For me, it's the McChicken. The best fast food sandwich. I even ask for extra McChicken sauce packets and the staff is so friendly and more than willing to oblige.
One time I asked for McChicken sauce packets and they gave me three. I said, "Wow, three for free!" and the nice friendly McDonald's worker laughed and said, "I'm going to call you 3-for-free!".
Now the staff greets me with "hey it's 3-for-free!" and ALWAYS give me three packets. It's such a fun and cool atmosphere at my local McDonald's restaurant, I go there at least 3 times a week for lunch and a large iced coffee with milk instead of cream, 1-2 times for breakfast on the weekend, and maybe once for dinner when I'm in a rush but want a great meal that is affordable, fast, and can match my daily nutritional needs.
I even dip my fries in McChicken sauce, it's delicious! What a great restaurant.
(▀̿Ĺ̯├┬┴┬┴ Psst... kid, you wanna disable adblock?
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Windmill of Friendship
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imaqtpie
Hey, vsauce, Micheal here! Why is my peepee hard? Or is it?
Hey, vsauce, Micheal here!
Why is my peepee hard? Or is it?
Well, ya see, we need to start with the peepee itself. The hardening of the peepee is called an erection.
Erection.
The term itself shares a similarity with our own predecessors, Homo Erectus. That's Latin for Gay Straight. So, naturally, we can start to fill in the picture. Our predecessors, Gay Straights, also had hard peepees. Which brings us back to modern day erections. You see, an erection is a signal to tell you that you are gay, a leftover device from the era of Gay Straights.
But what is "gay"?
To quote Nelson Mandela, "To be gay is not to love others. It is to love yourself and to stay true in the face of many hardships and hard dicks." In Layman's terms, Nelson Mandela is trying to tell us to go fuck ourselves. This is vital to know because it puts into perspective the absolute size of gayness itself, divided into unique homogenous subgroups. Such a diverse range is exactly why the flag of LGBTQBBQ communities is a rainbow.
But, you ask, how does this tie in to what gay Is? I'm getting there. Gay is a slang term for homosexual, which is to have sexual interest in someone of the same gender as yourself. To see more on the topic of gender, click the annotation on my face now for a playlist of videos specifically on the subject. So, to answer your question, your peepee is hard because you're gay.
Hopefully today's little snippet was a good brain train for you. If you'd like to find other fun ways to test your mind mettle, click the annotation up here to go see some of my huge DONGs. And, as always, thanks for watching.
FLIP THAT TABLE
I finally did it. I out-pizza'd the Hut
I finally did it. I out-pizza'd the Hut. It was the greatest mistake of my life.
After years of perfecting my recipe, I made my way down to the local hut, fresh-baked pizza pie in hand. "Try this," I told the kid working the counter. He did, and he had to agree that it was better than anything Pizza Hut had to offer. Soon, the entire store, customers included, was feasting on my delicious pie. The manager walked over, grabbed a slice, and took a bite. I look at him, anticipation rising. This was the boss, the local fief lord of the Hut. His approval meant more to me than all the rest combined. He took a bite and nodded. "I'll be damned," he said, "you really did it. You out-pizza'd the Hut. Shame." Shame? What did he mean by tha- the manager pulled a gun out from behind his apron and shot the nearest customer in the head. "We have a Code Jalapeño," he said into his wrist as he executed the remaining customers. "I repeat, we have a Code Jalapeño." The ground was slick with blood. The kid working the counter choked out his dying breath as the manager turned to me. "You just had to do it motherfucker. You just had to out-pizza the Hut." He shoved the gun in my face. I was too scared to fight, too scared to run. The manager pulled the trigger.
A click. The gun was empty. I threw a chair at the manager and scrambled out of the Pizza Hut, not even bothering to see if my missile hit its mark. I was closely pursued by the manager, who had gotten his hands on a deadly sharp pizza cutter. I suspected in his hands it would cut more than pizza. Somehow, I was able to get into my car and speed off, the manager cursing my existence as I left him behind. I took a deep breath. The manager was clearly psychotic. Yes, that was it, just a crazy man with a gun. It had to be. My phone rang. Sister. I picked it. "They're dead, she sobbed. They're all dead. M-mom, dad, Chris, Bill. Dead. They killed them all." I could barely understand her, so great were her sobs. "What do you mean? Where are you?" I asked urgently. "How is this possi-" a single gunshot sounded through my phone's speakers. Silence. Then, I heard a man's voice. "No one out-pizzas the Hut." He hung up. I drove down the empty county road, mind blank. I had nothing. They killed my family. I was alone.
At that moment I knew what I had to do. They took everything from me. Well then, I would take everything from them. Pizza Hut was so terrified of being out-pizza'd, they forgot there's one thing worse than a man with a recipe: A man with nothing to lose. I'll give them a limited time offer they won't be able to refuse: two bullets for the price of one.
With a free side order of pain.