Can we get an armpit list like we had for the buttholes and bussys please? Like who’s got the most discolored pits… the sweatiest… the stinkiest… c’mon guys there’s so much we could be doing here!! We’re missing out on too many discussions!! Don’t even get me started about their feet.

After years of listening to ReddX, I've decided to throw my story out there for the internet cringe-connoisseurs to feast upon. Cast lists aren't necessary, TLDR is at the end. Let's just get this show on the road.
Tinder is hell. That hasn't stopped me from bludgeoning myself against the towering wall of losers that people swear Prince Charming is hiding among. I do realize that Tinder probably isn't the ideal place to find a real relationship, but I remain optimistic for a reason that I can't fully explain. Maybe it's just for a lack of anything better to do. Perhaps it's fear of dying alone. The people and experiences have ranged from lackluster to outright horrifying, and to start this series off... I will chronicle one of the deepest mental scars for the edu-tainment of any and all internet strangers. Given hindsight, the signs were all there... I should've bailed, but I tried to power through. And I came away with a true tale of terror.
It all started with the swipe, as these things often do. The profile was fairly non-descript as I recall. A bio that was clearly copy/pasted from Tinder and 3 or 4 photos that made it seem like he was someone who knew how to have some fun. He was smiling despite his teeth looking a bit worse for the wear. He was a bit chunky but seemed comfortable with himself. Those are both things that go a very long way for me. I didn't give the swipe very much thought beyond that, but we did match and he slid directly into the messages. His first message was a play on my first name. He said he wanted to wake up to the crack of Dawn or something like that. Not the first time I've heard it. Won't be the last. He might be a fuckboy, but maybe he was just taking a risk to break the ice... I wanted answers, so I decided to dig in and see what he was really all about.
He introduced himself as Dean. The conversation was largely uninteresting, until I mentioned that I'm a baker for work. This led into a long diatribe about how he was a trad alpha male that was looking for a woman who was worth the effort to take care of. He claimed that I'd be a great mother because of my ability to cook, and then went on to describe how cute our kids would look. I stopped responding and let him continue to spin his wheels for a while. He did continue on for much longer than would normally be socially acceptable, but I thought maybe he was just nervous. Eventually he caught the hint that I was starting to disengage completely. Honestly? I should've followed through with the ghosting. But he showed contrition and apologized, so I let the interaction continue.
He managed to keep his human-mask firmly affixed after the almost-ghosting. He was remarkably good at acting like a genuine person. We talked about our life and experiences for around a full month before deciding that we probably should meet up at some point. During that month he wasn't pushy or weird. Dean had taken the unspoken hint and remained on his best behavior. Once a possible date was agreed on, he jumped at the chance to take the lead in deciding where we were going, but then mentioned that he didn't have a car and needed to be picked up. I sighed. It may be that trad alpha males have better things to do than driving a car. They have people for that sort of thing. Barefoot, pregnant people. When he decides to let her out of the kitchen, that is. Obviously that's all hyperbole. I think.
So yes. I should've run. I know I should've run... but remember what I said about hindsight? Stupid me agreed to pick him up. I asked where we were going and he insisted that I was in for a surprise because we were headed to his favorite restaurant. I shrugged and decided to go with the flow. I spent a good few hours getting ready on the day of our date. I wasn't particularly eager to impress Dean, but it had been a little while since I was able to have a night out on the town and I decided to make the most of it. I showed up about 15 minutes early to the date, which is something that I do often. I take that time to decompress and relax and maybe even second-guess myself... Lord how I wish I would've second-guessed myself a little bit harder on this day.
The 15 minutes flies by, and I finally decided to roll up in front of the ramshackle house that he occupies. It looked like a flop-house. The yard was dead where it wasn't completely overgrown, the roof was missing more tiles than not, and there was a curious amount of children's toys strewn around. Dean hadn't mentioned any kids. Regardless of the red-flag parade that was marching before my eyes, I figured that I was already here. I might as well give the guy a chance. So I leaned on the horn to summon Dean. There was no response. Maybe I have the wrong house? Maybe I've been catfished? Maybe I should just go home? ...Yes, I should've just gone home. I didn't though. Instead, I got out of the car to go knock on the peeling paint of that front door, while saying a small prayer that I wasn't kidnapped and sold off into white slavery.
As I slowly crept up the cracked walkway, the weeds reached up from every crevice. They were trying to hold me back from that door, but I persisted in my quest for dating mediocrity. I could hear the screams of children inside. Were they the ghosts of the future I was dooming myself to? Feasibly. Regardless, I reached the door and knocked. A large Armenian woman answered the door. She was built like a refrigerator and about the hairiest woman you can imagine. She raised her upper lip in a sneer, her mustache bunching up enough to tickle the frontal cortex of any lesser being.
"Barev?" she grunted, a few decibels too loud. Our town has a large Armenian population, so I knew that meant hello.
"Hello ma'am. I'm looking for Dean. We're supposed to go on a date tonight." I meekly explained.
She grunted again, spun on her heels and bellowed something that I won't even try to decipher. Presumably she was calling Dean. I wasn't aware that he lived with his parents. As mama legbeard disappeared into the house, she had left the door open. I realized that a small crowd had gathered near the doorway. At least 5 dead-eyed children drinking a dark-colored liquid from bottles that they were clearly too old for were muttering amongst themselves. I waved a greeting but they only retreated further into the darkness of the hovel. I wasn't sure what to do at this point, so I closed the door and walked back to my car.
Part of me wanted to gun it down the street and make a break for it, seeking the comfort of my own relative normalcy... But I didn't. I sat and waited. I doomscrolled on my phone for around 30 minutes before debating if I should knock again. I didn't want to knock. So I leaned on the horn instead. I was giving him 5 more minutes. If he wasn't here at that point, I'd take myself out for a nice meal. That probably would've been the more enjoyable option anyways.
Five minutes passed, and I turned the key in the ignition. What a waste of time, what a bunch of bullshit. I shifted the car into gear, cranked the wheel to pull off of the sidewalk when suddenly... Dean flung the front door open and waddled toward my vehicle. I didn't feel any relief at this. He was at least 50 pounds heavier than he was in his Tinder photos. If it looked like he put any effort into actually getting ready, I might be more understanding about the situation, but it looked like this dude had just rocked up out of bed. It wasn't just his hair that was disheveled. He wore striped pajama pants, stained and threadbare My Hero Academia t-shirt, and the rattiest pair of slip-on Vans I've ever seen.
Again, should've hit the gas. Should've driven myself right into a telephone pole. Any EMT that came to pick me up would be a better alternative, even if our date was just to the emergency room. Instead I stared in shock as this pigman wandered towards my vehicle and let himself in. The car lurched to the passenger side as he plopped down, clearly out of breath from the short trip down his walkway. His heavy breathing carried distinct notes of halitosis, and that fetid breath only combined with the scent of unwashed rotting ballsack as the air he displaced from the seat started swimming around the car. I was speechless. This was not the date that I had signed up for. My stare continued as Dean began his rambling introduction.
"Hey Dawn! Sorry to make you wait. I had a pretty crazy night last night with my gaming crew. I set an alarm for our date, but I usually don't wake up until my mom starts yelling at me. It's good to make a woman wait anyways. They do it to us, so why shouldn't guys do it right back?" he chortled.
Words were still unable to escape my lips. Instead, the only sound that came out was similar to that girl from The Grudge. Seeing that I wasn't going to engage with that, Dean shifted topics.
"Oh, my bad. I probably shouldn't reveal all of my dating secrets. Tonight I will reveal a big one to you though..." he paused pointedly, and I shifted my eyes to stare at the steering wheel instead. He continued "The big secret is the place I take all the girls on our first date. It's my favorite seafood restaurant!"
I didn't really want to eat seafood. I didn't really want to be seen with Dean or even to continue existing near him in any capacity... But sometimes the social contract twists your arm about this kind of thing, particularly if you're a woman who was raised to behave a certain way. All I had to say was "Get the hell out of my car, you absolute wreck of a human being." It could've all been over if I said that. But I didn't. Instead I asked him to put on his seatbelt. He whined, saying that seatbelts were "for little beta bitches." But I refused to be ticketed over an ego so fragile that a seatbelt could bruise it. I told him he could buckle it or get out. Unfortunately, he did decide to buckle up... And the cringe-train rolled onward.
Dean barked out instructions while regaling me with all types of insider knowledge about "what women actually want, and how they don't know what they want, and how it takes a strong man to lead them to water and force them to drink. For their own good, you see?" All I could manage was a series of disinterested "oh" and "okay" and "jesus christ". He did not get the hint. I wanted to just melt away. Why was I in this situation? Why was I letting it continue? How could someone seem so normal and even perceptive online and then reveal themselves as a complete mess in person
I should've questioned him but didn't have much to add to his monologue, since my own inner-thoughts were spiraling out of control... and I couldn't get a word in edgewise anyways. Maybe he could turn it around and we'd have a nice conversation when we got to the restaurant. He's probably just looking for someone to help him become the best version of himself. If this didn't go well, I told myself a thousand times that I'd never find myself in another situation like this again... Isn't it funny how we lie to ourselves?
Anyways, eventually Dean screeched for me to stop and find a place to park. I complied. I didn't have the energy to argue. It might be because of the lack of oxygen. Throughout this 10 minute trip my car had become inundated with Dean's stench. Imagine rotten sour cream wrapped in a piece of moldy Havarti cheese, sprinkled with sweat from a mountain troll. Little did I know, that wasn't the worst of the night though. Not by a long shot.
Finally snapping out of my daze, I looked around to see the secret seafood restaurant that had only been talked about in hushed whispers. I'll give you a moment to guess for yourself what the place was. Not some well-kept secret as he had implied. It wasn't a quaint hole-in-the-wall, it wasn't even a Red fucking Lobster. We had just pulled up into the parking lot... of a Long John Silver's. Have you ever been to a Long John Silver's? Maybe. Have you ever been to a Long John Silver's by choice? Ew. It's fastfood seafood and it is just... The worst "food" that you could possibly put into your mouth. This can't be real life. We have just lost cabin pressure. We are headed directly into freefall. Finally I found my voice. "What the fuck is this?"
Dean unabashedly said "Long John Silver's, duh. It's the best seafood in town by a long shot, the pricing is also pretty good so you can eat as much as you want." He continued barreling through, extolling the virtues of Long John Silver's as I reluctantly followed him inside. He didn't bother holding the door open. It isn't necessary, but it can be a nice gesture. Instead he bounced up to the counter and started rattling off his order to the worker drone stationed at the register. It was a long order. He ordered enough to feed 5 or 6 people. I thought maybe he was ordering for both of us, until he turned and asked "Did you want anything?" I choked out a number representing one of their combo meals, and tried to hand him $10.
He made a great show of refusing the ten dollars, proclaiming that a lady should never have to pay for her own meal. The worker drone stared on, looking about as vacant as I felt. I think Dean expected the restaurant to start clapping at his chivalrous gesture. Instead the drone went back to scrolling on his phone, and I found a place to sit. When Dean flopped into the seat next to me, I asked if he could please sit across from me instead. He ignored that request, extending a flabby arm across my shoulders, rubbing his putrid armpit on the shoulder of a blouse that I really liked, but later had to burn...
"It's a first date. We should get close, y'know. Get to know each other?" he drawled.
"Go and sit over there Dean, or I'm leaving." I finally insisted. "I have no idea how the date got this far. You don't even look like your picture!"
His ego was hurt now. He rambled on about how "the picture was actually him, he just Photoshopped it a little, and girls do it too. Why do these bitches on dating apps have to be so shallow? Probably just looking for a Chad to take them home and rearrange their guts. Women should be submissive and that means not being choosy. They should feel honored that any man would deign to take them on as a responsibility."
Eventually, all I heard was a high-pitched whining in my ears as I had a Vietnam flashback to all the niceguys and neckbeards that I had run across in high-school. It was the same speech they all seem to end up giving, verbatim. I sat with my head in my hands and he didn't stop this auditory assault until our number was called. He fetched his food, came back to the table, made another trip, and then a third... Until finally he flopped down across from me and said "Yours is still up there, if you want it."
I was ready to boil. "I don't want it Dean. I wanted to have a nice date, but instead I ended up at a fucking Long John Silver's with a big FAT fucking catfish." I expected him to come right back at me with all the rage and fury of an incel scorned, but instead he just walked up to the counter. Brought the tray back, and began to ravage the meal that I had ordered. It sounded like rhinoceros crap being sucked down a bathtub plug hole that had been severely clogged with pubic hair that had been matted together by decades of cum spent on myriad anime waifus. I covered my ears. I fumed. I wanted to cry, but I would not allow this creature to break my will.
I hadn't said more than 20 words during this entire date, and I wasn't about to start talking now. Besides, Dean seemed perfectly happy to just hoover up every speck of greasy fried seafood in relative silence. All I could do was sit and glare. My stare had turned into a glare, and there is a subtle difference... But I don't think Dean was equipped enough to detect that shift. For minutes on end I simply watched the spectacle unfolding before me. He chomped and glorped and gobbled until he had decimated everything that lay before him. Then he sat back and unbuckled his belt while patting his engorged stomach. Disgusting.
"Seems like you really enjoyed that." I said sarcastically as I got up and started heading to the car. He jiggled after me outside like a very overfed and very stupid puppy. Again, I said nothing. I got in and started the car. Right as I was going to peel out and let him walk off that greasy feast he had consumed, Dean wrenched the door open and buttslammed into the seat. As he did, he let out a rather large fart and started giggling like a child. "Good thing I didn't let that one rip in the restaurant!" he chuckled. I was not amused. Yeah. Just let it rip in my fucking car instead you abomination. My patience had been stretched to its breaking point, but I didn't say so. I was simply ready to get this dumpster fire over with. Surely the worst of our interaction was over now, right? We could just part ways and never speak again, right? I never expected that my poor car would be left with one more souvenir that fateful night. Something far more disgusting than Dean's stench.
We pulled out and bounced down the road. The windows were promptly rolled down, which I suppose Dean took as an invitation to continue his butt-orchestra. He'd fart and laugh every couple of minutes. I can't begin to fathom the reason. Either he's given up like I have, or he's trying to rebuild bridges in the worst way possible... Either way, I sped down the streets. Freedom was calling my name and I wanted to get this guy out of my car so I could disinfect, sanitize, deodorize, and cleanse not just my car... But myself as well.
We were in the home stretch. Another minute or two and we'd be rid of each other. Then I noticed that Dean had gotten very quiet. His face turning a strange shade of green. I thought he was going to throw up, but it was even worse than that. As we headed down his street, I hit a speedbump. The jolt must have stirred something in Dean, because he let out another fart... This one sounded different than the others however... It was low and wet. It sounded like a choked blast from a tuba that had been stuffed to the brim with congealed mayonnaise.
Dean did not chuckle like before. Instead, his face shifted from green to a blushing red. I slowly looked over at him and the smell hit me. Rancid greasy sick people poop. The kind of poop that comes out of a sick and dying person right before they kick the bucket... My eyes widened as realization dawned on me. I started to scream all of the frustration that had built up over the night right into Dean's stupid fat face. What I said wasn't really words, it was pure emotion. A screech of incredulity, pain, confusion, and of course the disappointment that I'm sure his mother felt every single day of her life.
We were still down the street from his house. Maybe another 50 yards away... But instead I mashed the brakes and continued slamming him with a nonsensical torrent of emotion. Dean wasn't going to sit around for that. He fumbled with the door, let himself out of the car, leaned back in to tell me he had a lovely time before I gave him one more resounding, hate-fueled "FUCK OFF!" And so he did. I watched him waddle his way back home, the greasy brown stain on the back of his pants only growing with each step. I looked down at the passenger seat. It would never be the same again. I hate to go into any more disgusting detail, but suffice it to say... There was splashback. The diarrhea fountain had stained not just the bucket, but it had spurted up the back of the seat as well.
I cried. Sitting there in that disgusting car, I had a long ugly cry with the windows still fully down. I considered approaching Dean's mother for money to get my car reupholstered, but given the state of the house? I'm not sure she had much to give on behalf of her son, even if by some miracle she was willing to do so... No. This was my problem to deal with now. I finished crying. I drove home. I spent weeks having to stare at that stain, but eventually I was able to buy a completely "new" seat from the junkyard. No more ghost-Dean sitting passenger and laughing at his own honking asshole.
I'm still amazed at how this specimen managed to lure me into a date. While I was far too passive, I'm going to mark that down as inexperience. I'd be much more bold in the future. I did tell myself that I'd never get on Tinder again after this experience. It's by far the worst interaction that I've had with another human being. Ever. But eventually the allure of online dating called me back, and I do have even more stories to tell... But those are tales for another day... Thanks to ReddX if he reads this. Please subscribe to him on YouTube if ya haven't. I'll see you again next time my little Tinderlings.
-Dawn
TL;DR After a terrible date, trad alpha male Tinder guy pooped in my car.

