loltech

Greeting and welcome to another edition of “What does Justin hate this week?” Hold on to your old timey hats and your monocles, as the answer may totally shock…… IT’S YOU! I want to give a special loltech welcome to all my new readers. I have no idea who you are or where you come from, but go ahead and start typing up a form letter for complaints when I inevitably call you a cumsnorting jizzbag.

Lets get into it shall we? Unlike my meticulously planned and exhaustively researched blog posts of the past, this fucker has no set topic. I’m just going to type stuff until I feel like stoping or have to go and take one of my state required hourly masturbation breaks. Lets start with a topic I have never touched on before; anger.

Alright, its week 3 of Diabetathon 2009 and I’m already used to it, its just another thing I have to do. There is one thing I will bever get used to though, even though I will have diabetes for the rest of my life. Sugar free Redbull. Anyone who knows me is aware that to raise me in the morning you need at least 3 redbulls, or some form of necromancy. The sugar free ones though, holy fuck. They taste like Amy Winehouse drunk a carton full strength redbull and washed it down with a bucket of industrial strength cleaner, then pissed the entire contents directly into my mouth. It’s like drinking the battery acid of a retard bus. So I’m stuck drinking this horrible swill for the rest of time, and its put me in a pretty bad mood. Hey redbull you cunts! I obviously see the reason why you took the sugar out of your sugar free redbull, but why the fuck did you replace it with EJACULATE?

So I’ve been thinking lately about the actions of my peers, particularly in regards to their leisure time. I’m a fucking antisocial hermit that is one step away from buying a decades supply of canned goods and fucking digging myself a bunker. The only time I leave the house other than for work is to go with Fatson once a week to shopping centers to wander around and make fun of gross fag-creatures. I was informed by Shona as we’re basically doing just what I described, that this is a fairly non standard method of fun having. I guess shes right. Apparently in societies eyes, the only fucking sane and rational way to spend an evening is facedown in a toilet throwing up the $150 bucks you just spent on drinks. You people sicken me. Here’s the thing; I’ve been drunk 3 times in my life. I don’t remember any of it, and the next day I felt like I had been hit by a truck filled with liquefied terrible. So why the FUCK are all you fags so in love with it? I tell you what, how about I spike your drink and then anally violate you? You still wont remember, and you will still feel terrible the next day, but at least i got to stick it in your pooper.

Next up: Dragonball Z. Or as it should be known “We Scream and Power up. 15 minute stares edition.” This show, and others like it; e.g Naruto, Bleach etc, are the worst things to happen since the Holocaust. Here is a plot synopsis of all of them. Main Dude fights the most powerful guy in the universe and loses. He goes away and trains, comes back and defeats him. New most powerful guy from the Nega-universe shows up. Main Dude fights the most powerful guy in the Nega-universe and loses. He goes away and trains, come back and defeats him. Stupid comedy episode. New most powerful guy in the Ultra-universe shows up. Justin puts his face against a bench-grinder. I remember back when I watched DBZ when I was younger, there was an episode where the most powerful guy in the universe Frieza, threw a stupid magic power ball into the core of a planet and told the Main Dude Goku that the planet would now explode in 5 minutes. LITERALLY 6 episodes of screaming and powering up later, Frieza informs Goku that there was now 3 minutes until the planet blows up. THAT WAS LITERALLY FUCKING 2 HOURS IN REAL TIME FRIEZA YOU FUCKING BLUE LIPSTICK WEARING CUNT! It took fucking 2 real time hours to progress 2 in show minutes. FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF.

Around this same time Goku performed a move known as a Spirit Bomb. To do this he has to, and say it with me everyone; SCREAM AND POWER UP. The thing is, it took 3 whole episodes of him standing there with his arms in the air going HRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR while a giant ball of magic power grew bigger and bigger above him. What does his mortal enemy Frieza, that he has been fighting for the last 23 episodes and who has just murdered one of his friends do? He stands there and soliloquises about how powerful that move is and how he cant defeat it. Look man, here is a cunning strategy. If a dude is standing there with is eyes closed concentrating with all his strength on the giant and invincible super-weapon he is constructing, and paying no attention to you whatsoever, you don’t have to be an invincible kung fu master to walk up and kick him in the balls. You don’t even have to do that, just walk the fuck off.

