<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7897123326333119870</id><updated>2012-02-15T23:26:17.491-08:00</updated><category term='My Roommate'/><category term='Roommate'/><category term='Retard'/><title type='text'>I Did A Horrible Thing</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ididahorriblething.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7897123326333119870/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ididahorriblething.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>I Did A Horrible Thing</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05752497526157517694</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>7</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7897123326333119870.post-7289485596752972085</id><published>2008-10-21T21:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-21T22:01:10.547-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Stupid Bitch Would Not Let Me Sleep</title><content type='html'>Me and this fine, young &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;hottie&lt;/span&gt; fucked like maniacs last night. By the way, If you see me, don't try and high five me. I will kick you in the fucking balls, you twat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I woke up with a smile on my face. It had been a while since The Anteater got any attention. And while I would much rather have &lt;a href="http://ididahorriblething.blogspot.com/2008/10/neighbors-retard-makes-me-horny.html"&gt;the neighbor's retard&lt;/a&gt; pleasure my filthy cock, this bitch did just fine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This morning she licked her own vaginal juice crust out of my foreskin, and when I came, she decided she wanted to cuddle. This is an absolute no no. I pushed her away, and she looked at me coyly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Do you want to return the favor?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I explained this was not going to happen. "No, I don't do that. Pussies smell like garbage. I can only imagine what they taste like."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I assumed this would have made her jump out of her bed and storm downstairs in a huff so I could sleep. I was dead &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;wrong&lt;/span&gt;, and it just made her want to cuddle with me even more. So I decided I needed to turn it up a little.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I asked her, "Remember last night I said we should use a condom?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Uh huh."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Fantastic, and remember you said no?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Uh huh."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"That's good, that's good. Remember I said I wanted to use protection because I wasn't sure if you have HIV?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Uh huh."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Delightful. And remember you said you don't have HIV and that you know this because you were just tested?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Uh huh."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Fabulous. Guess what? You have HIV now. I was just tested too."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And with that little white lie, my one night stand went sobbing away. Now I can fucking sleep.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7897123326333119870-7289485596752972085?l=ididahorriblething.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ididahorriblething.blogspot.com/feeds/7289485596752972085/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7897123326333119870&amp;postID=7289485596752972085' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7897123326333119870/posts/default/7289485596752972085'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7897123326333119870/posts/default/7289485596752972085'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ididahorriblething.blogspot.com/2008/10/stupid-bitch-would-not-let-me-sleep.html' title='The Stupid Bitch Would Not Let Me Sleep'/><author><name>I Did A Horrible Thing</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05752497526157517694</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7897123326333119870.post-6982327021379624056</id><published>2008-10-20T20:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-20T21:01:47.988-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Something Sweet For Candi</title><content type='html'>If there is one person in the world I hate more than my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;roommate&lt;/span&gt;, it is his girlfriend. Quite &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;possibly&lt;/span&gt; one of the most mentally vacant people I have ever met, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Roommate's&lt;/span&gt; Girlfriend, Candi, has the ability to make my worst days even more frightening.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For the past few weeks, Candi has been fucking up the bathroom setup. She leaves her dental floss and mouthwash out as if to tell me, "Hey, I am so proud of my mouth, and it shows." I've got something you can stick in your mouth. That's right, Candi, I'm suggesting you stick my cock in your mouth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And as much as I'd like to shove my wilted, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;un&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;circumcised&lt;/span&gt; love sausage in Candi's word-maker, I have yet to corner the dumb whore. So until I can figure out a way to get my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;roommate&lt;/span&gt; out of the apartment so I can entice the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;vacuous&lt;/span&gt; bitch with my pole o' devastation, I have to find out another way to get this dumb bitch to suffer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's why I devised a little trick I like to call the Face Distorter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night, while Candi and The &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Roommate&lt;/span&gt; were in bed spooning like a couple of faggots, I snuck into the restroom. I poured some rubbing alcohol into Candi's contact solution, some h&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;abanero&lt;/span&gt; juice into her face &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;moisturizer&lt;/span&gt; and a big load of The Wilted Anteaters spit into her mouthwash.