So, being pregnant has caused me to be the hairiest I have ever been.. trying to find something to make it easier to remove the hair I thought I would give nair a try… MISTAKE. Gave myself a horrible chemical burn on my armpit, I’m in horrendous pain and I’ve smothered my armpit in antibiotic ointment hoping it’ll calm the burning. I feel so dumb needless to say I will stick to the all natural look my last five months 😭

LEGEND
Steve - MC, friend, partner of Sarah
Sarah - friend, partner of Steve
Bob - friend, partner of Katie
Katie - friend, partner of Bob
Larry - friend, not physically in attendance
Julie - my wife
My name is John Doe. I am 40 years old. For those of you not paying attention, I am the hero of tonight’s story. But I am also a man of many flaws, some of which have been highlighted tonight by degenerates, perverts, and weaklings… and that’s just Steve.
But, while you were half-baking these witless taunts and outrageous allegations, did you ever stop to think just how wrong it was? Just how ridiculous it is for all of you to presume you could harp on the shortcomings of a man who is not only your senior… but your superior?
Think about who came up to speak tonight. Just think about it for a moment. These are true parasites, people. Real bloodsuckers. The remora fish to my great white shark. The oxpeckers to my African rhino. Ticks embedded in my perfect ass. Each and every one of them – a gray sprinkle on the rainbow cupcake of my life.
Speaking of cupcakes, Steve is here. The Gilligan to my Skipper. The Urkel to my Carl Winslow. If you attended my wedding, you might recognize this forgettable little fellow, as Steve and his dull personality MC’ed my wedding. Steve’s speeches were so great, weren’t they? His performance at my wedding really managed to combine the thrill of talking with the excitement of just standing there.
You know, it’s been an overwhelming evening, and I’m just now taking in the whole picture. Good lord, this is an ugly group of people. I mean, there are some truly repugnant faces in this group. Shit, you know the crowd is ugly when we bring in Steve as the eye candy.
Fun fact about Steve: he has been featured not once, but TWICE on the cover of Little Twerps magazine. In his final year of high school, Steve was voted “Most Likely to Grow Pubes.” Steve, I know that you CAN grow a mustache… I’m just not sure God intended to check that box.
But listen, I owe Steve a huge thank-you, as it was he who introduced me to the joy of playing Frisbee, as well as the deep displeasure of playing Frisbee with him. Truly a monumental achievement for such a microscopic young man.
Bob is here tonight. Now, I WOULD roast Bob but it’s just going to end up smelling like burnt hair in here. Bob, you might just be the hairiest French person I’ve ever seen. You look like a Sasquatch that got trapped in a poutine dumpster. Bob is like the missing link that no one’s been trying to find. They just look at him and go, “two billion years of evolution… for this?”
Bob has been called the “Brad Pitt of Oshawa”… No, I’m sorry. I beg your pardon. That should have been the “armpit of Oshawa.” You look like if sweatpants were a person. Or if homeless sweatpants were a thing.
Hey, don’t look now, but Bob’s gotten hairier since I started talking.
Speaking of intrusive hair development, Sarah is here. Sarah is such an aggressive feminist that she’s taking everything back from men – starting with the mustache. Sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you, Sarah. But it was a huge plus.
Hey, did you see that guy from the video earlier? Did you know there’s ANOTHER one of him? Larry, you and your twin brother are the reason gene pools need lifeguards. They say that twins are, “twice the blessing, twice the fun, two miracles instead of one.” Frankenstein was a miracle and they stabbed his ass to death with pitchforks.
Now, if you pan your vision slightly to the right, you’ll come across a truly unique specimen: the hipster. Katie is such a hipster that if a tree fell in the forest and no one was around to hear it, she’d try to buy it on vinyl. Katie looks like if a can of PBR was in a vintage clothing store explosion. Katie looks like if a veggie burger opened an avocado toast shop that only sells lo-fi lattes, steampunk smoothies, and quirky, sustainable, off-menu acai bowls garnished with vegan pour-over coffee whiffs, served on an edible yoga mat.
Finally, I come to my wife – Julie. A woman with the grace of a swan, the beauty of a sunset, and the IQ of a salad bar. A woman who graduated university with a 4.0 - out of 100.0. A thought once tried to cross Julie’s mind but it didn’t make it.
Progressive. Visionary. Avant-garde. These are all words that Julie uses incorrectly.
I was going to describe Julie using a lot of four-letter words but her hard limit is three. Some of you know that her nickname is “Jul” – J-U-L. That’s not a nickname. That’s just as far as she gets trying to spell “Julie.”
I want to thank my wife for putting tonight’s event together. She reserved the space, sent out a dozen or so invites, and wrote her own speech. This took about 3 months and her work was really good about giving her the mental health days to do it.
No, but seriously, Julie, you have no idea how lucky I feel to have you in my life. It’s like the universe puts you with exactly who you need to be with. And as a natural-born bully, it’s only right that I get to spend my life with a shrimpy little dweeb like you.
OK. This is the part of the night where get sentimental but honestly, I’m bad at being sentimental. I’m no good when it comes to having normal relationships. For years, I’ve leaned on jokes and insults as a way to connect with others. And I’ll be the first to admit that it’s a risky way to make friends.
My jokes have offended many, maybe even some people in this room. I have been standoffish, confrontational, foul-mouthed, ill-mannered, snide, short, sassy, and sarcastic on too many inappropriate occasions to count.
I’m awkward. I’m hostile. I get antagonistic when the conversation turns too friendly. I demand attention and shut down when I’m over it. Not everyone “gets me.” I’m a tough friend to have and I completely understand why. Consider the way I act with my closest friends:
Whenever I call Bob a rude name, like “French asshole” or “Hairy Garcia.”
Whenever I deliberately forget the names of Sarah, Katie and that… twin guy that isn’t here.
Whenever I say that Julie makes me wonder if there’s a subreddit for bullying others.
Whenever I beat Steve into submission, making him cry in front of his family and friends, throwing him around in a way that should only be gravitationally possible on the Moon…
Look… I can be a dick. I know that. But the truth is – and I always struggle to get this across… It’s deliberate – all of it.
We’re all like fishermen on the Sea of Friendship, trying to catch tolerable fish to pass the time with. Dip your net in the water and you’re sure to pull in a good-sized haul. But use the right tool for the job, huh? If you wants lots of stinky little minnows and other garbage fish, use a net. If you want the RIGHT ones, bait your hook with bitter, rancid, awful-tasting shit, cast it out, and wait for the perfect fish to come along.
[pause] Just so I’m clear: y’all are fish that eat shit.
I am of the belief that life is not to be taken too seriously. That one’s misfortune can be funny, too. That you shouldn’t be so vulnerable to humor created at your own expense. That life is made better when you’re laughing with and at others, with and at yourself. And after 40 years of searching, I am grateful to be able to say that I have found my people to laugh with and at. Please never stop laughing with and at me, too.
Thank you for tonight, guys. And thank you for sucking.

