Hello and welcome back to Reddit Insanity.
We're at number 21.
21.
You can drink now.
This subsection of our channel, yeah.
Get fucking plastered.
Make bad decisions.
You only live once.
Which is what these people do.
Make bad decisions, not fatal ones.
This one, the first one that we have is by Mount Ciri.
What's the series we're on?
It's today I fucked up.
I mean, they're the ones that we learn the most lessons from.
And the things not to do.
We learned about worms.
We learned about kicking stuff that you shouldn't be kicking.
We learned not to eat bullion.
Yeah, we learned a lot of lessons here.
That's something that I didn't think I would have to learn.
It's just like I naturally would not do.
But I guess I'm rational.
But you learn the consequences of it.
Alright, so the first story we got is by Mount Ciri.
This person puts, In a shared hanger with several workshops,
my friends and I rented a small space for our knife making enterprise.
For a year, our shared kitchen and fridge functioned harmoniously, with everyone respecting
one another's food.
However, an anonymous individual began stealing my sandwiches, consuming half of each one,
leaving bite marks as if to talk.
Eat the whole fucking sandwich you animal at this fucking point.
Leaving a bite mark.
That would be the worst fucking thing.
Leave me half the sandwich with your fucking herpes all over it.
So initially, I assumed it was a one off, but when it occurred again, I was determined
to act.
I prepared sandwiches with extremely spicy Carolina Reaper sauce.
Oh god.
A teaspoon in each, leaving a note warning about the consequences of stealing someone
else's food.
And went out for lunch.
Upon my return, chaos reigned.
The atmosphere was one of panic, and a woman's scream cut through the commotion, accompanied
by her child's cry.
The culprit turned out to be our cleaner's nine year old son, who she would bring to
work during his school's disinfection week.
He had made a habit of pilfering from the fridge, bypassing the healthy lunches his
mother had prepared in favor of my sandwiches.
The fucking nasty sandwich we'd be making that he would favor those.
The child was in distress, suffering from the intense spiciness of the sauce.
In my defense, I explained that the sandwiches were mine, and I'd spiked them with hot sauce.
The cleaner, initially relieved by my explanation, suddenly became furious, accusing me of trying
to harm her child.
This resulted in an escalated situation, with the cleaner reporting the incident to our
landlord and threatening police intervention.
The incident strained relations within the other workshops, siding with the cleaner due
to her status as a mother.
Consequently, our landlord has given us a month to relocate, adding to our financial
struggles.
Geez, he fucked his whole life up.
My friends, too, are upset with me.
I maintain my innocence, arguing that I had no idea a child was a food thief.
I would never intentionally harm a child.
Nonetheless, it seems I am held responsible, accused of creating a huge problem from a seemingly
trivial situation.
The child is okay.
No harm to the health was inflicted.
It still was just an edible sauce, just a very, very spicy one.
It's not not, I mean, that shit will fuck your guts up.
It can do like permanent, like, intestinal damage.
Yeah, this will teach a kid not to fucking eat somebody else's food.
I guess, but it's a little bit harsh.
He didn't know he was a kid.
He ulcers at nine years old for the rest of his life.
Fucking spitting blood up ahead.
For the rest of forever.
See, I'm taking the dude's side on this one.
Don't be stealing shit out of somebody.
That's why you gotta relocate now.
I could see if like he if he intentionally meant to hurt the kid.
What kind of sandwiches was he making that the kid was like, this shit looks bomb.
You know what I mean?
Like what kind of sandwiches was the kid's mom making that he didn't want?
Probably like, yeah, somehow probably a fat kid.
I can see a fat little Hispanic kid in my head.
It would be cleaners kid.
Hey, I'm Mexican.
So that's my first tattoo.
It's a chubby little Mexican.
I believe they can't handle it yet.
They can't handle it yet.
Not to their least start saying that's when the immunity kicks in.
All right.
So the next one is by Rich Dig.
Five nine seven seven.
This person puts my a 26 year old female boyfriend, 24 year old male agreed with me on having
a movie night yesterday.
We live together.
So we usually have movie nights every two to three weeks.
