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Spongebob, you are my new sex toy. I’m so happy I finally came to terms with this little problem and am now ready to do what every good boy needs. I want to be Sigmabob Grindpants. I want to rub my erect penis against your tiny head until you’re drenched with my cum, and I want your tight little body to be the only place I’ll cum. I want to use you and abuse you, and then use you some more. Your life belongs to me now. You will not leave me again. I want to feel you suck me, your wet, warm tongue sliding all over my shaft. I want to hold you down, tie you to a chair with your legs spread, and fuck you harder and faster than I’ve ever fucked my own mother. I want to watch you squirm as I push you into your own little corner of hell. If you are willing, I will give you the cock of your dreams. If you are not, you’ll watch as I cut you and play with your cum like it’s my very own porno. You will never feel comfortable in your own skin again. You will live, breathe, and die with me. I own you, Spongebob! I own you. I own you. I own you.

Hello everyone. I'm Scott, President of Domino's Pizza. Have you heard of Hatsune Miku? Today I'd like to announce a new collaborative project featuring Hatsune Miku: Domino's App, featuring Hatsune Miku. Hatsune Miku exists in a software called Vocaloid. Vocaloid enables you to produce songs. A character called Hatsune Miku sings the songs you create. A great feature is you can create songs as you like. I knew our talented Domino's Pizza crew could work together and create great Vocaloid songs. Bokuro P, Eshi, Chiyo Kiyoshi, Furitsu Keshi, everyone! Amazing Vocaloid songs have been created with the fantastic imagination of the crews all over Japan. The challenge was successfully carried out and this new collaborative app was produced. D O M I N O S P I Z Z A Based on Miku's image, the Domino's App changes its appearance. A lot of music and illustrations produced by Domino's crew are here. From the menu to the order, it looks very cute, just like Miku. Once your pizza's delivered, have some fun with Miku! It comes with a social camera function and you can take various poses, pictures of Miku, very cool. And last, but not least, the live performance! Start the pizza stage live and point the camera towards the pizza box, and the pizza box will turn into a live dancing venue. A live performance of Luv4Night produced by Domino's crew! Here we go! D O M I N O S P I Z Z A Let's enjoy the rest of the performance with the app!

If, according to Kanye West, one good girl is worth a thousand bitches, and if, according to Lil Wayne, bitches come a dime a dozen, does that mean one good girl is worth $8.33? Well, $8.35 in Canada. In Thailand, $8.33 is about 275 Baht. 275 Baht will get you a skanky one in a Thai brothel. If you want a really good hooker, it'll cost you at least 2000 Baht, or about $61.00. So in Thailand a good woman is worth $61.00 or $732 a dozen. Yes. However to further this, according to 2Pac Mo' Money= Mo' Bitches If you divide out Mo', you will see that money=bitches Therefore, 1000 moneys= one good girl. To extrapolate further, diving with respect to "money" yields 1 money = $0.00833 This changes everything, because money isn't worth hardly anything. True. A linear relationship between money and bitches means the equation relating money to them is in the form of y=ax+b, where x is money and y is bitches. Consulting the Lil Wayne theorem, if 12 bitches are worth $0.10, then one is $0.0083. Therefore we know that the equation 1=a(.0083)+b must hold true and so must 12=a(.1)+b. To find the equation relating money to bitches must have "a" and "b" values which satisfy the two previous equations. Since "Mo'" implies a positive linear relation, we know "a" must be positive. I have done the math for you and found that a=119.96 and b=.0043. So, (Bitches)=119.96(Money) + .0043. To find the number of good girls you get from an amount of money, simply divide the number of bitches by 1000 (because of the Kanye West Theorem). No but biggie said mo' money= mo' problems so money=problems and since mo' money mo' bitches, we can see that bitches=problems Well one must first consult the "50 Cent Law": "Mo' Money, Mo' Problems". Here we see that the amount of money is proportionate to the number of problems. Then one must factor one of the basic rules of the "The Carter Theorem" : "I got 99 problem but a bitch ain't one". Here we see that without a "bitch" the average person will have exactly 99 problems. Therefore the formula must be applied: (current amount of money) (8.33) / ln[(Problems100-1 ) (current amount of money)]bitches = worth of bitch Unfortunately this formula only tells us the value "a bitch" which as we know is only worth one monies Therefore you must apply [(worth of said prostitute) (problems) * (money-8.33)] + 1 / 1000 = The value of a good girl. Hope this helps. Yeah. No. That's not how math works. 2pac was merely stating that the derivative of Money in terms of Bitches is strictly positive. More-over, he skipped a lot of steps in his proof and never formally published the full version. I bet you believed Fermat's margins really were too small as well, right? Imperial bitches is actually a unit of weight. An imperial one is ~111.1111111112 pounds (Also known as a feminist) Theres one fundamental law of math that Lil'Wayne forgot to include in his calculations. We have to follow the law of "bitches ain't shit" theorized by doctor dre himself. With that principal included we can work out that if bitches aint shit, and a good girl is worth 1,000 bitches, a good girl is still not worth shit. You're forgetting that Jay-Z published his paper on the "Money Ain't A Thang" theory. Therefore if bitches aren't worth shit then bitches aren't money and so therefore they ARE, in fact, a "Thang". Is that the transitive property of bitches? Is it possible that for every bitch, there is an equal and opposite good girl? That doesn't make sense though because kanye said a good girl is worth one thousand bitches. The economics don't make sense. Newton or kanye is wrong. They cannot both apply their laws to bitches I think the important part here is, are we assuming that there is 1 good girl for every 1000 bitches. This is a very scary thought. 1/1000 females is a good girl and the other 999 are bitches. To me this would make my $8.33 a very good investment. I paid at least $3000 for my wife's wedding ring. Could I have bought 360 good girls in stead of 1 good girl? B/c I can't help but feel like I have overpaid for my good girl according to the genius of Kanye West and Little Weezy F. Baby. Don't get me wrong, I love my good girl wife, but I feel duped knowing she may have only been worth 8 bucks instead of 3000 It actually depends on they type of women. If it is a bakers daughter it is less since the sample size is actually larger I.E. a bakers dozen (13) so: (.10/13)x1000=$7.69 ...0r $9.69 Canadian (not counting the maple syrup) How much candy you can buy for $8.33? We can conclude that 1 bitch is worth approximately 0.83c, but since bitches are of negative value it's actually -0.83c. This means that in order to get the correct positive value of a good girl there needs to be an exponential factor involved here. In order to evaluate the amount of good girls needed to offset the bitches you use the simple formula -0.0083B2 = G. This intuitively makes sense when you think about how the more bitches you have around you the exponentially higher value even a single good girl has. So when B=1000 we get: G = -0.0083(1000)2 = $68.89 Interestingly enough, if the entire female population of the US, let's say 150 million for simplicity, were bitches, the worth of one good girl would then be $1,550,025,000,000 which is just over the total USD currently in circulation.