LEGEND
Steve - MC, friend, partner of Sarah
Sarah - friend, partner of Steve
Bob - friend, partner of Katie
Katie - friend, partner of Bob
Larry - friend, not physically in attendance
Julie - my wife
My name is John Doe. I am 40 years old. For those of you not paying attention, I am the hero of tonight’s story. But I am also a man of many flaws, some of which have been highlighted tonight by degenerates, perverts, and weaklings… and that’s just Steve.
But, while you were half-baking these witless taunts and outrageous allegations, did you ever stop to think just how wrong it was? Just how ridiculous it is for all of you to presume you could harp on the shortcomings of a man who is not only your senior… but your superior?
Think about who came up to speak tonight. Just think about it for a moment. These are true parasites, people. Real bloodsuckers. The remora fish to my great white shark. The oxpeckers to my African rhino. Ticks embedded in my perfect ass. Each and every one of them – a gray sprinkle on the rainbow cupcake of my life.
Speaking of cupcakes, Steve is here. The Gilligan to my Skipper. The Urkel to my Carl Winslow. If you attended my wedding, you might recognize this forgettable little fellow, as Steve and his dull personality MC’ed my wedding. Steve’s speeches were so great, weren’t they? His performance at my wedding really managed to combine the thrill of talking with the excitement of just standing there.
You know, it’s been an overwhelming evening, and I’m just now taking in the whole picture. Good lord, this is an ugly group of people. I mean, there are some truly repugnant faces in this group. Shit, you know the crowd is ugly when we bring in Steve as the eye candy.
Fun fact about Steve: he has been featured not once, but TWICE on the cover of Little Twerps magazine. In his final year of high school, Steve was voted “Most Likely to Grow Pubes.” Steve, I know that you CAN grow a mustache… I’m just not sure God intended to check that box.
But listen, I owe Steve a huge thank-you, as it was he who introduced me to the joy of playing Frisbee, as well as the deep displeasure of playing Frisbee with him. Truly a monumental achievement for such a microscopic young man.
Bob is here tonight. Now, I WOULD roast Bob but it’s just going to end up smelling like burnt hair in here. Bob, you might just be the hairiest French person I’ve ever seen. You look like a Sasquatch that got trapped in a poutine dumpster. Bob is like the missing link that no one’s been trying to find. They just look at him and go, “two billion years of evolution… for this?”
Bob has been called the “Brad Pitt of Oshawa”… No, I’m sorry. I beg your pardon. That should have been the “armpit of Oshawa.” You look like if sweatpants were a person. Or if homeless sweatpants were a thing.
Hey, don’t look now, but Bob’s gotten hairier since I started talking.
Speaking of intrusive hair development, Sarah is here. Sarah is such an aggressive feminist that she’s taking everything back from men – starting with the mustache. Sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you, Sarah. But it was a huge plus.
Hey, did you see that guy from the video earlier? Did you know there’s ANOTHER one of him? Larry, you and your twin brother are the reason gene pools need lifeguards. They say that twins are, “twice the blessing, twice the fun, two miracles instead of one.” Frankenstein was a miracle and they stabbed his ass to death with pitchforks.
Now, if you pan your vision slightly to the right, you’ll come across a truly unique specimen: the hipster. Katie is such a hipster that if a tree fell in the forest and no one was around to hear it, she’d try to buy it on vinyl. Katie looks like if a can of PBR was in a vintage clothing store explosion. Katie looks like if a veggie burger opened an avocado toast shop that only sells lo-fi lattes, steampunk smoothies, and quirky, sustainable, off-menu acai bowls garnished with vegan pour-over coffee whiffs, served on an edible yoga mat.
Finally, I come to my wife – Julie. A woman with the grace of a swan, the beauty of a sunset, and the IQ of a salad bar. A woman who graduated university with a 4.0 - out of 100.0. A thought once tried to cross Julie’s mind but it didn’t make it.
Progressive. Visionary. Avant-garde. These are all words that Julie uses incorrectly.
I was going to describe Julie using a lot of four-letter words but her hard limit is three. Some of you know that her nickname is “Jul” – J-U-L. That’s not a nickname. That’s just as far as she gets trying to spell “Julie.”
I want to thank my wife for putting tonight’s event together. She reserved the space, sent out a dozen or so invites, and wrote her own speech. This took about 3 months and her work was really good about giving her the mental health days to do it.
No, but seriously, Julie, you have no idea how lucky I feel to have you in my life. It’s like the universe puts you with exactly who you need to be with. And as a natural-born bully, it’s only right that I get to spend my life with a shrimpy little dweeb like you.
OK. This is the part of the night where get sentimental but honestly, I’m bad at being sentimental. I’m no good when it comes to having normal relationships. For years, I’ve leaned on jokes and insults as a way to connect with others. And I’ll be the first to admit that it’s a risky way to make friends.
My jokes have offended many, maybe even some people in this room. I have been standoffish, confrontational, foul-mouthed, ill-mannered, snide, short, sassy, and sarcastic on too many inappropriate occasions to count.
I’m awkward. I’m hostile. I get antagonistic when the conversation turns too friendly. I demand attention and shut down when I’m over it. Not everyone “gets me.” I’m a tough friend to have and I completely understand why. Consider the way I act with my closest friends:
Whenever I call Bob a rude name, like “French asshole” or “Hairy Garcia.”
Whenever I deliberately forget the names of Sarah, Katie and that… twin guy that isn’t here.
Whenever I say that Julie makes me wonder if there’s a subreddit for bullying others.
Whenever I beat Steve into submission, making him cry in front of his family and friends, throwing him around in a way that should only be gravitationally possible on the Moon…
Look… I can be a dick. I know that. But the truth is – and I always struggle to get this across… It’s deliberate – all of it.
We’re all like fishermen on the Sea of Friendship, trying to catch tolerable fish to pass the time with. Dip your net in the water and you’re sure to pull in a good-sized haul. But use the right tool for the job, huh? If you wants lots of stinky little minnows and other garbage fish, use a net. If you want the RIGHT ones, bait your hook with bitter, rancid, awful-tasting shit, cast it out, and wait for the perfect fish to come along.
[pause] Just so I’m clear: y’all are fish that eat shit.
I am of the belief that life is not to be taken too seriously. That one’s misfortune can be funny, too. That you shouldn’t be so vulnerable to humor created at your own expense. That life is made better when you’re laughing with and at others, with and at yourself. And after 40 years of searching, I am grateful to be able to say that I have found my people to laugh with and at. Please never stop laughing with and at me, too.
Thank you for tonight, guys. And thank you for sucking.

Just a small win but sort of significant for me. I had a fwb come over to my place yesterday. I have had hairy legs before when he had been over but they were stubble growing out after shaving. This time, I only shaved my armpits (which I was planning to anyway, haven't gotten a trimmer yet) and my happy trail. My legs were the hairiest they have ever been and it was perfectly normal. I don't think he even noticed it although we were watching a movie naked and sort of snuggling. And I barely thought about it when he was over which is great.

Hi All,
I have been experiencing what feels like allergies, bites, hard welts and pimple like bumps on my skin for almost half a year. The strange thing is though that these bumps happen in exposed areas (face, scalp, neck, back shoulders) and UNEXPOSED areas (armpit, groin area where boxers completely cover, inner thigh). The strange thing is I also get these "welts" in my hairiest part of my scalp, like you couldn't notice it unless you touched it. This also only happens in my room, and when I lay down I feel a crawling sensation but don't see anything. I also wear a fleece to sleep but when I lay down in bed at night I can feel a crawling sensation under my fleece. Bumps sometimes appear throughout the night while I sit down near the bed.
I went on a vacation for 10 days then came back, thinking I'd be swarmed with marks if it were bed bugs or straight up seeing them, but I didn't get "bit" for the first few days. Then suddenly they appeared again. Usually in various places, one or two max.
Also when I am in the room, I feel a swarming sensation and feel like scratching next to the bed, not laying on it as well. Could this be from bed bugs giving out a histamine reaction in the air? I also plugged up all my outlets so I'm not sure if they're hiding in my walls. I feel like it could be mites since I see occasional tiny black and white specks on my bed, but I accustom that to dandruff or fabric from my clothes. I'm the only one feeling this sensation; friends and family who come and sit in my home or room don't feel anything. A friend has been coming over for months and did not notice bites at his home or get any marks. I've done bi-weekly inspections on my bed and see no marks or stains.
Should I try getting a dog? I got a bed bug specialist a few months ago who searched for an hour and said he could "guarantee" that I did not have them. I also do not see any bed bug signs like marks or blood ANYWHERE. My dermatologist said they could be pimples, but that some marks also looked like bites, overall wasn't very helpful.
What should I even do at this point? I have to take a Benadryl nightly just to get some good sleep. I wake up every night with a light and don't see anything. I'm not getting to the point of a mental breakdown (yet?) but it is extremely irritating and frustrating.

Currently 25 weeks along, I plan to go to an indoor pool resort this week for my birthday, so I decided to prep a bit and shave my arms and legs during bathtime, only to find out there was nothing to shave 😳 Last time I did anything to my body hair was over 6 weeks ago, when I waxed it. A wax normally lasts me 2-3 weeks. I am not the hairiest person generally speaking, but the hairs I get are pretty dark and hard to miss. I also noticed that I need to tweeze way less often. The hair still grows in my pubic area and on my armpits, but it’s just a soft fuzz now. I was under the impression that pregnancy makes your hair grow faster and thicker, did this happen to anyone else?

TL/DR: Am I body positive or just subconsciously avoiding intimacy?
I'm the hairiest women you've ever seen, I promise you, but the full package otherwise. After breaking up my last relationship I haven't shaved my legs in a year and it is IMPRESSIVE. I have super light skin and dark brown hair so it's very obvious too. I was bullied for my body hair as a child and instead of being told that my hair was normal, my (much less hairy) mom promptly taught me how to shave. I've carried around the notion that I'm unlovable because of my hair my whole life. My ex boyfriend constantly criticized my hair and would never fail to complain of stubbles. Since the hair grows back within a day or two, I had stubbles almost constantly and I'm sure I would in my next relationship unless I find the energy to shave every other day. His intolerance of my hair made me feel unattractive and would immediately turn me off sexually. (I shave my armpits and wax my upper lip cuz I like the way I look without a wispy hair there, and also the vag area because otherwise it's the rainforest and dulls my sensitivity during sex, but that's the only hair removal I actually enjoy)
I've started dating again (I'm 30) and fantasize about a partner that not only tolerates my hair, but actually likes it, or at least loves that I'm being self-confident/brave/my true self. But I have a sneaking suspicion that this fantasy is due in part to the unresolved trauma of being ridiculed for my hair as a child. I don't want to use relationships to try and heal my inner child, since I know that doesn't work anyways. BUT the thought of shaving my legs for a man never fails to make me feel inadequate. Plus I hate the painful full-leg sensitivity I get after a shave, the nicks and cuts, and the time it takes to do it when I'm busy.
Whoever I date will eventually know how hairy I am. Shaving feels like putting off the inevitable. It feels desperate. On the other hand, not shaving makes me envision scenarios of being rejected, and I'm not sure body positivity is the hill I want to die on especially if I like everything else about a person.
I think I would be ok with shaving if the man I'm with knew the breadth and depth of my hairiness. I'd feel more comfortable if he knew that I get stubbles between shaving, that it feels like sandpaper 6 out of 7 days a week, and that for all intents and purposes shaving is only an aesthetic consideration. I think shaving my legs looks a little weird, since I have a little hair traveling up to my lower back and belly button, so unless I shave my whole butt there is a line where I stop at the top of my thigh. I also have hair around my nipples and feet. It would be a full time job trying to look smooth everywhere. (waxing my legs is super painful and takes over an hour. I tried it once and I was shaking my the end of it. It's torture and I'll never do it again)
I've gone on a few dates with a guy I really like, but not knowing how to approach the hair issue with him is making me miserable. I have hairy arms, so I'm sure he has a sense that I'm a hairy person already, but my last boyfriend was also privy to this info and yet still horrible about my legs during our relationship.
How do I broach this topic with potential partners?
My ideas:

1. shave because I can't take the anxiety, but then then show him a pic of what it looks like not shaved ("do you like hair on nipples?")
2. Don't shave, ask the man how cool he is with it, stand before him like I'm waiting to be judged for a crime.
3. Don't shave, say nothing about it unless he brings it up, feel anxious about it till he invites me to the beach. Show up to the beach unshaved, full spectacle like I'm on a reality show.
4. put my unshaved legs in my dating profile and be the first woman I've ever seen display this amount of hair publicly.

Hello everyone! It's time once again for the weekly LG podcast featuring the judges' favorite shaves from the week.

Youtube: https://youtu.be/gp_FeBH35HU

SoundCloud: https://soundcloud.com/stephen-joiner-803708745/rwetshaving-lather-games-2021-podcast-ep-3

This week the hosts are:

• Me, a totally normal guy with no weird fetishes
• ItchyPooter, basically a huge shitlord kinkshamer
• whiskyey, waiting to hear back from his agent re: that Michael Cera Bond villain stuntman gig
• jeffm54321, like ruggerrigger but American
• uss-spongebob, Rules Liason and not actually named Bob

We started off by sharing our memories of 120inna55 who unexpectedly passed away this week. It's not a fun subject, but we hope you will join us in honoring him and his passion in the Games.
The big news this week: We have added a new sponsor with perhaps the most desirable prize ever featured. But you have to listen to find out who it is! What will be the grand prize: this or the Mr. Stewart mystery prize? Personally, I am going to cryogenically freeze myself until July in order to find out. You won't want to miss this OR the 3 new surprise prizes the judges will be giving out.