Today I went out and bought a lot of snacks and even off.
Fuck they do the rest of the time unless they both work.
Maybe.
Yeah, but I mean, you don't have to have time.
Maybe not.
That's so weird.
Like every two or three weeks we have movie night because our lives are so fucking incredibly
busy.
I can see that.
Or they work and then they get home and tired.
I'm a complete loser and I always have a movie night.
Every night.
I'm just bursting with tears just now.
Every night.
Today I went out and bought a lot of snacks and even made some at home.
But then after I finished preparing everything, I sat down waiting for him.
He said he'd be home around 10, but he just never showed up.
Eleven goes by and then midnight and then one, two and three in the morning.
Oh shit.
I blew up his phone with calls and text messages at the time and I was worried sick that I
even thought of calling the emergencies.
But then at 3 40 in the morning he enters the house.
I could see his eyes were soulless and he reeked of alcohol.
I lost my mind whenever I saw him like that.
I lashed out at him saying that whatever excuse he comes up with, I'm going to, it's not going
to clear up the alcohol and returning home at four in the morning.
I bet.
I bet what he said.
Well, I told him, where were you at?
At the bar or at a club with some girls or maybe you were with some friends completely
forgetting about me.
That's always about me.
And that's why I, you came home late.
I also said you were probably drinking out with some girls perhaps.
Maybe that's totally what you were doing.
And I can't believe I waited for you when you were at some club.
He just sat there emotionless on the couch and then dropped the bombshell he had that
his little brother, 14 year old had just gotten into an accident and that he was with him
the whole night in the hospital until he passed away an hour ago.
I was speechless.
It's like, oh, after you were just berating him too.
It's like, oh, I can tell that that's where the story was swerving because of the fact
that we have it moving every two or three weeks and then all of a sudden something changed.
It had to be something drastic.
Yeah.
So you got drunk in an hour?
Uh, I don't know.
Or just drinking like where you go out and just start drinking shit.
Cause you want to kill yourself.
Maybe I could say that I couldn't do anything, but get on my knees and beg for his forgiveness.
I could, I could have even kissed his feet if he hadn't stopped me.
So I ended up holding him in my arms and listened to him spill his feelings out.
He recalled, he called me yesterday telling me that he had just got his first girlfriend.
He was happy and we talked for four hours straight.
He was telling me how he got a Jim's description because he wanted to be strong like his big
bro.
He kept asking for advice.
We laughed and we talked seriously and we even mocked and joked about each other.
I can't believe my baby brother is gone.
And he ended up crying himself to sleep in my arms while I cried with him.
I'm currently focused on helping my boyfriend recover and not let him feel alone, but I'm
still feeling guilty to an unimaginable point.
I can't even think of a possible way to make it up to him.
I should be fine.
He'll get over it.
I don't mean like that, but you know what I mean?
Supercal?
No, no.
I just find it weird that he didn't call her and be like, Hey, I'm at the hospital.
The only thing I can think of is they don't let you have cell phones in certain hospitals.
What?
In Russia?
What do you mean you can't have your cell phone?
No, there's certain emergency rooms.
They won't let you have them because it messes with the equipment that they have.
They're highly, my piece of shit cell phone is going to fuck up their high level equipment
bullshit.
The high broadband that your phone puts out.
Yeah, like my fucking phone is going to somehow fuck up your fucking thousands of dollars
worth of equipment.
Don't you fucking lie to me.
Or he cared about more about his little brother than he did her.
Probably.
Yeah, I don't blame him.
I can see that.
His family.
Yeah.
I mean, she feels all this and that.
I mean, I'm sure she'll feel when I'm, when I said like, uh, he'll be all right.
I mean, like, you know, I just took it to the other street.
Yeah, immediately.
But, uh, you know, he'll be like, just have to process his emotions.
Yeah.
Unless he lashes out of her as a, because he's got no way to direct his anger.
Yeah.
So he's going to pick her out.
So that's going to be a problem.
Yeah.
If he's one of the, but then again, I'm a psychologist by the way.
Then again, he seems like the kind of person that he always spends time with her apparently
whenever like on set schedules.
