Archive for cunty fuck fuck

Free Vegan Porn!!!

Posted in Things Rank And Gross In Nature with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on September 27, 2008 by Buck Frain

I’m interrupting the important series on share-house living to bring you this important bulletin. I have discovered a new and exciting genre in the diverse realm that is pornography – VEGAN PORN!!!

I felt it was only fitting to try and give something to all those people who have stumbled onto this site looking for wank fodder and have felt ripped off because it was all just obscene language and spite.

Vegan porn is pretty out there but it is new and entirely meat-free  with no connection whatsoever with animal products or flesh of any kind. I have included two examples from my own extensive vegan porn library and I can safely say that no animals were in anyway involved in its production, unless I count because I took the photos and I’m made of meat.

My first example is this nubile, barely-legal, virgin poppy. Ooh yeah, she’s young and she’s gagging for it.

 

And my second is this one below – my favourite TILF (Tree I’d Like to Fuck) Just look at this mucky old slapper, she’s bang up for it any old time! This dirty old bitch has been around and seen it all – just count the rings!!!   

 

You people are fuckin’ sick, they’re plants! JESUS!!! No, seriously, I don’t judge anyone for their sexual orientation. Whatever floats your boat – ya sick fucks! By the way, if anyone has any more vegan porn whether it’s floraginas, cuntrees or rootable fruits, I’d be really interested in it – from a purely academic standpoint, you understand. Please send all herbaceous whacking material to buck.frain@gmail.com  If it’s any good I may even post it here – I’ll credit you, of course! Stay freaky!

Tumour Boy Vs. Spaz Hand

Posted in Things Rank And Gross In Nature with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on September 11, 2008 by Buck Frain

 

Until recently, I had a vaguely repugnant growth on my wrist. It was a hard lump, a nodule about the size of a pea. It had been there for a few years and was originally scar tissue from an ancient and very trivial injury that, instead of having the decency to fade away like Andrew Ridgeley, decided it wanted more of the limelight like Kate Ceberano and began to build itself into my conjoined twin. There was no real problem with it being there other than it wasn’t paying rent and it grossed people, most importantly women, out. So, on the tried-and-true principle that chicks dig scars more than benign fibrous tumours, I decided to have it lopped off.

 

A simple plan to be sure, went in for day surgery, surgeon cut it out – ugly fuckin’ thing, looked like a Cronenberg version of the ball that rattles ‘round in a referee’s whistle. Sadly, he wouldn’t let me keep it, I wanted to sell it on eBay – stitched it up with three little sutures and that was it.

 

I had an appointment with the surgeon a week later to have the stitches taken out. Hmm…fuck that, I thought. Why pay some over-educated git $50 to take out stitches? Anyone can take stitches out, I’ll take the bastards out myself. I sterilized the nail scissors and took out the stitches – easy. Feeling terribly proud of myself I leant back and stretched my hands out in front of me and pop!

 

Fuck! I’d ruptured the wound and now had a gaping hole in my wrist rapidly filling with thick gelatinous blood. Whoa! Strangely, it didn’t hurt but it did make me feel decidedly queasy. I locked up the house and made off to the nearest hospital’s emergency department.

 

There really is no-one like a doctor to making you feel like a twat. I had to ‘fess up to taking out my own stitches and toolishly popping the wound open. The doctor did his disapproving head-shake. Do they learn that in university? Bed-side manner 101 – patronising head-shakes and knowing sighs. Yes, I feel stupid already, my blood is coming out, now shut up and do your job! It turned out that the wound was unclean and needed to be debrided. Ah! No, not my fault! Get fucked! I kept it clean, I fuckin’ did everything I was supposed to, don’t even go there! The fucking stupid surgeon I originally saw fucked up the wound by putting in pissy superficial stitches on the surface of the wound so that beneath the skin it wasn’t held together at all. The wrist is a joint, it flexes, it needed stronger stitches, it wasn’t my cunting fault at all! But would anyone listen to that? Of course not. I took the stitches out myself so everything is my fault. Bah! It’s all cunts!

 

So after cleaning the wound out with a vigour usually reserved for removing baked-on scrambled eggs from old pans, he stitched it up with one hardcore suture and I was on my way with a new dressing and an appetite for codeine.

 

Out of hospital, off to the city. Getting off the tram, trying to avoid getting my throbbing wrist bumped by shit-licking, fuck-faced, spatially-unaware Joes Public who couldn’t wait for people to exit the tram before cramming themselves onto it, I lost my balance. Lurching forward, I reached for a handrail to stop my fall out of the tram, which I misjudged like a fuckstick, catching the back of my thumb on the handrail and following it with the bulk of my body weight. The thumb bent around underneath my hand until it gave a barely perceptible snapping sound. FUCK! FUCK! FUCKING CUNTING BASTARD!!! I cannot express quite how much it hurt. I’m unsure if I was swearing out loud or just muttering incoherently but I shambled around at the tram stop for a few minutes as the pain shot up my arm and my hand blew up into an udder with finger-teats.