Daily recaps (Links may be NSFW, idk what you do for a living)

People's Choice

• Lloyd--christmas shaved with and then ate can of B&M beans
• Sgrdddy partial den tour 36 mins
• majormincemeat lathers with dirty sock
• Malthustheshaver BAM history
• Wirey_guy even more detailed BAM history
• Cadinsor refused to use BAM and says we can’t tell him what to do
• Nonsenseofsight crazy song about BAM with harmonies
• Youarebreakingthings sgrddy style writeup "He has shown you can have a massive shave den without going broke as long as you know how to * find a good deal."
• Rocketk455’s 5 year old judges him for bringing 3 matching sets while traveling
• Will from BAM used Passiflora, hints at return?
• Merikus - Stairway to Mann

Düppelganger Day

• Thebruhestmoments A&E label drawing with tits and his wiener
• BVsaPike - A&E project chad
• Teufelskraft drew inferno soap really well
• Doctorrotor really funny stickman labels
• 1stHandXp really good label and making-of video for chicken eggs label
• Iceblock4ever drew santa's chestnuts and amber rose
• Youarebreakingthings chicago wayoh drawing video
• Wirey_guy really in depth A&E history
• Raymoonie beeforth meat spice lime label
• Rdthedo drew his label on etch a sketch
• Swampfoxer drew seaforth label for vagisil
• Colt_45s_with_lando amazing drawing of judges with huge dick prints
• Madflava81 good drawing of rawr
• Djundjila drew his label with cosmo on it

Dickhole Day

• Sgrdddy wins best stack using only his to sell pile on top of a stair well
• ilovemy07Subie linked to a W_E post for his stack and sotd pic and sms was annoyed he had to go there to judge it
• Chronossieur42o put glitter in his soap, adoreyou was very happy
• IAmXenokkah wrote his SOTD sleep deprived and high on benadryl, it is a trip
• rChewbacca filmed his stacking attempts with blooper reel
• Impressive_Donut114 stacked his products in shape of a dick
• Raymoonie made underpants origami with blade wrappers
• Djundjilla modern dickhole theory

WS Exclusive

• Jgraybill seems to have been inspired to shave his hairy nipples due to the chest lather challenge and regretted it
• BVsaPike used every WS exclusive splash and got progressively redder all while sitting on the toilet, plus lathered with toilet water
• Tiglathpilesar lathered his nipples wearing only a towel
• Oswald_heist photographed his gear with the Friends lego set - why the fuck did they make a Friends lego set?
• Mr_OneMoreTime has the hairiest chest on planet earth and I am very jealous. Left crop circles from his badger brush
• Ginopono and gosutoneko lathered on canned food
• JoboozeRum lathered on copenhagen dip
• Jimtasticness shaved with safety-ette armpit razor
• Sandman0 lathered on his dislocated rib
• Colt_45s_with_lando made summer break logo in his chest lather
• MorrRedd chest lathered on top of his t shirt
• Newtothethis let us know how inconvenient it is to chest lather when shaving your legs. Suggested knee lather for next year.
• Purple_ombudsman very thorough description of scents
• Merikus wrote a really good sub exclusive song
• Djundjilla creates Dogbite Brushworks and makes a valley brush out of clay
• Rchewbacca tapes two cans of wine, yes cans of wine, to chest before shaving in shower
• ythin lathered on a giant barbie chest
• Pppork showed proof of chicken egg soap being made

XWMBO

• ChocoTacoKid good memes
• Iceblock4ever 26 excellent memes
• 5neet wrote screen play based on his shave
• Sandman0 good memes
• Chefkoolaid sharp dressed man cover
• leiaw amazing newcomer memes

CREAM

• Djundjila - ummm wtf is this brush? https://imgur.com/pVbLaUd
• MikeFightsBears posted his script that tells him if something he wants is for sale
• Mr_OneMoreTime posted stages of grief of when you get scooped
• Purple_ombudsman needs me to sprout a 2nd dick for him to suck
• Impressive_donut114 funny PAA story: “ The only saving grace was the fact that I inconvenienced the proprietor - PAA"
• majormincemeat shaved with whipped cream
• Sleezey-Sleeze covered “white room” by cream
• Jimtasticness horrifying cream-related medical story
• Grindermonk got his wife scooped by someone working at sports authority

Freeze Your Face Off

• rChewbacca shaved with Orbit on a plane. Did not say how he got the blade through security, but we’re led to believe it was not in his butt. Passenger he was stuck next to noticed he smelled better upon leaving the bathroom.
• Chefkoolaid made a space saga story through various pictures. PAA is the villain, blows up his shave wares
• Elcharminman was able to get through the watering eyes of his menthol shaves because he’s been practicing shaving blind in the event that daily challenge presents itself
• Hairykopite froze his razor in a block of ice, use subzero (celsius) lather water
• Semaj3000’s shave was so cold he ended up snotting on himself during the shave. Ended up tapping out when his skin was too numb to provide feedback.
• MrLamper1 added some freshly picked and crushed peppermint to his lather for extra chill
• DoctorRotor froze his soap and splash in a block of ice
• Youarebreakingthings - chicken stock ice cubes
• Pppork has some suggestions for updating the Summer Break Cannonball scent to make it more realistic - hydrogen peroxide and dog shit.

Yeah, it was a lot of fucking posts. Definitely read them all if you haven't, though.
ItchyPooter grills me on my Dickhole Day SOTD. TL;DR: he's a huge bully and I did not inhale.
We discuss the upcoming days including some brand new ones we have never tried, so buckle up and here's hoping it's not a shit show (but secretly please let it be a shit show).
Who will be crowned King of the Shave Nerds for 2021? Who will win Shawn's Analingus (or a shave set? I'm not clear on what exactly the prize is here)? We're halfway there and shit is getting real.

I've known Brielle for maybe 3 months now, we're both in our late 20's. Early on, she told me sex was really important to her and she only has it when she is in a committed relationship. Thats completely fine with me. We lightly dated for about 2 months, then we agreed we wanted to make things exclusive and go for an official relationship. She's everything I've been looking for in a woman over the past few years (when I grew up and decided I wanted to find someone to settle down with). I know its still early, but I've dated 100 girls over the years and I've never seen as much promise with someone that I see with Brielle.
Well, if it were all daises and butterflies then I wouldn't be here, right? Even after we became an official couple, we still took things slow and didn't have sex immediately. Well we finally did the deed last night, and it was...not what I expected. The sex itself was fine, but I was put off on the amount of body hair she has. Brielle told me before she doesn't really shave her legs. Thats not a big deal to me, I don't really shave my legs either. But she clearly does not groom any body hair whatsoever. And she's the hairiest woman I've ever seen in my life. In no uncertain terms, I find it disgusting. Every single body part of hers below the neck is considerably hairier than my corresponding body part, and I'm a man. Her armpits are thick and nappy. The hair on her nipples are at least 2 inches long. Her stomach is hairy. Her pubic hair...jesus. It expands from her belly button down to her mid thighs. It is so thick around her vagina that I could barely navigate my way around. I went down to give oral, but I couldn't really the parts I was looking for quick enough, so I bailed on that. Honestly, I really don't like a bunch of hair in my mouth anyway. As disgusted as I am with all of this, I'm just incredibly surprised she's been able to hide it so well for so long. I NEVER noticed.
At this point, I've obviously got to break up with her, right? There is something about her physically that I find fundamentally unattractive, and it affects our sex. I really want to tell her why, though. Like, dude, if you just shaved yourself from the neck down once every couple of months we could make this work. But I also feel like you cant say this to someone. She obviously just doesn't mind her own body hair, so it feels rude to ask someone to change something about them in order to keep dating them. BUT it also feels rude just to breakup with her by saying, "things aren't working out for me." Especially since we JUST had sex last night. And especially since things have been going so well for the both of us. She is probably going to think I just wanted to be with her to have sex, and then dump her. Or maybe even worse she'll think there is something about her or her sexuality that I find so repulsive I need to leave. Which is true, but its an easy fix, if she's interested. Its not something unfixable.
I just don't know how to proceed. Ideally, at this point, she would just be less hairy and we'd continue on. I don't know how to get there without seriously offending her or crossing a line.
​
TL;DR It feels like I have to break up with my GF because I am repulsed by her body hair, and its unfair of me to ask her to groom herself, even though I don't want to.