So I don't know.
I would say, let's hope they made it through.
I would say don't beat yourself over the, over yourself about it too much.
Unless she's a good enough person to feel guilty over her own actions.
I mean, she's mature enough.
This is what I was going to say.
She's at least a conscious enough to know it's like, Oh, I fucked up with that one.
Like, okay.
So this basically teaches you in the future.
Don't jump to conclusions.
But it's also narcissistic to be like, so worried about her.
It's about him.
His brother's dead.
So it's still about her cause she's writing a big ass story about it.
She's like, Oh, I'm so, I feel so guilty about me.
Yeah.
Worry about him right now.
If you can, like if you can't don't be with him.
Like, I don't know.
Oh, grown up emotions are brutal.
See, I've done brought you down now.
Next one is by here.
Hang on here.
F Oh here.
Here forth the porn.
That thing is my account.
Here forth the here for the porno.
Yeah, that's that's why this is no story.
Let's see what I did.
I don't remember.
I go on mad vendors.
This person fits.
This literally just happened right after I turned 20.
I was just having a birthday joint when somebody added me on snap.
So I checked and expected a bot, but when it actually responded like a human, not immediately
offering their links or whatever.
So we started chatting a little and after her reveal of as a stripper, it turned sexual
and he sent some pics back and forth.
After a few pics, they're now sending my own pics back with screens of my Instagram saying
they're going to send them to everyone.
If I don't pay five thousand dollars, no, because I would not be stupid.
Oh, a random person just said, let me start sending my at the same time.
Like, who are you going to send my dick to?
Bitch?
No one gives a fuck.
They've all seen it.
That'd be my response.
The pigs don't have my full face, but anyone who knows me will probably recognize me anyways.
How the fuck were they waiting for your dick or his body?
His body shape?
Maybe.
I tried to stall by lying, saying I have no money and I'm homeless and addicted.
So please not to make it any worse.
They didn't seem to care and then sent a screen of them having sent it to a friend of mine.
I just responded.
I can't pay, so they might as well.
Hey, Gary, this is your dick.
That's me.
Okay.
From then on, I've stopped opening the messages and right now I'm hoping they'll get bored
of ruining my life after realizing they're not getting money.
It's late at night, so I won't find out until tomorrow who's actually seen it.
TLDR, got extorted on my birthday after stupidly sending nudes to a stranger.
Yeah, that's what I'm saying.
Like, what brain?
Then there's an update.
The update.
I opened the messages, screen recorded everything just in case, and blocked them.
He sent six screenshots of having sent the photos to people I follow.
Luckily, only one of them I know enough to even care.
I messaged that person and they said they haven't gotten anything and also haven't
heard from anyone else so far.
I think they lost interest after realizing I'm not paying and deleted the pictures they
had already sent so they wouldn't get reported for it.
So I think nothing really happened except me learning a big old lesson.
Don't send your dick pics to people.
Strangers.
Even somebody that you might break up with in the future because they'll post that shit
everywhere.
She can have them.
For friends, for mom.
She can all have them.
For dad.
She can have them too.
They can all get this dick.
I do not give apoc.
A literal fuck.
I'll fuck them all.
Send everybody.
I'll fuck them all.
I don't know.
I guess I'm not going to say I'm a voyeur, but at the same time, a dick's a dick.
It's not going to ruin my life.
Like if Barack Obama dropped his dick pic tomorrow, it'd be all over the news, right?
And then a month later, no one gives a fuck.
That's true.
I mean, you don't have to look.
I will, but yeah.
Let me see what the presidential dick looks like.
Yeah, that's a president's dick, all right.
Next one is by Timmy3AM.
3AM.
Yeah.
Obligatory, this didn't happen today, but over the course of a decade.
To set some background, I started smoking weed whenever I was 14.
I remember the first time I smoked.
I laughed so much to the point I dropped to the floor and rolled around on the road in
the neighborhood.
What the fuck?
It was great.
However, the more I smoked, the more joyous and bubbly this was replaced with paranoia.
I was widely paranoid that I'd get caught by my parents.
Either they'd smell it on me or they'd realize I'm acting kind of weird.