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And it was beautiful. This morning, I heard Candi go to the restroom. I waited a few minutes and then it happened. A terrible scream. I stepped into the hallway and watched sad Candi emerge, face reddened, eye's watering and mouth puckered up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I really want her to blow me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7897123326333119870-6982327021379624056?l=ididahorriblething.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ididahorriblething.blogspot.com/feeds/6982327021379624056/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7897123326333119870&amp;postID=6982327021379624056' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7897123326333119870/posts/default/6982327021379624056'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7897123326333119870/posts/default/6982327021379624056'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ididahorriblething.blogspot.com/2008/10/something-sweet-for-candi.html' title='Something Sweet For Candi'/><author><name>I Did A Horrible Thing</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05752497526157517694</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7897123326333119870.post-5223032539752796416</id><published>2008-10-17T13:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-17T13:09:29.906-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='My Roommate'/><title type='text'>A Visit With Hitler's Little Helper</title><content type='html'>"Listen to me you maniac, you Jew-killer.  I know who you are.  I know what you did, and I am going to make you pay for the blood that you spilled.  When you go to sleep, I am going to murder you.  It might not be tonight.  It may be next week or next month, but one of these nights, I am going to sneak in through the window."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The old man stirred a little bit.  His eyes welled up with tears.  The breathing tube in his neck allowed for only a partially audible gurgle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I know you were at Auschwitz.  I know you pulled gold teeth from the bodies of those corpses after they were gassed with Zyklon B."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His eyes welled up.  He let out another gurgle.  He was terrified.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"So, now I am going to do the same to you.  I am going to sneak in while you sleep.  You will know it is me because I will whisper into your demon ears, 'I'm here to make you pay the piper.'  Then I will snap your teeth from your jaw, pluck your eyes from their sockets and bleed you like a pig."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I stood up, as the door opened.  It was my roommate.  He thanked me for visiting his half-senile grandfather who resided at Solomon Goldstein's Jewish Hospice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I was just telling your grandfather about my unfortunate break-up with that nice Jewish girl I was dating."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My roommate told me that my story probably reminded grandpa of his Holocaust victim wife, Estelle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate my roommate’s grandpa, too.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7897123326333119870-5223032539752796416?l=ididahorriblething.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ididahorriblething.blogspot.com/feeds/5223032539752796416/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7897123326333119870&amp;postID=5223032539752796416' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7897123326333119870/posts/default/5223032539752796416'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7897123326333119870/posts/default/5223032539752796416'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ididahorriblething.blogspot.com/2008/10/visit-with-hitlers-little-helper.html' title='A Visit With Hitler&apos;s Little Helper'/><author><name>I Did A Horrible Thing</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05752497526157517694</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7897123326333119870.post-155102743909846354</id><published>2008-10-16T13:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-16T13:25:36.952-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Pukey Road</title><content type='html'>You don't like puke, right?  I'm pretty sure no one does.  It's a common hate or phobia like how people feel about pollution and Mexicans.  So I decided to put this little nugget of fact to use in a little prank I call Pukey Road.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I went to the park down the street from work earlier and bought an ice cream.  I then swallowed the whole scoop all at once, which fucked up my stomach and made me hork it back up.  Using my puke-aiming skills (also valuable in my other prank, Puke In Your Mouth While You're Asleep), I got the remains of the scoop back onto the cone, slightly melted and definitely coated with my stomach juices and some of my lunch (tacos).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I looked around until I found a kid on the playground who looked like their parents didn't give a shit about them.  I found a little black kid wearing what looked like a blanket fashioned into something resembling clothes.  He must have been 4 or 9 or something.  I gave him my single scoop with extra toppings and that little shit started EATING it.  Then I guess he didn't like it because he puked all over his blanket-like shirt.  But for just a moment, my puke was inside a child.  It's the little things, man.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7897123326333119870-155102743909846354?l=ididahorriblething.