Previously on Order Undivided

Be Me, PalaDM
Be Order Undivided, Kazador, Julian, Yndri, Peregrin, Senket, and Jort, paladins one and all.
Oh, and one cat. Her name is Bast, and she is adorable.
The paladins are still traveling north to the ruined city of San Jonas, and so far things have been quiet. With the destruction of the gnoll band and Cluny’s Legion, this area is actually relatively safe to travel, at least up to the bridge.
As they cross, Jort speaks with them. “This is where things get a shade more hairy. We’re closing in on Orc territory. Cluny made a point to cull most of the dangerous wildlife, but the orcs are somewhat less proactive. Even outside of the monsters we’ve got the orcs themselves in this area. I’m not sure how many tribes are in the area, but there’s at least one tribe of them, plus several bands of ogres.”
”So we’ve nae got tae look far tae find grobi tae kill. Ah dinnae mind even a wee bit.” Kazador says with a grin, and War Pig snorts in agreement.
”I suggest we stop slightly sooner than before then. I’ll need time to fortify our encampment, or we’re going to have to find somewhere more defensible than just the side of the road.” Julian advises.
Yndri stands up on her still moving stag and looks out. To her west she can see tall hills on the horizon, with plains in between. To the east the forest stretches on over rolling hills and dales. Behind them, to the south, the falling away of the woods to a fertile plain. Before them, to the north, the land seems mostly flat, though it does become hillier ahead.
”I believe we may reach those hills ahead by tonight if we hurry.” She says as she sits back down, then increases her mount’s pace. The party nods and increases their speed to match. As the sun begins to set, they are surrounded by the long shadows of the hills, and climb one to set up camp atop it.
Before a fire is lit, Julian gathers branches and severs several limbs from trees with the leaves still intact to form a screen around the camp to obscure the fire and serve as a makeshift barricade. It is not needed though, as the night passes without incident.
At the dawn, they depart, scattering their fire and riding down the hill and back to the road. The old highway curves between the hills and around their sides. The paladins remain constantly on alert, wary of ambush. Their wariness serves them well, as shortly after their noontime meal, a piercing, bugling cry rings out through the hills.
The party halts and scans around for the source, before Yndri looks up and shuts a warning, pointing to the foe before seizing her bow.
Out from the hill tops a flock of hideous abominations fly towards the party. They have the bodies of great birds the size of a man, with sharp talons and great wings, but their heads are those of stags. The party is dumbstruck and has no idea what the hell these things are, but such hideous monstrosities must be destroyed.
Yndri draws back her bow and puts two shots into the leader of the five, wounding it but not killing it, as the flock clasps wings to sides and dives to strike, claws outstretched. It goes for Yndri’s heart, claw raking at the chain shirt and leaving long scratches. Frustrated, it rakes at her with it’s horns, but the agile elf dodges away.
The more heavily armored party members fare better against the assault, but the creatures are too swift, slipping away before they can properly retaliate. However there is a shout as one of the monsters seizes Peregrin in its claws and begins to flap upwards and away with him.
Kazador roars in frustration at the cowardly foe. “Julian, get the wee lad, Ah’ll aid Yndri! Senket, fire support!” He orders as he wheels War Pig and charges the one attacking Yndri. He draws only one axe, using his free hand to seize the monster by the wing. He hacks at it twice and tosses it before him to be trampled under the charging Boar.
Julian tosses Senket his crossbow and takes off at top speed towards the one grappling Peregrin and lays into it, sending the three crashing into a nearby tree. The smaller paladin takes the opportunity to slip the monster’s grasp, dropping into a lower branch and whipping out his sling to pelt it with bullets.
Senket catches the heavy crossbow, looks at it with a slightly bemused glance, and then drops it before hurling a bolt of fire into another monster, setting its wings alight with unnatural purple flames.
Yndri gives Kazador a nod of thanks before retargeting. One shot flies wide but the second strikes true into the blazing beast, dropping it onto the path with a crashing splat.
Jort picks up the fallen crossbow and fires, nailing the sole unengaged creature as it swoops in to strike Yndri from behind. Its screech of pain is enough to alert her to its presence and she whirls. She blocks its talons with her bow, but is flung from her mount. The elk bugles angrily and strikes the creature from behind as it tries to rip out the elven woman’s heart.
Kazador turns from his broken foe and charges back. The War Pig cannot turn swiftly enough, so he leaps from its back and charges the monster. He lunges and tackles it to the ground, claw around its throat. His axe comes up and down twice, and the beast lies still.
Julian is not fairing as well against his monster. His great blade is caught in the branches of the tree, and the heavily armored knight is just barely able to keep his balance. The monster rushes him, leaping up to slash open long rents in his unarmored wings. Ichor runs freely, and the monster headbutts Julian, finally costing him his balance and sending him plummeting to the ground with a crunch.
Peregrin watches his friend fall, reaching out to catch him but his arms are too short. His bone-hilted blades are in his hands in an instant, and he plunges one into the tree’s trunk. Necrotic energy flares and rots the old pine, and it can no longer hold up its own weight. The creature lets out a weird shriek as it falls, flapping its wings desperately to try to hold itself aloft. Peregrin decides that this will not stand, and leaps atop it, driving his blades into where the wings meet its back. It screams as it plummets into the ground, breaking the halfling’s fall.
With the monsters dead, the paladins tend to their wounded. Peregrin helps Julian sit up, sending healing energy to repair the broken spine. Kazador offers Yndri a claw, and she takes it. Sturdy fortifying magic flows from the dragonborn into his friend, closing the gashes. Julian stands, somewhat unsteadily, but walks it off.
”What in the nine hells were those things?” Jort asks as he returns the crossbow.
”No clue.” Julian says, to the surprise of the rest of the party, who then look at Peregrin, who also shrugs helplessly.
”Hey, I’m pretty sure I’d remember if there were any stories about a party of heroes getting mobbed by elk-hawks. This is just flat out weird.” He says.
Considering I’ve never seen Peryton’s mentioned or used in any adventure or module outside of their entry in the Manual, I can’t blame him. Criminally underused monster.
The party progresses to their next camp quickly, but without further incident. The night passes without an attack, but the party can hear the cries of unseen creatures in the dark, along with the howling of wolves in the distance.
The next day, they ride once again quickly, drawing ever closer to the ruined city. Now they can see the remains of stone towers atop the hills, ancient sentries now left to the degradations of time. As they proceed, they come to a stop when they hear a noise in the distance. The party moves off the path and moves slowly.
As they draw closer, Peregrin’s ears turn red as he realizes what the sound is. “It’s singing, technically speaking.” He explains. “Although orcs can’t carry a tune in a bucket.”
”Orcs then.” Yndri says. “Shouldn’t be any trouble.”
”Don’t be so sure. The tribes up north were strong enough to drive Cluny and several other legions out of San Jonas.” Jort warns, and the party heeds him, proceeding with caution.
”What are they singing anyways?” Yndri asks and Peregrin turns very red.
”Something that really, really shouldn’t be sung.” Is all he will say on the matter.
As the party comes upon the source of the singing, they can see a triumphant war band moving up the road, with a heavily built war wagon laden with booty. Before and behind it a score of orcs march, led by a particularly tall orc in full plate, riding a horse and bearing a crude banner aloft. In the wagon are the largest orcs. The most massive specimen wears no armor, but bears a mighty maul on his back. The second largest also wears no armor, wears a spear, or perhaps a quarterstaff, wrapped in cloth on his back, and is missing one of his eyes. Despite being smaller, this one bears an aura of power that no other can match. Besides him sit two bodyguards, also in plate, bearing great axes.
The last two in the cart are something of a mystery. One, the hairiest orc that any of them have ever seen, wears a mighty bow on his back and is clad all in furs. He is currently sleeping despite the racket. The other is the leader of the racket, beating on a great drum to keep the song going.
The last thing of note is the cart itself and what is pulling it. The cart is clearly not of orcish origin, but instead looks as though it was made by dwarves and then looted. Dragging it is a massive oxen-like creature, easily larger than even the most massive cattle. It is covered in shaggy fur and has gigantic, brutal looking horns that resemble spears more than anything else.
”Looks like a raiding band, a rather successful one at that. We might want to steer clear.” Jort cautions.
”I count twenty and six, including their commanders. With the element of surprise, we could take them.” Julian observes. “They are only orcs after all.”
”Still, no need to get overconfident.” Yndri advises. “We need a plan.”
”Right.” Julian says as he scratches out a crude battle map in the dirt. “That wagon is going to be a strong point, we’re going to want to deal with them without too much interference. If we can draw away and cull the foot soldiers first, we’ll have a much easier time of it.”
”So we’ll need some form of bait.” Peregrin says, looking to Yndri. “Someone who’s fast enough and good enough at range to skirmish effectively, and also a target the orcs will engage without thinking twice about.”
”I’ll do it, no need to dance around the point.” Yndri says. “The foot soldiers won’t be able to catch me on Pan (her stag), but I will need someone to deal with that horseman.”
”Coordinated ranged firepower can drop the mount, then I’ll deal with the rider.” Senket says. “I’m the best suited to a one on one out of all of us except maybe Peregrin, but we’ll need him to help break the rest of the group with Kazador and Julian.”
”The skunners on that wagon will be up an’ at us nae long after we’ve hit them. We’ll need to break them on the charge, then turn in time. Ah’ll deal with the big laddie. Ah imagine the skunner with the wee bow will be shootin, Yn, ye’re tae deal with ‘im.”
”Agreed. I’ll deploy in front of them, drop the horse, and bait them into a charge. Once you engage, I’ll circle around to place as much fire as I can into their backs.”
The Paladins nod and move into a new position in front of the band. Yndri moves out even further, and then rides out onto the path before them. The orcs are surprised for a moment, and in that moment Yndri takes aim and fires, wounding the lead rider’s horse.
”Elbereth a githonel! Reviae Gilgalad!” She challenges them in elvish, and the horde lets out a collective roar of hatred. The mass surges forwards, ancestral hatred turning their already hot blood magmatic.
In the back near the war wagon, the driver stands and draws his maul, the bodyguards leap to their feet, and the drummer begins to beat and chant
Orc Theme Music.mp4
The warchief rises calmly though, and nudges the bowman awake. “It seems we found an excellent meal for tonight.” He informs the ranger, who stretches awake, standing up and looking around unconcerned.
As the horde charges forwards, the banner bearer is slowed by his wounded mount, unable to close the distance. As he moves forwards, he suddenly questions why his mount was targeted, and why a single elf was all that engaged. Through the red sharpness of rage, he sees more clearly than most.
”Hold! It’s a trap!” He roars an order as he pulls up to halt his steed. Not swiftly enough though as a crossbow bolt fells it and sends him sprawling into the dirt.
The trap is sprung as Julian, Kazador, and Peregrin come charging out of the woods, Jort reloading his crossbow behind them. War Pig smashes into the rear of the charge, scattering grey skinned humanoids with furious bulk. From atop it Kazador cleaves down into the orcs, a dwarven song of ancient grudges on his lips (metaphorically speaking).
Peregrin rides into the center, slipping between foes as he slashes apart tendons and hamstrings, dropping three to the ground, while his mount pounces upon a fallen and seizes the orc in his jaws. The hound shakes his head like it was killing a rat and breaks the orc’s neck.
Julian is at the front of the horde, blocking the path to Yndri with a wall of destrier and whirling steel. He runs one orc through on the charge, then severs an arm before sending an orc head whirling away like a golf ball. “Fore!”.
”It’s only three! Ye’re a mage, can ye nae count?” Kazador asks, slightly annoyed that the arcanist appears to be cheating.
Senket ignores the competition and rides straight for the fallen bannerman. He raises an arm to defend himself as he fully expects to be trampled, but the iguanadon leaps over him, kicking away another orc as Senket dismounts, bashing down another orc and smashing a third’s chest open. “Get up, for today you die on your feet.” She orders him, but does not attack yet.
Yndri urges Pan on, slipping away from the orcs who slipped past Julian and firing twice into them, dropping another. The tough creatures take a good deal to put down. In the back, the orcish ranger draws back his mighty horn bow, and fires. “A good idea to take down the steed. Thanks for the idea, meat.”
Two crow-feathered arrows slam into Pan, staggering the fey stag. It flickers briefly as it begins to lose its hold on this realm. Several other orcs get the idea and a hail of javelins flies from the orcs on the edges of the melee. Yndri rolls clear as her mount is banished, but a javelin slams into her armor, unable to pierce the fine steel weave, but with enough force to crack a rib underneath it.
The bannerman stands up, drawing his sword and readying his shield. “You should have killed me when you had the chance.” He informs Senket as he rushes forwards. Mace and sword meet in a flurry of sparks, before the orc flicks his wrist and moves his sword in an arc, cutting Senket’s wrist and forcing her to drop the weapon. The skilled swords-orc strikes again, stabbing past her defenses and cutting her in the armpit where her armor is weakest.
The driver orc leaps over the great bull and hits the ground running, moving faster than anyone the paladins have ever seen. Kazador Misty Steps in front of him and meets the charge with two axes into the chest. The massive orc simply growls in annoyance.
In the center, Peregrin dodges and weaves through the retaliatory onslaught, but is caught from behind when the orcs he thought he had downed struggle back up and lay into his back. “Seems you’re tougher than I remember. Sorry about that.” He grins through the pain, before turning his mount. He brings one down with a cut through the groin, and a second by removing his leg at the knee. The retriever rips a chunk out of the third survivor’s thigh, dropping him to a knee, allowing Peregrin to remove his head.
Julian sees Yndri fall and the orcs rushing for her, and his eyes blaze crimson. “This will not stand!” He declares as he unleashes his power, the wrath of a god about him sending even the godsworn orcs scattering in fear as he charges by their ranks, trampling one unfortunate underfoot as he leaps from his steed and descends like a bolt of lighting into the orc ranks, hewing them down all about him in a whirlwind of blazing light and black blood.
Senket takes a moment to look at her fallen weapon. “Do you really think that has any hope of stopping me?” She asks as she strikes out with the edge of her shield, cutting into the orc in a blast of golden flame. As he falls to the ground she raises a hoof and stomps down, Thrawn (yes, that’s his name, I’m getting tired of referring to him as bannerman) just barely rolling away before she crushes his skull. She bends to retrieve her weapon and strikes him again, sending him sprawling with blood oozing from the side of his head.
Yndri rises to her feet and draws back her bow, aiming for the orc ranger. The shot is at the edge of her bow’s effective range, so one falls short. The second shot flies true though, right into the ranger’s throat.
Where it breaks in half against his skin, as though she had fired it into a stone wall. He grins at her wolfishly, and pulls back his bow. Julian’s terror aura does an excellent job pushing back the orcs, but arrows cannot feel fear. Two black shafts pierce Yndri’s stomach and she falls to a knee, coughing up blood.
The orc barbarian looks at the axes buried in his chest and then reaches out and grabs Kazador by the throat, growling like an animal as he lifts the massive dragonborn off the ground with one hand, and with the other, slams him with the maul like a cow carcass hanging from a hook.
The orc lord watches on and smiles as his champions do good work, all save one. He looks at thrawn, sprawled out across the ground, and Senket ready to finish him off. For a moment he considered letting her remove the disappointment, and then sighs. Waste not, want not. He pulls the javelin from his back and lets the cloth fall.
The smell of ozone fills the air and the crackle of electricity sounds over the battlefield as the orc lord raises aloft the lighting bolt and hurls it like ancient zeus. Senket feels every hair on her body stand up and starts to turn when the spear hits her in the back, just between the shoulder blades. The tiefling screams in agony as the bolt hits her with enough force to shatter her armor, and falls to a knee, catching herself on her shield.
Even unconscious, the stubborn paladin refuses to fall.
Kazador hears the scream, and with what air he has left in his lungs, blasts the mighty orc in the face with a gout of flame, forcing him to drop him. He snatches his axes out of the barbarian and rushes to Senket’s side.
Peregrin also hears the cry, and cuts his way out of the mob around him. “Julian! We need to fall back!” He shouts.
The Aasimar looks at the mess everyone is in and nods, turning to Yndri as she struggles to stand. He looks her in the eyes and Commands her; “Run.” For a moment the elf stiffens as she struggles against the magic, before it takes hold and she turns, no longer feeling the pain.
Senket’s eyes are still open, but she can’t see anything. She labors to breathe, trying to get to her feet but her muscles won’t respond. She hears words distantly, as though everything is far away. “Get up. Get up you aren’t done yet. You have to get up.” She tells herself.
Yndri’s body runs, but her mind isn’t all there. She isn’t trying to fight the control as her body runs away. Inside her trance, the world falls away, into a blackness lit by darkvision. She is still running, but this wasn’t now, this was… when? In dreaming memory and waking trance she runs.
The barbarian shakes his head to clear his vision, and gets up to charge the insolent dragonborn when a bolt hits him in the knee, as he stumbles, he falls altogether as Jort charges in, smashing his crossbow into the huge orc’s jaw and knocking him down. “Kaz! Get on!”
The orc ranger fires at the fleeing elf but she is beyond his range. Next to him, the orc chief, now totally without any weapons, steps off the cart and walks calmly towards the retreating party.
Kazador picks up Senket gently and places her on the side of the horse, sending whatever healing magic he can to stabilize her. “Go! Ah’ll be right behind ye!” He orders, smacking the horse to get it running. War Pig charges back in and slams into the barbarian, sending it sprawling, landing next to his chief, who looks at the huge boar with a bemused smile.
Peregrin rushes up to alongside Yndri and places a hand on her shoulder. The healing cannot be complete while those arrows are still in her, but this will at least ensure she doesn’t hurt herself any more by running in her condition.
Julian sees Jort rush by and turns to Kazador, who still stands ready to act as a rearguard. “Don’t be a fool, hero, and Run.” He Commands, but Kazador’s will is like the bedrock of the mountains and his rage is a dragon’s. Still, he recognizes how desperate the situation is if Julian is daring to use his magic on him and turns.
Senket starts to breath again as Kazador heals her, and she can feel the motion of a horse and hear the wind rushing by her. “No no no!” She shouts mentally. “You can’t leave them behind! Get up!” Her hand clenches into a fist, and she starts to force her way back into consciousness by sheer force of will.
”Senket, stop.” She hears a voice, the voice of an old friend, an old mentor. “It’s okay spitfire, rest.” Her master’s voice assures her, as she drifts into true unconsciousness.
”Master… Arvidor…” She whispers as the black takes her.
Yndri turns in the running dream, hearing footsteps behind her. As the healing magic begins to soothe her she regains lucidity, and the vision fades, just as she sees four figures pursuing her, the leader with a mace in one hand, and a many headed scourge in the other.
The orc barbarian rolls to his feet, smashing the ground in front of War Pig before slamming it in the side of the head. The stubborn boar doesn’t move, and as it rushes forwards for him again, the chieftain steps forwards into its path.
With a single uppercut, the orc lord throws War Pig up in the air. The one eyed monk takes a single step forwards, then plunges his hand into the celestial mount’s chest, and rips out its heart. As the creature flickers back to its own plane, he takes an experimental bite of the heart, and sighs when it vanishes.
”Shame, that was quite good.” He says, quite disappointed.
Kazador sees this as he turns to run, and growls, the sweat of his body steaming as he burns with rage, and utters another oath, another grudge to be wiped away in bloody vengeance. He climbs on Julian’s horse, and they ride away swiftly.
”So, they retreat.” The chief says as he looks over the damage the party caused. While the party was forced back, they did manage to slaughter most of his foot soldiers. There are only two surviors, aside from Thrawn, who is pulling himself back to consciousness.
”Turn those two and hunt them down.” He orders the ranger. “Bring the elf back alive, as well as the dragonborn. They will make fine sacrifices for Lord Gruumsh.”
”And the others?” The ranger asks.
”Do as you wish. Though I sense that you will be unable to turn them.”
”It will take some time for the change to take place.” The ranger says as he looks at the two surviving orcs.
”They’ll have a head start then, I trust you can manage.”
”More than that, mean’s there’s sport to be had.” The werewolf says as he shifts, snout elongating and bristling with fangs. Before they can resist, the ranger snaps at each, infecting them.
”It’s going to be a strong moon tonight. An excellent night for a hunt.” He cackles, looking towards the woods where the paladins fled, tail wagging in anticipation.