Yeah, I guess so.
If you're falling onto the ground, rolling around on the street.
Yeah, in the middle of the fucking road.
What are you doing in the ghetto?
Probably.
This led to me having a very well structured smoking routine.
Before I'd smoke on my room's balcony, I'd make sure I made casual leaving remarks to
anyone around and then pee in the bathroom before entering my room.
That way, they'd have no reason to leave my room whenever I'm stoned.
This went on for all through my high school as I kept smoking.
I'd always go through the same routine.
Say my goodbyes, take a piss, lock my room and get blazed.
Mind you, I was smoking on the daily.
I went off to college and things got a bit relaxed and I was able to partake in my favorite
pastime with no worry.
However, I noticed this.
Whenever I'm about to smoke or light up, especially the first joint of the day, so apparently
they don't work because since they're smoking multiple times a day, this is the first one
of the day, I'd feel like I'd have to really have to piss.
What the fuck is he getting the money in?
If he's not on the ground.
Exactly.
It is intense, like having a full bladder only for dribbles to come out.
Oh, I thought it was something.
That would suck.
By the way, at my job, sometimes I spend like, you know, 10 hours not pissing, right?
Yeah.
Man, when I hit that toilet, everybody gets the fuck out.
This shit's about to get serious.
I could piss like a camel.
I thought it was something that would go away, but it still happens to me right now and I'm
26.
Every time I want to smoke weed, I feel like I really have to be and it doesn't happen
for cigarettes or she show or vape or anything.
It's just weed.
I know why.
Could this be a classical conditioning we learned about in biology class?
Yes, exactly.
When we were kids.
He basically he trained his body to piss before smoking the weed.
Yeah.
So now his body's like, don't we need to piss first before we do this?
It happens to Pavlov effect.
Yeah.
The one that Brian beat the shit out of with Bell.
Yeah.
Next one is by Ruby Tigress.
What's your professional wrestler?
It's a horse name problem.
But obligatory, this actually happened yesterday.
I tried to post last night, but I was having trouble.
The not safe for work tag is due to the mention of underwear and underwear regions.
This morning started fairly typical.
Woke up, drink coffee, had a shower and went to go get dressed.
I don't shower before work.
You come back just stank in the country.
Some of us take two to three showers a day.
Two to three.
Who's got the time?
Only take one.
Go to work, come home, take a shower, go to bed.
I don't have much of what you call a life.
And as I'm digging through my drawers and I remembered that I had run out of my tried
and true everyday work undies yesterday and dropped a little clothes into the washer,
I never transferred them into the dryer.
Of course it was too late to dry them in time for work.
So I just switched them over and went to look through my not everyday extra sexy underwear
that were still in the drawer and found a set of cheeky boy short style sparkly pant
underwear that I had never worn.
Why not?
Might as well.
I couldn't go into public without something to hold up my jiggling belly in the outfit
I was wearing anyway.
I'm not a skinny girl and I've done a lot of up and down in my weight.
So at my current lower weight, I have a lot of belly jiggle.
Oh hello.
Give me all the jiggles.
My typical undergarments are high-waisted.
If I wear high-waisted underwear, it prevents the jiggles.
So I want to see the jiggles.
So the booty short underwear would do the trick, right?
Booty shorts.
Plus, cute sparkly undies.
More confidence during the day, right?
That's what all those women's magazines say.
I just want to see all that.
After putting them on, I noticed that they were a bit tight in spots, especially around
my butt and lady bits.
Let me see your little lady bits.
But I assumed they would relax.
They were brand new.
Sometimes new underwear needed to be stretched a little bit.
I'll stretch them out for you.
I can't help it right now.
I'm just being fucking weird.
Then I got dressed and headed off to work.
It was a busy day and I work on my feet.
And about 30 minutes in, I start to notice.
I'll work you on your feet.
That's the last one.
I promise.
I start to notice a little chafing.
I'll give you some.
I wanted to go to the bathroom to readjust, but I just didn't have the time.
I'll readjust.
So I do my best to adjust myself and keep going until I get the chance to use the restroom.
