell her to leave a rock at my place if she wants.” “I’m probably not going to do that,” Ferris added. At press time, a visibly perplexed Ferris had seen the rock sitting in Milstein’s trashcan and then looked in the shower to see another rock sitting in its place. : rubitrightintomyeyes: theonion: Rock Apparently Factors Into Girlfriend’s Shower Routine SEATTLE—Saying he was confused about the full extent of its purpose as well as its overall benefit, local man Jacob Ferris, 25, nonetheless surmised today that the oblong rock located in girlfriend Sarah Milstein’s shower caddy must somehow factor into her bathing routine, sources confirmed. “I guess at some point while she’s showering, she rubs a rock on her body,” said Ferris, expressing what he claimed was “the only possible conclusion” about the light-gray rock in his girlfriend’s bathroom. “I mean, it looks sort of nice, so she could just have it there for decoration or something. But it’s usually right near all the other soaps and her loofah, so I think it’s probably something she actually uses while under the water.” “I really don’t know how it all works,” Ferris added. “All I know is that in between Sarah getting into the shower and getting out, there’s a rock involved.” Ferris, who said he was unable to determine exactly when in the showering process the rock first comes into play, told reporters he is equally clueless about what part of the body the rock is used on. In addition, Ferris said he occasionally inspects the roughly 3-ounce object when he’s in Milstein’s shower, and told reporters that the rock is nearly always wet and is occasionally moved to slightly different spots within the bathtub, leading him to believe that his girlfriend uses it fairly regularly. He also noted his girlfriend’s bathing time never seems particularly longer than the average person’s considering she has added a rock into the mix. Ferris added that all attempts to incorporate the rock into his own shower routine have ultimately been unsuccessful. “I tried rubbing it on my skin once, and it hurt,” Ferris said, concluding that pouring soap and water directly onto the rock neither made it softer nor easier on his skin. “I could maybe see how it could get some dirt off of your body, but it seems too painful to work. Her skin usually looks nice though, so maybe I’m wrong.” “There is a chance it could be a hair thing,” Ferris continued. “Maybe she rubs the rock in her hair? I don’t know.” Ferris confirmed he has considered numerous reasons for why his girlfriend uses the rock in the shower, including that she has some type of skin condition, that the rock is some sort of weird tradition her family has, or that everyone uses rocks in the shower and he has been out of the loop the entire time. “It could be for cleaning the bathtub,” said Ferris, adding he once suspected the rock was a device for making the bathroom smell nice, but then noticed it had no discernible smell whatsoever. “Like every few weekends she scrubs the tub with this rock? I guess I could see Sarah doing that.” While Ferris said he is mostly certain that the rock was initially purchased at a home goods store of some kind, he was not able to completely rule out the possibility it was just a rock that his girlfriend found on the ground and decided to put in her shower. “I wonder if I should put a rock in my shower for when she’s over here,” said Ferris, who said he once tried to locate a rock at a Bed Bath & Beyond, but left after not wanting to walk up to a sales clerk and ask them where they kept their “shower rocks.” “Or I could just tell her to leave a rock at my place if she wants.” “I’m probably not going to do that,” Ferris added. At press time, a visibly perplexed Ferris had seen the rock sitting in Milstein’s trashcan and then looked in the shower to see another rock sitting in its place.

rubitrightintomyeyes: theonion: Rock Apparently Factors Into Girlfriend’s Shower Routine SEATTLE—Saying he was confused about the full...