Next

I'm going to buy a groupon to do laser hair removal on a small area. I've read the reviews and no one has anything bad to say about the purchase. I can only afford one area at the moment (and probably ever, since this is a heavily discounted groupon) but I don't know which area would be most beneficial so I want other opinions
Option 1: Armpits. I have the hairiest armpits and even right after i shave them I look like I have a five o clock shadow on my armpits. My hair is extremely thick, dark, and there is a ton of it. I'm unsure if by 'one small area' that means both armpits but i would think so...? Obviously this one would be useful because I would not have to shave my armpits all the time but my concern is that my arm pits will still be ugly after because of the dark tint to them.
Option 2: happy trail. I have a lot of very dark hairs around my belly button leading down to my pubic region. This one is more embarrassing since not everyone has it. Anytime I check my stomach before a social event I won't see any hairs but the minute i go to get in the pool I can't stop noticing them and wondering if everyone else is staring at them. My concern with this one is that summer is almost over and then my stomach won't really be exposed as often.
Option 3: my nipples. While the hairs on my nipples are not thick, they are very dark. This one is also really embarrassing. I'm in a long term relationship so it isnt a huge deal rn if I have a few long nipple hairs that I missed but the relationship is on the rocks and in future sexual situations it would be really embarrassing to worry about. Its probably like 3-10 long (think length of an eyebrow hair) DARK hairs around each nipple.
Which would yall do?

I’m extremely hairy everywhere (Legs, thighs, arms, forearms, chest, belly, back, face, you name it), in a swimming pool / beach, big chances I’m the hairiest around, and refuse to shave it except for my groan and armpit (because sweat smell), and I believe hairy men should stand proud and never shave/wax most of their bodies except mentioned parts and resist culture, media, women opinion and conforming to their society to shave their pride and glory, it’s one of the physical things that sets you as a man.