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ididahorriblething.blogspot.com/feeds/155102743909846354/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7897123326333119870&amp;postID=155102743909846354' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7897123326333119870/posts/default/155102743909846354'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7897123326333119870/posts/default/155102743909846354'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ididahorriblething.blogspot.com/2008/10/you-dont-like-puke-right-im-pretty-sure.html' title='Pukey Road'/><author><name>I Did A Horrible Thing</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05752497526157517694</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7897123326333119870.post-6232804752164542691</id><published>2008-10-15T13:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-15T14:07:35.060-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Retard'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Roommate'/><title type='text'>The Neighbor's Retard Makes Me Horny</title><content type='html'>My next door neighbor has a retard.  I am not sure if the mentally handicapped thing is a girl or a guy.  Everyone with Down's Syndrome looks the same whether they're a girl retard or a boy retard.  The thing I like about this particular retard is that it has beautiful, luscious lips.  I've watched it sucking on mud pies it clumsily constructed in the backyard.  It makes me so hard.  I usually masturbate into the urn holding the ashes of my roommate's dead grandmother as I watch that beautiful mongoloid figure out simple things.  But I want to cum in that mental corpse’s mouth. I need to figure out how I can get that sludge-eating beast to blow me and suck down one of my loads.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm going to mix in some Valium into the mud in the neighbor's backyard.  That might make things easier.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Updates as they are warranted.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7897123326333119870-6232804752164542691?l=ididahorriblething.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ididahorriblething.blogspot.com/feeds/6232804752164542691/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7897123326333119870&amp;postID=6232804752164542691' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7897123326333119870/posts/default/6232804752164542691'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7897123326333119870/posts/default/6232804752164542691'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ididahorriblething.blogspot.com/2008/10/neighbors-retard-makes-me-horny.html' title='The Neighbor&apos;s Retard Makes Me Horny'/><author><name>I Did A Horrible Thing</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05752497526157517694</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7897123326333119870.post-422953259138217930</id><published>2008-10-14T13:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-14T13:53:44.005-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Fuck You, Coworker</title><content type='html'>One of my coworkers wouldn't stop talking about Heroes, the TV show.  Have you seen Heroes?  It's basically a show about a bunch of Special Olympics contestants who can fly and run fast and shit.  I hate that show.  I hate my coworker.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's a time to sit idly by and a time to act.  Today was an acting day.  This coworker (his name is Mike Edwards, okay? Go burn his house down) was rambling on about Tardoes and apparently got parched, so he went to the water cooler to get some water.  While he was gone, I dug the biggest booger I could manage out of my nose and wiped it on the back of his chair.  He didn't notice and sat back against it.  He had my gigantic nose prize on the back of his shirt for the rest of the day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That made my day.  GOD, I hate that guy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7897123326333119870-422953259138217930?l=ididahorriblething.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ididahorriblething.blogspot.com/feeds/422953259138217930/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7897123326333119870&amp;postID=422953259138217930' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7897123326333119870/posts/default/422953259138217930'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7897123326333119870/posts/default/422953259138217930'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ididahorriblething.blogspot.com/2008/10/fuck-you-coworker.html' title='Fuck You, Coworker'/><author><name>I Did A Horrible Thing</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05752497526157517694</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7897123326333119870.post-358541550012375607</id><published>2008-10-13T11:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-13T11:45:59.359-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='My Roommate'/><title type='text'>I Want My Roommate To Die</title><content type='html'>I don't know how much longer I can live with my roommate.  He sickens me.  He has a carefree attitude that makes me want to stab myself in the crotch.  No matter what I do, my roommate smiles.  He smiles and he smiles and he smiles.  The other day I used his toothbrush to scour the dried shit from my asshole.  There were flecks of feces on his toothbrush, and when he noticed it, he just threw it away and bought another one at CVS. He picked up a new toothbrush for me as well.  He smiled at me when he gave me the new toothbrush.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to sharpen the end of the toothbrush and stab my roommate in the neck with it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7897123326333119870-358541550012375607?l=ididahorriblething.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ididahorriblething.blogspot.com/feeds/358541550012375607/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7897123326333119870&amp;postID=358541550012375607' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7897123326333119870/posts/default/358541550012375607'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7897123326333119870/posts/default/358541550012375607'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ididahorriblething.blogspot.com/2008/10/i-want-my-roommate-to-die.html' title='I Want My Roommate To Die'/><author><name>I Did A Horrible Thing</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05752497526157517694</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
