Ned Hardy - Page 8 of 418 - Curating The Best Stuff from The Internet

Which One Are You? The Effects Of Birth Order On Personality

May 1, 2013 | No Comments » | Topics: Uncategorized |

birth order

The Husband Store

May 1, 2013 | No Comments » | Topics: LOL |

husband store

A brand new store has just opened in New York City that sells Husbands.
When women go to choose a husband, they have to follow the instructions at the entrance:

You may visit this store ONLY ONCE! There are 6 floors and the value of
the products increase as you ascend the flights. You may choose any item
from a particular floor, or may choose to go up to the next floor, but you
CANNOT go back down except to exit the building.

So, a woman goes to the Husband Store to find a husband.
The 1st floor sign on the door reads:
Floor 1: These men have jobs.
The 2nd floor sign reads:
Floor 2: These men have Jobs and Love Kids.
The 3rd floor sign reads:
Floor 3: These men have Jobs, Love Kids and are extremely good looking.
“Wow,” she thinks, but feels compelled to keep going.
She goes to the 4th floor and the sign reads:
Floor 4: These men Have Jobs, Love Kids, are Drop-dead Good Looking and help with Housework.
“Oh, mercy me!” she exclaims, “I can hardly stand it!”
Still, she goes to the 5th floor and sign reads:
Floor 5: These men Have Jobs, Love Kids, are Drop-dead Gorgeous, help with Housework and Have a Strong Romantic Streak.

She is so tempted to stay, but she goes to the 6th floor and the sign reads:
Floor 6: You are visitor 31,456,012 to this floor.
There are no men on this floor.
This floor exists solely as proof that women are impossible to please.
Thank you for shopping at the Husband Store.

To avoid gender bias charges, the store’s owner opens a New Wives store just across the street.
The 1st first floor has wives that love sex.
The 2nd floor has wives that love sex and have money.
The 3rd,4th, 5th and 6th floors have never been visited.

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A Day In The Life Of A Schizophrenic

May 1, 2013 | No Comments » | Topics: Uncategorized |

schizophrenic

by lit-lover

Let me run you through a day in the life of my personal brand of schizophrenia:

7:00 am: Wake up and lay in bed for awhile. Although I live alone, I hear footsteps throughout my apartment. I start wondering whether someone broke in during the night, so I get up to check the lock. Not only is the dead bolt still latched, but the chain is also still in tact; however, the footsteps are still in the kitchen, and I have to check the door and whole apartment at least three more times be sure I’m alone.

7:30 am: I’m taking a nice hot bath, but, as the water is running, I hear a conversation happening just outside the door. I know no one is there because I’ve checked the door, but I can’t help but hear a few people debating about the use of leather vs. cloth seats in cars. I dip my head under the water and try to ignore what’s not there.

8:00 am: Is there something crawling on my leg? When I look down to inspect, there’s nothing. This will happen at least once every half hour throughout the day, so I won’t continue mentioning it.

9:00 am: I’m eating breakfast, and I taste metal when I’m eating my toast, so much so that I can’t finish my food.

10:00 am: I’m walking to campus, and the way gravity is pulling me goes from under my feet to slightly off-kilter to the right. I feel like I’m going to fall over because something is pulling me that way, so I need to sit down and wait out my equilibrium resetting itself with my head in my hands to keep myself from puking from the dizziness.

10:30 am: The voice in my head named Nero starts telling me, as a response to girls walking slowly in a group in front of me on the sidewalk, that I should disembowel one, choke the second with her intestines, and curb stomp the third while she cries from watching her friends die. I try my hardest to ignore him, but the voice gets louder and more demanding, even after I have already passed the girls.

11:15 am: As I sit on the toilet, the tiles of the floor start to get larger and smaller, which almost makes me sick.

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