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thejorie: xilast-zurvifferman: thejorie: jackbecq: thejorie: 19leahjade96: thejorie: madamekagamine: thejorie: gccgrimm: thejorie: gucciballs: thejorie: peble: thejorie: My three girlfriends.And yes, they smoke weed. do they smoke weed? Yes, actually. you mean she isnt just smoking a cigarette? but a weed cigarette? It’s called a bunt…. Not weed cigarette… And yes, it is a weed bunt. They all smoke weed bunts before we kiss. (They are my girlfriends,) They don’t look like they smoke weed. Fuck You.Fuck You.Fuck You.Fuck You.Fuck You.Fuck You.Fuck You.Fuck You.Fuck You.Fuck You.Fuck You.Fuck You.I’m so angry you are so lucky my three weed smorking girlfriends are rubbing my shoulders to calm me down I’m so mad. Your “weed smoking girlfriend” has a Hello Kitty tattoo on her belly. The one in the middle. I printed out a photo of your avatar and taped it to my punching bag that I punch and I mutter your URL with every strong punch I punch you twerp…. Don’t ever Talk about Blaiz or the wicked Tat(tattoo) I drew on her ever again I Don’t wanna see you standing outside my home at 3 am holding your weird dripping brown bags ever again ok leave us alone this is the FINAL FUCKING WARNING  Well that escalated quickly…… What, was that? Hmm? Come again. *Blaiz grabs my shoulder* Come on Jory, they aren’t worth it, please. * I jerk my shoulder shaking her hand off* NO! NOOOOO!!! *starts to just pummel you with my big fucking fists. With each blow I let out a furious yell. The blows come quicker and harder and the yells get louder. I’m yelling so loud and now I’m crying. BREAKING POINT. The week was hard and I can’t take anymore. I’m opening sobbing at this point while you blood gurgle. All three of my girlfriends struggle to pull me off and they finally succeed and lead me away from the goo pile that is now your body* haha oh my god who even is this dude? someone needs some anger management classes. love how he keeps reminding us that “I HAVE THREE GIRLFRIENDS”, “THEY ALL KISS ME”, and “THEY SMOKE WEED HURRP DURR”. and let’s not forget the “Blaiz” and her “wicked tat”, or that he doesn’t “wanna see you standing outside [his] home at 3 am holding your weird dripping brown bags ever again”, and that this is “the FINAL FUCKING WARNING”. “the goo pile that is now your body” i’m dying over here, jesus please, Jory, come challenge me to a bout of internet witticsisms; i promise, it’ll be fun. *shoots you dead* Heh, idiot…*leaves with my three weed smorking girlfriends to go hold hands and kiss.* this dude playin omg  Come again? *The bar falls silent. No one dares to make a sound, as you have just said a very poor choice of words at a very dangerous time. I remain slumped over the bar, not looking back to you. One hand limply holding an almost empty bottle, the other hand cradling my head. I repeat the question, this time louder.* Come again?! *You can hear me slur the words, the sentence sounds like a real struggle for me to get out. I’m clearly intoxicated. A bead of sweat rolls down your face as you realize you might have just fucked up in a very major way. Everyone else in the bar is pretending to not notice what is going on. The bartender idly washes a mug with a cloth. His eyes are closed and he’s muttering something to himself. A handful of people hurriedly leave. One person looks back at you, a look of sorrow on their face. They almost say something, but shake their head and cast their eyes down to the floor, and leave. But not you. You stand, petrified. A quick look at me reveals I’m still  at the bar. You look to the exit, there’s still time. But there’s not, there’s not, there’s not. Your fate was sealed the moment you opened your mouth.* Mother fuck.. what did you say?! *I slowly rise from my stool and being to lumber over to you.  I look a mess. My hair is unkempt, I haven’t shaved in what looks like months, there are dark heavy bags under my eyes, my shirt is stained and has holes in it, and I’m missing a shoe. But the main thing you notice is the gun tucked into my jeans, and my massive muscle arms that look like they were made for punching. You know that song about the boots that were made for walking? Yeah, it’s like that only instead of boots it’s my muscles and instead of walking it’s punching. As I drunkenly sway over to you, you think of your family… Will they mourn you, or will they try and forget this blotch of stupidity, that their child insulted the Jory publicly, ever happened to their family? Your thoughts are cut short as I now stand face to face with you. I grab your face and pull you even closer.* Playin?! There was nothing playing… no playing you fuck. No playing… it was real.. the realest thing I’ve ever know.. felt… Love. I loved them… Blaiz…. Chas-Chas… Funk… I loved all three of em… but they…*My face is wet with tears and I’m blinking constantly in vain to hold them back.* They left me… left… *Almost instantly the sadness leaves my face and is replaced with pure anger.* Playin? Playin?! *My hand leaves your face and starts to head to what you think is the gun. You close your eyes and see God looking at you, shrugging. ‘Pft, you brought this upon yourself dude.’ He says as he waves his hands at you dismissively. But instead of the gun, my hands grab yours. Your eyes jolt open and the anger is gone from my face. There is only sadness.* Left me… * I fall to the floor and sob.*Wow, grow up. *You say before you leave the bar but are hit almost immediately from a car and are killed upon impact.