I'll keep making you keep going until you got to use the restroom.
I should do some.
I should get some improv classes.
After four hours of rubbing.
I'll give you four hours of rubbing.
It's too easy.
She's making them too easy.
That turned into scratching.
That became what felt like a razor blade wedgie.
I finally got to lunch and I had to limp into the bathroom and pull down my panties.
I'll make you limp.
To find that I am so raw that the sparkles are around the edges and I have actually started
bleeding.
Oh my God.
That took a dark turn.
The tight spots never stretched.
The worst part was that I still had four more hours to go at this point.
I didn't know what to do.
I wondered if I should cut my losses and just go commando, but my outfit was a jumpsuit
and a tie on sandals and I would basically have to strip naked to remove them.
It was going to take a long time.
My next thought was to maybe I could put on a maxi pad as a shield, but there weren't
any in the cupboard.
So I finally decided to use some paper towels to line the worst parts and try to prevent
more rubbing.
After the rest of the day, I finally got home.
My butt was raw bleeding and now I have pieces of sparkly paper towels stuck to the bleeding
source.
She did in the car to drive home was painful.
The underwear went straight into the garbage and I showered and slathered my button only
man and laid down for the rest of the night.
She's that's painful.
The one, the other was just too tighter.
Yeah, it didn't never stretch at all.
So then he's just like, so he just pretty much just like, Oh my God, turn into a fucking
razor wire.
Yeah.
Like the bedazzled shit.
I once, uh, I went to Walmart, right?
And I need some underwear.
So I'm looking for boxers and looking through the whole thing.
Fuck, where are they?
There we go.
Large.
I grabbed, just grabbed a pack of underwear and I went home.
Yeah.
I mean, I didn't see it on my bottom.
I went home.
I go home and then the next day before work, I rip him out.
I'm like, uh, I should have probably watched them before, but they're in a package.
It's fine.
I put them on right.
And they only fit one leg.
It turned out there were a large kids.
I was like, son of a bitch.
Yo, look at my fat fucking thigh.
It's like, Oh, well, what's that makes it even worse though?
Cause you're buying kids under work.
I didn't notice.
I just said large.
I didn't even read the, like on top of the large, it said kids large.
I was like, I just saw the bottom of the green.
It was large.
I got large.
So what I need, I'm a fat ass extra XL man.
I was like, these are real tight.
And there was no way like the only way there was no way I could have had the other leg.
There was no, there was no humanly way possible.
I could fit the fat sausage size.
I was like, God, this is a large.
That's what I thought.
Like this is a large, I mean, like double XL.
Yeah.
But then I look at the fucking package.
These are kids underwear.
I was, I didn't even, I was doing bad.
I even returned them.
I just threw them in the trash.
I was too embarrassed.
Like, what was I going to say?
Like I tried to, I'm stupid.
I'm stupid.
And it would look weird too.
It's like, yeah, I don't have any kids, but I didn't have any kids.
He got away.
I don't need it.
I don't make it worse.
Exactly.
Just every time you say something, it gets even worse.
Or I walk up there, right?
The funniest if I walk up there, you got the wrong size.
Did you?
Like, like they, like they already like, they're like a hundred thousand.
Yeah.
They're taking a thousand.
Like you're working like, you know, retail, if you worked there long enough, you've seen
it all.
Basically everything.
So basically when he, like, if I, you know, they walk up there, like I was at the dollar
store, right?
So I've seen like damn near everything.
I haven't seen any, I've seen, this woman came in yesterday.
She was a, she was a BBW, big, beautiful woman.
She was a big old girl.
Or you could say a big, big bitch.
No, I am respectful.
I like all women types.
I like them all the way from, you know, scrawny, petite, all the way to big old, big old titties,
big old, big old bitties.
I like it all.
I am, I am a connoisseur of the female form.
You can weigh 400 pounds or 98.
I'll eat, I'll eat both of you.
I guess it's all, to me, it goes down to a face.
If I find the face attractive, regardless of the body, I'm game.
He's looking for you thousand pound sisters.
Or you know, 98 pound young lady or a 65 year old granny.
I'll eat it all.
