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Shufflingdead > Articles > School
See ya ladder Chef Torte Charley Boy Trebeky!
The Magic Reflection Pool of My Brain
 | Hiroshi Yamauchi, former president of Nintendo, provided me with the "good stuff." |
That's right, the elusive web master who runs this deliciously delectable piece of the internet has graduated. I shall now talk about myself for awhile, as it makes me feel old and wise.
It's been 12 long, arduous years since first I entered that little brick building where all my dreams would be crushed and my life molded into something sort of close to almost normal. Who could have guessed that I would have made great accomplishments like updating a website almost every week, beaten Super Mario RPG at least twenty times, worn virtually the same thing every single day, or, the greatest of all my feats, received a "Certificate of Participation" from Fitness Canada.
Of course, not everything would turn out to be an amazing achievement, there were disappointments as well. I have yet to take over the world, as I once imagined would be quite easy, sexual intercourse eludes both my grasp and massive tongue, and I don't own a copy of every single Legend of Zelda game ever produced.
Through it all though, a double jointed thumb, a funny little jig, a trusty Nintendo console, and a gang of misfits and rapscallions have all stayed with me, accompanying me through the "trials and tribulations" of grade school in Western Canadian suburbia.
The Only Reason Anybody Graduates
 | A raging Grad party. |
Endless struggle, pain and suffering, everything feels completely worth it thanks to one night of insanity. I will now tell you how a grad night should go.
No "Grad party" should ever be planned. To begin a proper Grad party, you and your gang of hooligans should run around inviting everyone they know to a random persons house right when everybody’s ready to go home or to other "planned" parties. Upon arriving at the so called "little shop of horrors" everyone should pool together all of their hard earned moneys and or pre bought alcoholic beverages so as to supply maximum drunken sex machines. This is the only tool you will need, besides masses of people, to get a party going.
It is likely that your party will start out slowly. At first only you and your close nit clan will be around to destroy brain cells, do not fret! While some less intelligent fellows may leave early out of boredom or the need to work the next morning, you must remain! After awhile great masses of drunken women and their hair dresser deprived boyfriends will arrive. Droves of females, craving 211 inch cock will flow through your poor friends house. Remember, these are not your average ladies, they like guys who "don't talk and convey being a prick through telepathy."
Hour after hour, the very house you have chosen will seem almost human as unidentified objects fly in and out of its orifices, as great thumping and rocking sounds emanate from deep within, and, as with all large wooden structures and drunk peoples, eventually fall to the ground in a bloody, sweaty pool of filth.
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