So, I saw someone else posted a list of Survivor anagrams for S32. I also have compiled a list of anagrams of Survivor castaways’ names from seasons 1 to 32 over time. So I thought I’d share them!
I put Cambodia first, then Kaoh Rong, and then seasons 1-30 in order. To find a player you have in mind, look them up on their original season. I put in italics anagrams that are funny or interesting or creepy… Winners are in bold. And I only put anagrams on the list that actually make coherent sense. **HOPE YOU ENJOY IT!
Feel free to leave comments about your favorites! They’d be appreciated as some of these are pretty darn funny.
~Cambodia~
Abi-Maria Gomes = Bro... I am sage. I am!/ I am some airbag/ I raise ammo bag
Andrew Savage = Agendas wave Award gas even/ A sad new grave/ A war’s avenged/ Wave as danger
Ciera Eastin = A nice satire/ I eat arsenic
Jeremy Collins = Smell nicer joy
Joe Anglim = Go jam line/ Go jail men/ Jail gnome
Kass McQuillen = Quick man sells/ Quells in smack/
Keith Nale = Then I leak/ Liken heat
Kelley Wentworth = We knew they troll/ Well, they network
Kelly Wiglesworth = Get why skill lowe Yell, work with legs/ Wore skylight well
Kimmi Kappenberg = Be pimp kingmaker
Monica Padilla = I do a plain clam
Spencer Bledsoe = No blessed creep/ Peer be coldness/ Son creep bleeds
Tasha Fox = Fast hoax
~Kaoh Rong~
Alecia Holden = Hoed alliance/ I cleaned halo
Aubry Bracco = Crab, you crab/ Occur by a ba Cab by our car
Cydney Gillon = End cloyingly/ Lending coyly
Darnell Hamilton = I manhandle troll/ Harm all indolent/ I enthrall old man
Caleb Reynolds = A scorned belly/ Censored by all/ Sacredly noble/ Clearly on beds/ Lonely bed sca Obscenely lard/ Lordly absence/ Bend so clearly/ Beyond recalls/ Blend coarsely/ Closed blarney/ Elderly can sob
Debbie Warner = Be wide, barren/ Dare new bribe/ Renewed Rabbi/ Wine be barred/ Need barbwire/ New bare bride/New red Barbie/ Beer be inward/ Be wind-beare Beware binde I be redrawn
Joe del Campo = Deep cool jam
Kyle ‘Sarg’ Jason = Slangy as Joke Joke, gnarly ass/ Any jerk’s goals/ Glares sank joy
Michele Fitzgerald = I fetch me lizard leg
Neal Gottlieb = Go, little bean!/ Angel to be lit/ Let binge a lot/ Be in tollgate/ Gotten liable/ Not legible at/ Oblige talent/ Leg in a bottle/ Blot a Gentile
Nick Maiorano = I rock on mania/ Crook in mania/ A minion croak
Peter Baggenstos = Egg a tense Probst/ Be poet gangsters/ Beg top greatness/ Stop tense beggar
Scot Pollard = Doll’s capto Craps do toll/ Do call sport/ Scar top doll/ Clasp to Lord/ Adopt scroll/ To drop calls/ Scold patrol
Tai Trang = Giant rat/ A ratting/ Rang at it/ Tag train
~Borneo~
B.B. Andersen = Ban benders/ Bed banners
Dirk Been = Be kinde Kind bee Keen bird/ Kneed rib
Gervase Peterson = Gas over pretense/ Go save represent/ Repeat governess
Greg Buis = Big urges/ Big surge/ Us bigge I rub eggs/ Is bugger
Gretchen Cordy = Dry crotch gene
Joel Klug = Gull joke
Ramona Gray = Angry aroma
Rudy Boesch = Crushed boy/ Decoy shrub/ Rode by such
Stacey Stillman = All my testis can/ Am silently cast/ My little ass can/ Calls it amnesty/ Class mentality/ Mainly tactless/ I’ll act my sanest/ Less cattily, man/ Saintly calmest/ Casts all enmity/ Clients may last/ All my scantiest/ It’s all my ascent/ Smell a sanctity/ Smelly at antics/ Tally semantics
~The Australian Outback~
Amber Mariano = Am near Rob, I am!/ Am a main bore Rare mob mania
Colby Donaldson = So, con blond lady/ Scan doll on body/ Nobody’d call, son/ Call odds by noon
Debb Eaton = Babe noted/ Note, be bad/ Be a debt on/ Beat on bed/ Toned babe/ Nabbed toe/ One bad bet/ Bent abode/ Need abbot
Keith Famie = I make thief
Kel Gleason = Leaks on leg/ Sleek along/ Ogles ankle
Maralyn Hershey = Yearn me harshly/ Hears early hymn/ Sly hyena-harmer
Mitchell Olson = Melons to chill
Rodger Bingham = Go bring me hard/ Grind Amber, hog/ Go bring her mad/ Raging mob herd/ Had bigger morn
Tina Wesson = Notes as win/ Was tension/ Now asset in/ Wins on a set/ Saw tension/ We no saints
~Africa~
Carl Bilancione = A clinical bone All can be ironic/ Can care billion/ Cancer a billion
Clarence Black = Nice local brain/ Cannibal-recoil/ Rebel can clack/ Back canceller
Diane Ogden = Die and gone/ Do need gain/ Gain no deed/ None did age
Frank Garrison = Grins for a rank
Kelly Goldsmith = Kills them godly
Kim Powers = I skew prom
Linda Spencer = Ends crap line/ Creeps inland/ Darn lip scene/ Dinner places/ Perils can end/ Placed sinne Sniped lance Slender panic/ Rancid spleen/ Naps, recline
Lindsey Richter = I’d cry in shelte Is richly tende Recline dry shit/ Rich die sternly/ Sincerely third/ Resident richly/ Hit dry silencer
Silas Gaither = Arise as light/ Hairiest slag/ I slather gas/ Sigh, a realist/ Right aliases
Teresa Cooper = As creeper too/ Operates core/ See, react poo Operate score/ Cease troope Peace, rooster
Tom Buchanan = Moan at bunch/ Can hunt a mob/ On a bum chant/ A thumb canon
~Marquesas~
Gabriel Cade = I care, be glad/ Grace bailed/ Race big deal/ Acrid beagle/ Be caged, lia Rig a debacle/ Acid be large
Gina Crews = A screwing/ Nicer swag/ Wins grace/ Gains crew/ Saw cringe/ Care-wings/ Swing-race/ We scaring
Hunter Ellis = He tells ruin/ Slur the line/ Line hustle Thrill ensue
Paschal English = A clashing helps/ Hassling chapel
Patricia Jackson = I join a crap stack/ Jackpot is in a car
Peter Harkey = The key rape Take her prey
Rob Mariano = A brain room
Robert DeCanio = Aerobic rodent/ Bad rioter once/ Erection-board/ Do beat on crie Nice, dear robot/ Bored creation/ I beat no record/ Be action orde Be carried onto/ Be on a credito I’d beat corone End taboo crie I cornered boat
Sean Rector = Arrest once/ Can restore/ Near escort/ Corner seat/ Neat score Snore, react/ No caterers/ Sneer acto So recreant/ Tear censor
Tammy Leitner = I try me mental/ Try it, male men/ Manly termite/ Men may litte Trim me neatly/ Met my latrine/ Entitle my arm/ Mire my talent
Vecepia Towery = I overact weepy/ I vote creep way/Receive way top/ Way to perceive
~Thailand~
Brian Heidik = A bikini herd/ I hiked in bra
Erin Collins = Rolls in nice
Ghandia Johnson = Shanghai donjon
Helen Glover = Hell on verge/ Never go hell
Ken Stafford = Drank off-set/ Sent off dark/ Faked fronts/ Offend stark/ Desk affront
Penny Ramsey = Any men’s prey/ Enemy spy ran
Shii-Ann Huang = I Shanghai nun
Stephanie Dill = Depth in allies/ Held penis tail/ Denials help it/ Split headline/ I held panelist
Ted Rogers = Get orders/ Greed-sort/ Do regrets/ Rest gored
Jenna Morasca = Jeans can roam
Sandra Diaz-Twine = A wizard sat in end/ Radiant win dazes/ I add an ersatz win/ Raw and sanitized
Amber Mariano = Am near Rob, I am!/ Am a main bore Rare mob mania
~The Amazon~
Butch Lockley = The cocky bull/ Chuckle by lot/ To check bully/ Clothe by luck/ They lock club
Christy Smith = My shirts itch
Daniel Lue = Alien duel
Heidi Strobel = Hostile bride/ I be the Lord’s/ Bite her idols/ Set her libido/ I do hit rebels
Jenna Morasca = Jeans can roam
Matthew von Ertfelda = Love fattened warmth/ Theft marveled a town
Rob Cesternino = Erection’s born/ Corniest bone Escort boner in/ Be tonic snore No rotten scribe/ No snob recite No bitter sensor
Roger Sexton = Ogre-torn sex
Shawna Mitchell = Wins calm health
~Pearl Islands~
Burton Roberts = Turns to robber
Christa Hastie = It’s a chest hai As I hit the cars/ I chase a thirst/ As a richest hit/ Atheistic rash
Lillian Morris = Roll in similar
Michelle Tesauro = Me, celestial hour
Nicole Delma = Local men die/ Led on malice/ Me, a nice doll/ Me all in code/ Model can lie
Osten Taylor = Nasty loote Loose tyrant/ Entry as tool/ Start looney/ Not real toys/ To stay lone Only at store/ Only to stare
Rupert Boneham = Rape her bum ton/ Be humor-parent/ Mean up, brothe Be prom haunte Entrap bum hero/ Run, be metapho Another bumpe Mope heartburn/ Put home barren
Ryan Opray = Pony-array
Ryan Shoulders = Run dry, Asshole/ Hero runs, sadly/ Sorry, handle us/ Also ends hurry/ Darn surly hoes/ Hardens sourly/ Has old nursery/ Runs shy ordeal/ So hardly nurse
Sandra Diaz-Twine = A wizard sat in end/ Radiant win dazes/ I add an ersatz win/ Raw and sanitized
Shawn Cohen = No cash when…
Tijuana Bradley = Radiant bluejay/ A bad late injury/ A bat lay injured / A ready jubilant/ Darn jail beauty
~Vanuatu~
Brady Finta = Ban if tardy/ Dainty barf/ Fry a bandit
Brook Geraghty = Try, hook beggar
Chris Daugherty = Richest hard guy/ Reach gushy dirt / I’d crush thy rage/ I’d hush great cry/ His daughter cry
Dolly Neely = Yelled only
Eliza Orlins = Nil is all zero
John Palyok = Honk jalopy
Lea ‘Sarge’ Masters = Alert, ass emerges/ Merge’s real asset/ Esteem larger ass/ Releases germs at/ Ageless streame Messages’ alerter
Lisa Keiffer = Is life-freak/ Fake life, si Like if safe Rifle is fake
Mia Galeotalanza = Agonize at a llama/ I gaze on, at a llama
Rory Freeman = No marry free/ Yearn reform/ Nay, reforme Me, far ornery
Scout Cloud Lee = Clues clued too/ Use collect duo
Travis Sampson = Sportsman visa
Twila Tanner = Want latrine
~Palau~
Angie Jackusz = Jack gun a size
Caryn Groedel = End clear orgy/ Cry, aged lone Done large cry / Go end real cry/ Go dry-cleane Carry on ledge
Ian Rosenberger = Enrage boner, si Nearer sobering/ Groins be neare Be senior ranger
James Miller = Smellier jam
Janu Tornell = Unlearn jolt
Jonathan Libby = Job by inhalant
Katie Gallagher = Hate, kill garage/ A talkier haggle
Stephenie LaGrossa = Repeating Assholes/ Airplane sees ghost
Tom Westman = Want me most/ ‘Twas moment
Wanda Shirk = Ask hard win/ Drank a wish/ I swank hard/ Has kind wa Wash a drink/ Wash in dark
Willard Smith = Thrill was dim/ Will mist hard
~Guatemala~
Amy O’Hara = Hay-aroma
Brandon Bellinger = Ennobled barn girl
Brianna Varela = Arable nirvana
Brooke Struck = Book truckers
Cindy Hall = Candy Hill
Danni Boatwright = Win a grand hot bit/ A throwing bandit/ Bad with ignorant/ Boarding that win/ I do ban thwarting/ No tightwad brain
Gary Hogeboom = Go abhor my ego/ Go harem boy, go
Jamie Newton = A new joint me/ We meant join/ Join new meat
Judd Sergeant = Adjust gende Just deranged/ Just need drag/ End, just raged/ Grand jest due/ Judges ranted/ Just darn edge
Lydia Morales = Aside morally/ I delay morals/ I solely drama/ My idol as real/ A smelly radio/ Dies amorally/ Yes armadillo/ Admires loyal/ Dear loyalism/ Dreamily also/ Ideally roams
Rafe Judkins = Aid fun jerks/ Junkier fads
~Panama – Exile Island~
Austin Carty = At a scrutiny/ Cut sanitary
Bobby Mason = Ban my boobs
Bruce Kanegai = Breaking a cue
Cirie Fields = I sliced fire
Dan Barry = Barnyard
Danielle DiLorenzo = I’ll dread ozone line/ One idle, lone lizard/ Deodorize all linen
Melinda Hyder = Men hardly die/ I end her madly/ Mend her daily/ Derailed hymn/ Maidenly herd
Nick Stanbury = Bank scrutiny
Shane Powers = Answers hope/ He opens wars/ He was person/ Pass new hero/ Has new poser
Tina Scheer = In here, cats!/ The arsenic/ Nice hearts/ Then I scare/ Cheater’s in/ Antics here/ I enter cash/ She certain/ Hear insect/ I reach nest
~Cook Islands~
Adam Gentry = Tragedy-man/ Mated angry/ Gay men dart/ At my dange Day garment/ Grated many
Billy Garcia = A big lyrical
Brad Virata = Avid bar rat/ Bird avatar
Candice Cody = A coded cynic
Cecilia Mansilla = I can calm allies/ I call maniac’s lie/ I call malice a sin/ Clinical malaise/ I claim alliances
Christina Coria = Raincoat is rich
Flicka Smith = Lick him fast!/ Am sick filth/ Film as thick
Parvati Shallow = Slap with a valor
Rebecca Borman = A cancer bombe Cram beer on cab/ Barber can come/ Can race bombe Embrace carbon
Stephanie Favor = Hover a fat penis/ Hate penis favo Rapist of heaven/ Of sharp naïveté/ A festive orphan
Sundra Oakley = Us royal naked/ Sneak Our Lady/ You drank sale/ Aroused lanky
~Fiji~
Boo Bernis = Bribe soon/ Rinse boob/ So, no bribe/ I bore snob
Cassandra Franklin = Crank ass far inland
Earl Cole = Cello era
Edgardo Rivera = Drive road rage!/ Do arrive ragged
Erica Durosseau = Our cause is dea I arouse crusade/ I aroused a curse/ Raised our cause/ I caroused a use I use our arcades/ Readies raucous/ See raucous raid
Gary Stritesky = Risky strategy/ I get starry sky
James ‘Rocky’ Reed = Airs comedy jerk/ My jokes carried/ I rock Jersey mad/ Joker’s crime day/ I do jerks a mercy/ I scared my joker
Liliana Gomez = Gaze a million
Lisi Linares = A sillier sin/ Arise in ills/ I sell raisin/ Ill airiness/ Sin, liar lies
Rita Verreos = Rarer Soviet/ I save terro Rioters rave/ Overrate, sir
Stacy Kimball = May blacklist/ Stick by llama
Sylvia Kwan = A wavy slink
~China~
Aaron Reisberger = Ignore bare rears/ Agree on barriers/ Error area begins/ See bargain error
Amanda Kimmel = Am like madman/ Manlike madam/ I, naked mammal/ Make a man mild/ Damn, like mama/ Made a milkman