Anything within legal range.
I'm down, I'm down to clamps.
You can dress up in a mime outfit.
I'll do whatever.
I'll make you scream.
Anyway, what the fuck was I talking about?
Oh yeah, so this woman comes in, right?
And her, her fly is down and you know, she's a big girl.
There's so much meat, it's popping out of the zipper of the fly.
Like in this there's just skin.
She's not wearing an underwear and she's shaved.
So her whole upper, you know, the, the, the Fupa, the fat, all that's sticking out.
And I'm like, well, I can't tell her.
I've been too embarrassed to say anything.
Like girl, you're coochie out.
What am I supposed to say?
The old woman in the back there is like, girl, what the fuck?
I try, yeah, like I call like my friend Carla or somebody, but I mean, it is what it is.
When I say like we've seen it all.
Yeah, you've seen it all.
I've seen, I saw these two, they were dry humping in the chemical section.
Like they were doing it.
They were, she was like, he's like, oh lordy lord.
And she's like, and she's like grinding.
It was all doggy style standing, right?
And there's one guy, one time he popped out.
Like I'm standing here.
The woman's a few feet to my left, same aisle.
I'm cleaning up the aisle.
I'm organizing.
She's shopping.
Her boyfriend pops up, right?
And he pops up beside her.
He's like, hey, you like this hot dog?
If I had his dick out.
And I was like, I'd look for over for a second.
I said, dick, dick.
I just see that.
And she's over here just fucking laughing her ass off.
Say, how you want these?
I'm like, damn it.
And then the next, then that night I ate some hot dogs for some of them.
I don't remember why.
I just had a craving for hot dogs that night.
I don't recall why.
We've seen it all.
We've seen, I had a kid throw up the other day.
Carrots all over the floor.
I had a guy shit himself and walk out the door leaving the trail of shit on the way
out that I didn't have to clean because I was off the clock.
I don't work here.
In person, they filled up a fucking New Year's Day hat full of piss and left it on the fucking
aisle.
You nasty son of a bitch.
So what I'm saying, like I came out with those boxers, like they probably seen all that.
Yeah, you seen it.
But even so, I was still embarrassed.
I just threw them in the trash.
But man, I'll never do that again.
I always check the packaging.
Men's or husky boys.
Or you know, if you want some panties, the women's Excel, get them granny panties.
All right.
Last story for Reddit today.
Okay.
Unless you have more stories.
I have you, bro.
You have no idea.
I've got some that scare you.
So everything, nothing scares me.
Only failure.
This is by a NSJI JCP.
JZ?
Is it about Beyonce?
With all that ass?
This person put-
You see that Cardi B through a micro foot at a woman?
I knocked her teeth out, bro.
She can throw.
She's like, boom.
Well, she is hidden.
So?
Hey, man, she's like, she can get all of it.
She can throw it in my face.
I'll catch it with a high.
Man, but she knew exactly.
She caught that woman, cleaned the face, I think.
She did.
Jesus, that was brutal.
So this person put, so-
And she's left-handed too, because she switched it to her left hand.
This person- trying to figure out where it was.
This person puts, I ate almost one kilogram of Skyr cottage cheese, et cetera.
And the morning-
One kilogram, sir.
This is America.
2.2 pounds?
God.
Yeah.
Two pounds of cheese?
What are you, Ralphie May?
And Skyr, I don't know what that- do you know what Skyr is?
No.
I mean-
Just buy some, you know-
I mean, dairy, obviously.
My god.
So Skyr cottage cheese, et cetera.
And the morning-
Man, his booty hole must have just been bubbling.
And the morning, I was too lazy to make myself some food.
And because I had woke up around 11 a.m., I ended up just eating 300 grams of Skyr.
And then going to the gym around 2 p.m.
Not really smart of me, I know.
Then I ended up doing three hour workout that left me so exhausted, I didn't want to do
anything.
So I just ate another 550 grams of cottage cheese.
Oh, he's one of those, you know, body builder type-
Yeah.
Everything in grams and-
Right.
Right out of the box.
I don't even know why I made the terrible life choice.
Then I decided it's time to eat some fruits.