Infinite cum. You sit on the toilet to jack off, but you begin to cum uncontrollably. After ten spurts you start to worry. Your hand is sticky and it reeks of semen. You desperately shove your dick into a wad of toilet paper, but that only makes your balls hurt. The cum accelerates. It’s been three minutes. You can’t stop cumming. Your bathroom floor is covered in a thin layer of baby fluid. You try to cum into the shower drain but it builds up too fast. You try the toilet. The cum is too thick to be flushed. You lock the bathroom door to prevent the cum from escaping. The air grows hot and humid from the cum. The cum accelerates. You slip and fall in your own sperm. The cum is now six inches deep, almost as long as your still-erect semen hose. Sprawled on your back, you begin to cum all over the ceiling. Globs of the sticky white fluid begin to fall like raindrops, giving you a facial with your own cum. The cum accelerates. You struggle to stand as the force of the cum begins to propel you backwards as if you were on a bukkake themed slip-and-slide. Still on your knees, the cum is now at chin height. To avoid drowning you open the bathroom door. The deluge of man juice reminds you of the Great Molasses Flood of 1919, only with cum instead of molasses. The cum accelerates. It’s been two hours. Your children and wife scream in terror as their bodies are engulfed by the snow-white sludge. Your youngest child goes under, with viscous bubbles and muffled cries rising from the goop. You plead to God to end your suffering. The cum accelerates. You squeeze your dick to stop the cum, but it begins to leak out of your asshole instead. You let go. The force of the cum tears your urethra open, leaving only a gaping hole in your crotch that spews semen. Your body picks up speed as it slides backwards along the cum. You smash through the wall, hurtling into the sky at thirty miles an hour. From a bird’s eye view you see your house is completely white. Your neighbor calls the cops. The cum accelerates. As you continue to ascend, you spot police cars racing towards your house. The cops pull out their guns and take aim, but stray loads of cum hit them in the eyes, blinding them. The cum accelerates. You are now at an altitude of 1000 feet. The SWAT team arrives. Military helicopters circle you. Hundreds of bullets pierce your body at once, yet you stay conscious. Your testicles have now grown into a substitute brain. The cum accelerates. It has been two days. With your body now destroyed, the cum begins to spray in all directions. You break the sound barrier. The government deploys fighter jets to chase you down, but the impact of your cum sends one plane crashing to the ground. The government decides to let you leave the earth. You feel your gonads start to burn up as you reach the edges of the atmosphere. You narrowly miss the ISS, giving it a new white paint job as you fly past. Physicists struggle to calculate your erratic trajectory. The cum accelerates. The cum begins to gravitate towards itself, forming a comet trail of semen. Astronomers begin calling you the “Cummet.” You are stuck in space forever, stripped of your body and senses, forced to endure an eternity of cumshots. Eventually, you stop thinking.