CookingDom
Top, middle, bottom?
- Joined
- Nov 10, 2010
- Posts
- 119
Originally found here.. http://justsomeguyiguess.wordpress.com/2013/03/03/on-being-a-true-ass-dominant-man/
...NOT written by me but made me chuckle.
WOMEN, EH? PSSSSHHHHHHH.
That was the sound of me opening a beer with my balls. I punched a church earlier, DOM as fuck. Bits of chocolate came shooting out of my mouth as I laughed about it, landing in the eyes of homeless children, nearby housewives tutting and sighing while mentally storing the scene for playback during masturbation later that evening. Want to know how to spoil a woman? Buy a caravan with her credit card, and fill it with piss. If she complains, kick her tits off while yelling at her clit.
If you disagree, you’re obviously not MAX DARKCORE enough for this stuff. Not until you’ve made a woman stuff a teabag and some popping candy up her vagina, at a funeral. You also need to train your cock to uppercut women into crying. Plus you gotta do sixty backflips a day. And wank using sandbags taped to your elbows. Operate the TV remote with a shovel. Cackle like a war criminal whenever taking a shit. Eat Pot Noodles DRY, or at least ignore the recommended water-fill level. Slap the dishes clean. Dance to Wham!, then do press-ups in the back of the taxi on the way to the local munch, aka Ross Kemp expo, fuck yes.
I’m so dominant, I crap pensive shadows and flattering Photoshop filters. And exploding money. You wanna be this DOM AS FUCK? Then you also gotta be intelligents. I got loads of intelligents. Always got like three or four intelligents on the go at the same time. You want one? Here you go. PSYCHE! That’s just a sock with a face drawn on.
Having said all that, ‘Dom’ is just an indicator, not a qualification, y’know? Dudes can give you pointers, but it’s a shared state that you enter with a compatible person. Ha ha, just kidding. Women (i.e. sluts) love a sense of humour. For example:
Why did the Dom cross the road? BECAUSE BITCHES GOTTA LEARN.
Serious, if you wanna be dominant as me, start shaving with a house brick, and if anyone looks you in the eye, ram your spontaneously concrete-hard cock down their throat while grunting The Ride of the Valkyries. And the absolute most important part about being a Dom is introducing gravel to your digestive system, at this point you unlock the special hat, wear it with pride and a cumface from hell.
Making a cup of tea should involve at least three police sirens. By this point you should be able to apply nipple clamps by throwing them from across a football pitch. The only sport you now enjoy is FUCKBALL. Anyone who doesn’t have your cock inside them is disabled. From here on in, everything in your life is operated by shouting. You move from place to place by spinning around with your fists outstretched.
Welcome to the club, son. That covers about 50% of what it is to be a pro-spec Alpha Male. The other 50% is a combination of schadenfreude, Nazi memorabilia and disco titties.
I’d show you more, but I have to go to Tesco pretty soon. I’ll probably drop an ALPHA bomb at the meat counter, before choking a coupla bitches at the checkout, and paying with my biceps. Carrier bags? Ha ha fuck you, I’ll just stare my groceries home, while spanking some 18-year-old PA from Croydon.
Then I’ll watch season 4 of RuPaul’s Drag Race.
...NOT written by me but made me chuckle.
WOMEN, EH? PSSSSHHHHHHH.
That was the sound of me opening a beer with my balls. I punched a church earlier, DOM as fuck. Bits of chocolate came shooting out of my mouth as I laughed about it, landing in the eyes of homeless children, nearby housewives tutting and sighing while mentally storing the scene for playback during masturbation later that evening. Want to know how to spoil a woman? Buy a caravan with her credit card, and fill it with piss. If she complains, kick her tits off while yelling at her clit.
If you disagree, you’re obviously not MAX DARKCORE enough for this stuff. Not until you’ve made a woman stuff a teabag and some popping candy up her vagina, at a funeral. You also need to train your cock to uppercut women into crying. Plus you gotta do sixty backflips a day. And wank using sandbags taped to your elbows. Operate the TV remote with a shovel. Cackle like a war criminal whenever taking a shit. Eat Pot Noodles DRY, or at least ignore the recommended water-fill level. Slap the dishes clean. Dance to Wham!, then do press-ups in the back of the taxi on the way to the local munch, aka Ross Kemp expo, fuck yes.
I’m so dominant, I crap pensive shadows and flattering Photoshop filters. And exploding money. You wanna be this DOM AS FUCK? Then you also gotta be intelligents. I got loads of intelligents. Always got like three or four intelligents on the go at the same time. You want one? Here you go. PSYCHE! That’s just a sock with a face drawn on.
Having said all that, ‘Dom’ is just an indicator, not a qualification, y’know? Dudes can give you pointers, but it’s a shared state that you enter with a compatible person. Ha ha, just kidding. Women (i.e. sluts) love a sense of humour. For example:
Why did the Dom cross the road? BECAUSE BITCHES GOTTA LEARN.
Serious, if you wanna be dominant as me, start shaving with a house brick, and if anyone looks you in the eye, ram your spontaneously concrete-hard cock down their throat while grunting The Ride of the Valkyries. And the absolute most important part about being a Dom is introducing gravel to your digestive system, at this point you unlock the special hat, wear it with pride and a cumface from hell.
Making a cup of tea should involve at least three police sirens. By this point you should be able to apply nipple clamps by throwing them from across a football pitch. The only sport you now enjoy is FUCKBALL. Anyone who doesn’t have your cock inside them is disabled. From here on in, everything in your life is operated by shouting. You move from place to place by spinning around with your fists outstretched.
Welcome to the club, son. That covers about 50% of what it is to be a pro-spec Alpha Male. The other 50% is a combination of schadenfreude, Nazi memorabilia and disco titties.
I’d show you more, but I have to go to Tesco pretty soon. I’ll probably drop an ALPHA bomb at the meat counter, before choking a coupla bitches at the checkout, and paying with my biceps. Carrier bags? Ha ha fuck you, I’ll just stare my groceries home, while spanking some 18-year-old PA from Croydon.
Then I’ll watch season 4 of RuPaul’s Drag Race.