Ashley Massaro = Male’s hoary ass/ Am shy as lose Holy Mass areas/ Shame royal ass/ So slam hearsay/ So slays a harem/ Say, harass mole/ As army asshole/ Slay a mass hero/ Am hoarsely, ass
Chicken Morris = Irks me chronic
Courtney Yates = Yes, coy taunte You sneer catty/ You stay cente You erect, nasty/ You cry neatest/ Eyes at country
Dave Cruser = Cursed rave/ Sued crave User craved/ Curved ears
Denise Martin = I inserted man
Frosti Zernow = First, now zero/ Froze in worst/ Won zero, first/ First row zone/ Front row size/ Tons frowzier
Jaime Dugan = A main judge
James Clement = Jam select men
Leslie Nease = Lease senile/ Less alienee
Sherea Lloyd = Yes Lord, heal/ Hell, so ready/ Her, sole lady/ Holy leaders
~Micronesia~
Alexis Jones = Join sex sale/ See jinx also/ One’s jail sex
Joel Anderson = No older jeans
Kathy Sleckman = The lanky smack
Mary Sartain = Marry a saint/ Sanitary arm/ Train as army
Mikey Bortone = Be monkey riot/ Bite key moron/ Be key monito Took in my bee I broke my tone/ Obi, key mento Money broke it/ Obey monk rite/ My entire book/ Mine, key robot
Natalie Bolton = I’ll beat on a ton/ No, not liable at/ Lone battalion/ Label notation
Tracy Hughes-Wolf = Grew flashy touch/ Tough, flashy crew/ What grouchy self
~Gabon~
Ace Gordon = Do no grace/ Ego-cando Cargo done/ Caged-dono Can do ogre
Bob Crowley = Blew boo cry
Charlie Herschel = Check minor, si Rich smirk once/ Reach chills here
Corinne Kaplan = Rankle on panic
Gillian Larson = Aligns in a roll/ I’ll nag liars on/ Nails a rolling
Kelly Czarnecki = Kneel, lick crazy
Ken Hoang = Khan gone
Marcus Lehman = Launch me arms/ Calmer, humans/ Rush calm amen
Matty Whitmore = Am witty mothe Witty mom-hate Worth it, my mate/ What to my merit
Michelle Chase = Clichés heal me
Randy Bailey = By a yard-line/ I yearn badly/ Nearby daily/ Lay in by dea I learn by day/ Barely in day/ Already in by
Sugar Kipper = I spark purge
Susie Smith = Misuse shit/ Use hit-miss
~Tocantins~
Ben Coach Wade = Woe, bad chance/ Hence a bad cow/ Chewed a bacon
Erinn Lobdell = I’ll lend bone I’ll end noble Bedroll linen
Joe Dowdle = Jewel Dodo
J.T. Thomas = Jots math
Sandy Burgin = Undying bras/ Bind us angry/ Burning days/ Gun any birds
Sierra Reed = Rare desire/ Rise deare As derriere
Spencer Duhm = Denser chump/ Spender much/ Drench spume
Tyson Apostol = Stops any tool/ Loots any spot/ Slays onto top/ Slop too nasty/ Only stoops at/ Spotty saloon/ Stops at loony
~Samoa~
Betsy Bolan = Stolen baby/ Not sly, babe/ Yes, not blab/ No stable by/ Be only stab/ Let’s ban boy/ Sat by noble/ Sob tenably
Brett Clouser = Clutter bores/ Escort butle Bottle curse Butter closer
Erik Cardona = A darker icon/ I adore crank/ Reckon a raid
Kelly Sharbaugh = Hug shaky balle Harsh, ugly, bleak/ All ask her by hug/ All by huge shark
Laura Morett = A true mortal/ Alert, a tumo Am real tuto Late at rumo Rare mulatto/ Rat emulato Turtle aroma
Marisa Calihan = Am a liar, cash in/ Hail in mascara/ Malaria chains/ A main air clash/ I charm a snail
Mike Borassi = Irksome bias/ I am a kiss-bore/ I rob me a kiss
Natalie White = Neat with a lie/ Alienate with/ Await the line
Russell Hantz = Shall run zest
Russell Swan = Ass runs well/ Runs lawless
Shambo Waters = Am the war-boss/ Woe, stab harms/ Bathes so warm/ Bras somewhat/ Hates war mobs/ We harass tomb/ Her wombat ass/A hamster bows
Yasmin Giles = Is slaying me/ Is sly enigma/ Sly in image/ Gain messily/ I lay, messing
~Nicaragua~
Alina Wilson = Lawn liaison
Brenda Lowe = Down a rebel/ Be a new lord/ Blade owne Earned blow/ We bond real/ Bleed on wa Redone bawl/ Been a world/ Enable word/ Drew a noble/ Lowered ban/ New labored/ Wonder-able
Chase Rice = Ace riches/ Rich cease/ Search ice
Dan Lembo = Bad lemon/ Be old man/ Blamed on/ Mad noble/ Lame bond/ Bold name
Jane Bright = Big jar then
Jimmy Tarantino = Majority Tin-Man/ Jam my nitration
Kelly Shinn = Hell skinny
Marty Piombo = A prim tomboy/ Am prim booty/ Boo my armpit/Am it, prom boy/ May trip, boom!
Sash Lenahan = He has annals
Tyrone Davis = Dirty as oven/ Invades Troy/ I drove nasty/ No adversity/ Avoids entry/ Yes, torn diva/ I do envy sta Drove sanity/ I vary, stoned/ Done varsity/ Destroy vain/ Vanity doers/ I not very sad/ I stay vendo Noisy advert/ So divert any/ So invert day/ Navy so tired
Wendy Jo DeSmidt = My joints wedded
Yve Rojas = Joy-save Joy-raves
~ Redemption Island~
Andrea Boehlke = Able naked hero/ Healed on break
Ashley Underwood = Woe, unholy dreads/ Now hours delayed
David Murphy = Hump diva dry
Francesca Hogi = Fears coaching/ Afghani socce A coach’s finge Chains for cage/ Aches of caring/ Forcing a chase/Fingers a coach/ Fiasco change Go if has cance Facing as chore
Grant Mattos = Got start, man/ Strong at mat
Julie Wolf = I foul jewel
Matt Elrod = Old matte Treat mold
Mike Chiesl = Like chimes
Natalie Tenerelli = Tell neat lie in ea Lie alternate line/ Nettle in a real lie
Phillip Sheppard = Helps hard lip-pip
Ralph Kiser = Shark peril/ Sharp liker
Sarita White = We air shit at/ I, I hate warts/ I was a hitte I, I was threat/ With a satire/ It awaits he Hit a war site/ Air the waist/ I hear a twist/ It’s with area / Wait hastie I hate its war
Steve Wright = Swerve tight
Stephanie Valencia = Evil satanic peahen/ I can have penalties/ Is a cheap valentine/Achieve in pleasant/ Leviathan sapience/ Nice spatial heaven
~South Pacific~
Albert Destrade = Deserted lab-rat/ Bastard-delete Stable, retarded/ Led bad retreats/ Latest debarred/ Starred belated/ Let bad arrested
Dawn Meehan = Had new name/ New headman/ A new mad hen
Edna Ma = Anadem/ Maenad/ Mean ad
Elyse Umemoto = Me, you stole me/ You meet moles/ Met, you lose me
Keith Tollefson = Not kill the foes
Mark Caruso = Scour karma/ Sack a rumor
Mikayla Wingle = I malign weakly/ I all weak in gym/ Leak my wailing/ Liking lame way/ Gawkily lame in/ I walk in gamely
Rick Nelson = Censor-link/ Inner locks/ Liken scorn/ Lock sinner
Sophie Clarke = Chase like pro/ Hero pack lies/ A choler spike/ Likes each pro/ Real sick hope
Stacey Powell = Select low pay/ We pat closely/ Coleslaw-type
Whitney Duncan = I hunt new candy/ New handy tunic
~One World~
Alicia Rosa = A social air
Bill Posley = Spoil belly/ Libels ploy/ Lies by poll
Chelsea Meissner = I see her calmness/ Means I cheer less/ See, nice, harmless/ See rich maleness / See, silence harms/ She sense miracle/ Relishes menaces
Christina Cha = Hatch is in ca Archaic hints/ Has rich antic
Colton Cumbie = Boom, nice cult/ Climb out once/ Me not bucolic
Jonas Otsuji = Joins a joust
Kat Edorsson = Rodeos stank/ Ran so stoked/ Torso’s naked/ Soon darkest / Toss dark one/ Too darkness/ Asked no sort/ No doer’s task/ Rodents soak/ Steaks donor
Kim Spradlin = Mild in spark
Kourtney Moon = You’re not monk/ Monkey on tou Took money, run/ Unto key moron
Leif Manson = Elf mansion/ Inflame son
Michael Jefferson = Scoff jail men here
Monica Culpepper = Compel pure panic/ Pimp up concealer
Sabrina Thompson = Snaps in bathroom
Tarzan Smith = Man hits tza This man-tzar
Troyzan Robertson = Ran boozy torrents
~Philippines~
Angie Layton = Goat inanely/ Aye, not align/ Not agile any/ Not gay alien/ I leant agony/ A leaning toy
Artis Silvester = Resists evil rat/ Arrest, it’s evil/ Satirist revels/ Rarest evil sits/ Realist strives/ Resist set rival/ Lives starriest/ Set liar strives/ Vitals-resister
Carter Williams = Alarm, I slit crew/ Camera will sti I will master ca Will tear racism/ I tell racism-wa Tramcar willies/ Call wartime, si I stall war crime/ Calmer liar’s wit/ War’s clear limit/ Crime trail’s law/ Limits a crawle Writes lacrimal
Dana Lambert = Named ‘Lab-rat’/ Alert, bad man/ Damnable rat/ Bad maternal/ Am bad rental/ Real tab, damn/ Tear bald man/ Blamed a rant/ Tamable, darn
Denise Stapely = Destiny please/ A needless pity/ Despise neatly/ Steady in sleep
Katie Hanson = Hit on a snake/ Shake nation
Lisa Whelchel = We heal chills
Malcolm Freberg = Grab me from cell
Michael Skupin = Is human pickle/ A chipmunk lies/ I leak much spin/ Is unlike champ
R.C. Saint-Amour = Satanic rumo I scorn trauma/ In a cast-rumo Crams in a tou A rustic mano Am corsair nut/ Can arm suito Courts airman/ Is man-curato Ran custom ai Ration sacrum
Roxanne Morris = So annex mirror
Sarah Dawson = Now a hard ass/ Had no raw ass/ Has no awards/ Ran as shadow
~Caramoan~
Allie Pohevitz = Hip evil zealot/ I plot vile haze
Eddie Fox = Die foxed/ I’d feed ox
Hope Driskill = He drops, I kill/ Like lordship/ Killed his pro
Matt Bischoff = Bitch’s off mat/ Combat shift
Michael Snow = Slow machine/ A clownish me/ I shame clown/ In camel show/ He now claims / Cinema howls/ Chews on mail
Reynold Toepfer = Order foe plenty/ Pretend foolery/ Reported felony/ To freely ponde Deploy on ferret/ Eloped for entry/ Order pony fleet/ Poetry enfolder
Shamar Thomas = So asthma harm/ Harm a hot mass/ Has trash ammo
Sherri Biethman = Me in harsh tribe/ Him in her breast/ Am here in births/ I banish her, term/ I share birth, men/ Rebirth in shame
~Blood vs. Water~
Brad Culpepper = Clapper burped
Caleb Bankston = Can’t be so blank/ Slant backbone/ Bacon blankets
Hayden Moss = She’s dynamo!/ As shy demon/ Shamed nosy
Katie Collins = Lick toenails/ I slacken toil/ Ocean kills it/ Kill a section/ Catlike lions
Laura Boneham = A humane labo A lame hour ban/ A hoe ran album/ Aloha, unbar me/ Heal bun-aroma
Marissa Peterson = Not a sperm arises/ A sperm assertion/ Am a set prisone Rear-ass nepotism/Armpit’s seasone Arrest me, passion/ Arsonist rapes me/ Is men’s separato Arrest pains me so/ Asserts more pain/ Praise as monste Separates minors/ Passion-streame Mere star passion/ No arteries-spasm/ An opera mistress/ Mean pastor rises/ Aspersion maste Parrot as nemesis/ Tame as prisoners/ A rainstorm seeps
Rachel Foulger = Hour, grace fell/ Face log-hurle Flag cruel hero/ Her cougar fell/ Go half-cruele Our charge fell/ Furor hell cage/ Flag hoe-curle For huge recall/ Clog her earful/ Rare cough fell / For huge cellar
~Cagayan~
Brice Johnston = I scorn job then/ Jobs not enrich
David Samson = So damn diva/ Void damn ass
Garrett Adelstein = Get restraint deal/ Dates tit-enlarge Lasted retreating/ Let Tragedian rest/ Treat red genitals/ Designate rattle Restart a deleting
Jeremiah Wood = Hide major woe
J’Tia Taylor = Joy at trial
Lindsey Ogle = Godly senile/ End silly ego/ Does yelling/ I yelled song/ Long eyelids/ Eyeing dolls/ On edge, silly/ Need go silly/ Only leg dies/ Old sly genie/ Single yodel
LJ McKanas = Jams clank
Morgan McLeod = Am cold-monge Commander log/ Glad commone Command ogle Gold morn came
Trish Hegarty = Hearty rights/ She try aright/ Starry height/ Try high rates
Tony Vlachos = Vocal, not shy/ Not sly havoc
~San Juan del Sur~
Alec Christy = Has tricycle/ I trash cycle/ Cliché saty Scarcely hit/ Stray cliché/ Try chalices / Shy at circle/ Teach lyrics
Baylor Wilson = I slay lowborn/ So lowly brain
Dale Wentworth = At the new world/ Threw a letdown/ World went hate/ Drew not wealth/ Let down the wa We worth dental
Drew Christy = Hit, screw dry/ Is dry wretch/ Screwy third/ Switch dryer
Josh Canfield = Child of jeans
Missy Payne = Say my penis/ Yes, I spy, man/ My easy spin/ Yes, main spy
Natalie Anderson = Ends an alienato An anal desertion
Wes Nale = New sale/ See lawn
~Worlds Apart~
Carolyn Rivera = Carry in a love Carry novel air
Dan Foley = Only deaf/ Day-felon/ Yodel fan
Hali Ford = Hold fai Fold hair
Joaquin Souberbielle = Job be a queer illusion/ I one jealous quibbler
Kelly Remington = Enemy troll king/ Kill ten gory men/ Not grill my knee
Lindsey Cascaddan = Dances as candidly/ I access dandy land
Max Dawson = Was damn ox
Mike Holloway = Lame wily hook
Nina Poersch = Penis ancho Crash in open/ Nice orphans/ Shine on crap/ China person
Rodney LaVoie = A looney drive/ I do yearn love/ I lay overdone/ I loony evade Rely on a video
Sierra Thomas = I am star horse/ Is a smart hero/ Am so trashie A hermit soars/ Riot harass me/ Hear as I storm/ Her aroma sits/ A riot smashe Air harms toes/ Roar, hiss at me/ Air some trash
Tyler Fredrickson = Drink for secretly/ Lends for trickery/ Fry closet drinke Escort fly drinker
Vince Sly = Sync evil
Will Simpson = Won slim lips

She has the hairiest armpits in the history of armpits. She sits down raises her arm and says,"Bartender I would like a drink." Theres an old drunk sitting next to her. Slurring he says,"Barkeep I would like to buy the ballerina a drink." She accepts,drinks it,raises her arm again to get the bartender's attention, and orders another. The old man says,"Barkeep, you just keep giving the ballerina anything she wants" Finally, the bartender goes over to the drunk and says,"Sir that nice of you, but how do you know she's a ballerina?" The old man answers ,"Son, you don't get to be my age without learning that only ballerinas can lift their legs that high."