 

Gradually, I relaxed enough to do some basic first-aidy tests to see how much mobility/strangth I had. They all hurt really really badly, the thumb was definitely cunted – I crossed the tram tracks and went back to hospital.

 

Same doctor, more humiliation, X-rays. He actually laughed at me and said: You’re not having a very good day, are you? Yes I am actually, sluthead, I normally spend my days with my head up a pig’s rectum and skewers in my testicles so today’s bitching! CUNT!!! No, I nodded and gave a courteous laugh – this guy could still hurt me.

 

The X-rays came back: the thumb was not broken, that’d be too easy – 4 to 6 weeks in plaster? Nah! I have a partial tear to a ligament which is painful but sounds really minor and wussy, and means I have to wear a cast for 8 weeks!

 

Brilliant! Just cunting well brilliant!!! I have to look after my right wrist – not too much lifting or movement there for a week or two and I have a cunting great nylon cast on my left hand and forearm for the next two months. I am domestic comedy. Watch Buck shower! Ha ha!!! See Buck wash the dishes. How many will he break today? Ah, he’s such a cunt!

 

Any sympathy votes I may have scored for the wrist have evaporated with the thumb, it’s too pitiful to be anything but fuckheadedness. I am just a loser now, a figure for ridicule and scorn. That may have never been any other way but the perception was never quite so focused on the truth as it is now. Fuck you, tumours! Fuck you, gravity! Fuck you, the medical profession! FUCK!!!

 

 

Desperately Seeking Cunty Fuck Fuck.

Posted in Tourist Attractions That Suck with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on September 5, 2008 by Buck Frain


I usually steer away from talking about my blog. It’s pretentious and self-referential and it breaks my fourth wall, revealing me as just another lonely twat with a nerd-box typing unread nothings into the ether of cyberspace in a vain attempt to stave off the suicidal meaninglessness of existence in an emotionally and morally bankrupt empire-in-decline at the twilight of my species.

 

Morning, bitches, how are YOU feeling today?

 

Enough self-pity – it’s winter and I’m sick a-cunting-gain so get fucked!

 

I’ve been stewing on this for a while but seeing as I’ve now had over 25,000 page views I figured I should share some of this stuff with you – the readers who made it happen. For those of you not from here, wordpress is a wonderful place and provides me with all sorts of interesting tools to see where my traffic is coming from. Sounds exciting, huh? I say traffic and you imagine lanes and lanes of speeding vehicles glinting in the sunlight as they cruise sleekly up information super-highways on their way to infinity but that’s not quite what it’s like, you should probably picture the occasional lonely, dented, curb-crawling sedan coughing its way around a dimly lit cul-de-sac before being chased away by armed, angry crack-whore-trannies – it’s closer to the truth.

 

However, returning to my point, I did have one, it wasn’t just the cold and flu tablets speaking – How people find me – I’m constantly amazed by the terms people type into search engines that lead them to me. It’s become something of an obsession now because so many of them either freak me out or make me laugh. I’ve no idea how search engines work but I get a real kick out of this so here’s some of my faves: 

 

  •  Kyle Sandilands is a cunt – yes he is. This fills me with joy every time it comes up, which is quite often.
  • Wank me, mum – oh dear. This wasn’t what you were looking for at all, was it? Did you zip the pants back up and read on or did you leave and go somewhere else? 
  • Pounding freak hardcore – Hmm…another disappointment, I fear. 
  • Sluthead – Brilliant! I never knew anyone other than my brother ever used this word.
  • Cut Scrotum – If you’ve cut the bag, what the cunt are you doing Googling it? Did I help or did you bleed out under yopur computer desk? Fuck it! Dial 000, people!
  • Fellatiophobia – I thought I invented that word but it’s out there. Is it a real phobia? I’ve no idea. Genius!
  • Cunty fuck fuck – I have no idea what prompts this as a search term but it is absolutely brilliant. I love that someone found me using this. What were you looking for? Were you disappointed? Did you ever return? I would love to hear the story of how cunty fuck fuck came to be typed into a search engine.

 

I feel I’ve firmly carved out a niche for myself at the bottom of that barrel that is the internet. If you type something dodgy into a search engine, sooner or later you’ll find me. This makes me happy. It’s where I belong. Whether you came here looking for a crafty 3G phone-wank or because you enjoy a good bitch about the injustices and annoyances of the world I welcome you. I hope you enjoy your stay, feel free to invite your friends. To the people who think I’m some kind of sicko, psycho and/or a menace to society: I laugh at your sad existence and hope someone shits in your letterbox.