* : thejorie: xilast-zurvifferman: thejorie: jackbecq: thejorie: 19leahjade96: thejorie: madamekagamine: thejorie: gccgrimm: thejorie: gucciballs: thejorie: peble: thejorie: My three girlfriends.And yes, they smoke weed. do they smoke weed? Yes, actually. you mean she isnt just smoking a cigarette? but a weed cigarette? It’s called a bunt…. Not weed cigarette… And yes, it is a weed bunt. They all smoke weed bunts before we kiss. (They are my girlfriends,) They don’t look like they smoke weed. Fuck You.Fuck You.Fuck You.Fuck You.Fuck You.Fuck You.Fuck You.Fuck You.Fuck You.Fuck You.Fuck You.Fuck You.I’m so angry you are so lucky my three weed smorking girlfriends are rubbing my shoulders to calm me down I’m so mad. Your “weed smoking girlfriend” has a Hello Kitty tattoo on her belly. The one in the middle. I printed out a photo of your avatar and taped it to my punching bag that I punch and I mutter your URL with every strong punch I punch you twerp…. Don’t ever Talk about Blaiz or the wicked Tat(tattoo) I drew on her ever again I Don’t wanna see you standing outside my home at 3 am holding your weird dripping brown bags ever again ok leave us alone this is the FINAL FUCKING WARNING  Well that escalated quickly…… What, was that? Hmm? Come again. *Blaiz grabs my shoulder* Come on Jory, they aren’t worth it, please. * I jerk my shoulder shaking her hand off* NO! NOOOOO!!! *starts to just pummel you with my big fucking fists. With each blow I let out a furious yell. The blows come quicker and harder and the yells get louder. I’m yelling so loud and now I’m crying. BREAKING POINT. The week was hard and I can’t take anymore. I’m opening sobbing at this point while you blood gurgle. All three of my girlfriends struggle to pull me off and they finally succeed and lead me away from the goo pile that is now your body* haha oh my god who even is this dude? someone needs some anger management classes. love how he keeps reminding us that “I HAVE THREE GIRLFRIENDS”, “THEY ALL KISS ME”, and “THEY SMOKE WEED HURRP DURR”. and let’s not forget the “Blaiz” and her “wicked tat”, or that he doesn’t “wanna see you standing outside [his] home at 3 am holding your weird dripping brown bags ever again”, and that this is “the FINAL FUCKING WARNING”. “the goo pile that is now your body” i’m dying over here, jesus please, Jory, come challenge me to a bout of internet witticsisms; i promise, it’ll be fun. *shoots you dead* Heh, idiot…*leaves with my three weed smorking girlfriends to go hold hands and kiss.* this dude playin omg  Come again? *The bar falls silent. No one dares to make a sound, as you have just said a very poor choice of words at a very dangerous time. I remain slumped over the bar, not looking back to you. One hand limply holding an almost empty bottle, the other hand cradling my head. I repeat the question, this time louder.* Come again?! *You can hear me slur the words, the sentence sounds like a real struggle for me to get out. I’m clearly intoxicated. A bead of sweat rolls down your face as you realize you might have just fucked up in a very major way. Everyone else in the bar is pretending to not notice what is going on. The bartender idly washes a mug with a cloth. His eyes are closed and he’s muttering something to himself. A handful of people hurriedly leave. One person looks back at you, a look of sorrow on their face. They almost say something, but shake their head and cast their eyes down to the floor, and leave. But not you. You stand, petrified. A quick look at me reveals I’m still  at the bar. You look to the exit, there’s still time. But there’s not, there’s not, there’s not. Your fate was sealed the moment you opened your mouth.* Mother fuck.. what did you say?! *I slowly rise from my stool and being to lumber over to you.  I look a mess. My hair is unkempt, I haven’t shaved in what looks like months, there are dark heavy bags under my eyes, my shirt is stained and has holes in it, and I’m missing a shoe. But the main thing you notice is the gun tucked into my jeans, and my massive muscle arms that look like they were made for punching. You know that song about the boots that were made for walking? Yeah, it’s like that only instead of boots it’s my muscles and instead of walking it’s punching. As I drunkenly sway over to you, you think of your family… Will they mourn you, or will they try and forget this blotch of stupidity, that their child insulted the Jory publicly, ever happened to their family? Your thoughts are cut short as I now stand face to face with you. I grab your face and pull you even closer.* Playin?! There was nothing playing… no playing you fuck. No playing… it was real.. the realest thing I’ve ever know.. felt… Love. I loved them… Blaiz…. Chas-Chas… Funk… I loved all three of em… but they…*My face is wet with tears and I’m blinking constantly in vain to hold them back.* They left me… left… *Almost instantly the sadness leaves my face and is replaced with pure anger.* Playin? Playin?! *My hand leaves your face and starts to head to what you think is the gun. You close your eyes and see God looking at you, shrugging. ‘Pft, you brought this upon yourself dude.’ He says as he waves his hands at you dismissively. But instead of the gun, my hands grab yours. Your eyes jolt open and the anger is gone from my face. There is only sadness.* Left me… * I fall to the floor and sob.*Wow, grow up. *You say before you leave the bar but are hit almost immediately from a car and are killed upon impact.*
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