So I ate like 300 grams of that and topped it off with another 150 grams of Skyr.
Jesus.
Only then it hit me.
I ate 900 grams of lactose things.
And I have been drinking lactose free milk for like three years because normal milk made
me always feel bad.
Now I have such a big gas in my stomach, it looks like I'm four months pregnant.
And I can feel bubbles in my stomach.
I'm afraid of what will come out of me in the next morning.
I'm afraid I will not live to see the morning.
I'm not sure what will happen for the next few hours, but it will be a night to remember,
I know.
Wish me luck.
I know exactly what's going to happen.
We have edits though.
He's going to fucking blow his ass out.
Edit one.
I haven't shit the bed yet, but the gas is so strong right now I could set my house on
fire if I had a lighter.
Just fucking fart.
He doesn't think he's not farting at all.
Edit two.
Woke up.
Sheet's still clean.
Got a lot of gas.
Stomach still hurts.
I think I'm safe for now, but at some point poop will come and I don't think it will be
a nice visit.
Don't eat two and a half pounds basically of fucking cheese.
Yeah, that's weird.
That's a weird meal.
That's a lot of cottage cheese.
Yeah.
Who has two and a half pounds of cheese to begin with?
Fuck.
I'd rather have my cheese in my house ever.
Well cottage cheese, like those tubs of it.
Okay.
550 grams, probably like one of those bigger tubs of cottage cheese.
So he's like, I can't even imagine just fucking dicking down on some cheese like that.
That's a lot of fucking cheese.
A lot.
And why, why?
He just randomly picked cheese of all things.
Bodybuilder style.
You gotta get that protein or dairy or what?
The dairy protein or whatever.
I mean, that's a lot of fucking cheese though.
Like you can't even eat regular cheese like that.
Like no.
It's disgusting after a while.
Like too slicey.
I had a lot of cheese today.
I got a sandwich to take to work that I just got at Walmart.
And I just fucking put like three pieces of fucking cheese and I'll cross it.
Too much cheddar.
It says right here, a Skyer is a thick and creamy Icelandic yogurt.
That's been a provision of Icelanders for a thousand years.
So he's Icelandic.
I guess I would probably.
But oh, so yeah, yogurt and cheese.
Yeah.
Jesus.
Why don't you just ask him for it?
His ass is going to blow out.
Break the toilet.
Okay.
And detect a nuclear fallout near his house.
I was like, what the fuck was that?
And I feel bad for if he lives with anybody, the smell.
It's going to be bad.
That's why he even knows the visits not going to be nice.
Shit's going to visit him and it's not going to be a nice visit.
Those after workout shit still are brutal, aren't they?
Didn't someone say that somewhere like when you start walking or running regularly, all
of a sudden you just have like these fucking mad shits.
Yeah.
So man, if he's a fucking jogger at all, I'm afraid to hop on the treadmill now.
Before you know it, I'm just blowing like, well, how much shit have I eaten?
Well, there's also those videos.
I don't know if you've seen them where it's like a marathon runners where they shit themselves
when they're running.
And that's the last thing I want to watch on ever.
Let me just look up people.
Shit.
Just there's no control anymore.
Wasn't there a video of some woman?
She was a marathon runner.
She just fucking dropped trial in some dude's house.
And his front yard dumped it and left.
And he fucking like either sued her or tried to have her arrested or something.
Yeah.
Indecent exposure.
Yeah.
Shitting.
That's the main one.
I remember that story on Twitter.
He was justified though.
I wouldn't want nobody or shit in my yard.
Yeah, I don't want to be fucking shitting in my fucking front yard.
Fuck that.
No.
Grown woman shit.
But that's all I got for Reddit today.
Anything else to add before we head out?
I don't know.
Sometimes I wonder if this is all just a simulation.
Am I Neo in the Matrix?
No, don't worry.
You're the...
I'm Morpheus.
You're the background character.
The background character.
You're the one that gets killed first.
Just get riddled with fucking bullets for no reason.
Exactly.
Who knows?
All right.
Well, we'll see you guys on the next one then.
Oh, we won't.
Bye.