Here is a clip I found on youtube. The first 30 seconds sums up the entire 200+ episodes in a perfect nutshell. You can turn it off after that, or you can watch the whole thing and see some other examples of awesomeness. For instance, every line of dialogue in the entire show is one of 5 things:

• 1. Unintelligible screams.
• 2. Speeches about how powerful, or how weak somebody is.
• 3. Screaming of characters names by their friends. GOKU! KRILLIN! VEGETA!
• 4. Stupid tryhard comedy by Roshi.
• 5. Discussions about how someone has powered up, should power up, or cant power up any further.

Here is another tip, this time to Goku. Look cunt, if someone comes from the future to tell you about an evil menace that has reduced his civilisation to cinders, and you kick its evil ass, DONT give it time to power up to its full potential, ESPECIALLY if it tells you that’s what it’s going to fucking DO! When the evil death monster triples in size and grows 14 dicks, after hes done anally raping you and destroying your planet, boy will your face, and ass I guess, be red. God damn I fucking hate that show.

Alright, that’s it for today. Time to go play some LotRO. I’m so fucking angry at Dragonball Z right now I could fucking SCREAM. And power up.

Imasen out.

Greeting me fans, it’s that time again, when I drop some knowledge on you so hard it hurts. Today I was looking at the stats for the site and I noticed that someone had found it by googling the phrase “fucking my sleeping sister”. I have no idea what to do with information. On the one hand…. the fuck? Why am I a trusted name in the fast paced world of incest? On the other hand…. fuck yeah! I’m a trusted name in the fast paced world of incest! I’ve always wanted to be called as an expert witness at a criminal trial, and my only criteria to be called on previously was if a murder case depended on expert analysis of masturbation techniques. Now I can apparently add “Professional incest expert” to my portfolio. Take that Dr. Stephen Hawking! Now I have 2 things on you, masturbation AND expert incest testimony. How about you write A Brief History of Time…OF MY BALLS.

So I was talking to Shona the other night about why I’m so amazing and what she can do to be more like me. And as chats between stupidly attractive and universally loved internet superstar bloggers and their willing female groupies are bound to do, the conversation turned towards sex. More specifically, the retarded red-headed step cousin of sex, masturbation. Shona used the word “wank” several times to describe the act. Wank to me is a hilarious word, it’s so very British. It sounds like something you do in a monocle and tophat while out foxhunting. “Jeeves, fetch me the water based lubricant and my nipslip photo of Her Majesty would you my good man? I’m going to have a jolly good wank, wot”.  This paragraph had nothing to do with the rest of the post, I just really wanted you all to enjoy the mental image of a nipslip photo of the Queen. Please send all complaints and stabbings to my representative Michael Cosoleto.

Ok, so lets talk awhile about the opposite of sex; comics. My representative and I went into the city yesterday to do some manly pushups and arm wrestles in between shopping for picture books. I have to say, I’m very disappointed in Perth’s comic shops, you think that a store whose main function it is to supply comics, would carry more than 5 total. Even so, with supplies being limited, I still bought 3 collections. Two were super awesome and not at all gay copies of Captain America. The other is a comic known as “Spider-man loves Mary Jane” a story about MJ and her friends dealing with teen problems at highschool. It’s basically “Spider-man and Pacey love Dawson. In the butt”. It might very well be the only comic specifically targeted at girls on the whole market. Hey, FUCK YOU ok? It’s awesome. On /co/ we call it “Bitches love Spider-man” and it is widely loved by many non-gay comic fans. Yes I know, I walked past 500 copies of “Wolverine stabs a guy 2: The stabbening” and “Essential Batman Volume 4: My Parents are STILL DEAAAADDD!” and “Superman: Still a boring cunt” but look, sometimes I want to read about how bad cheerleading practice was, ok?

So I take my comics up to the counter with Fatson teasing me all the way about my choice. I get to the counter and this is the conversation that follows:

• Counter nerd: Is this for your girlfriend?
• Me: No, just for me.
• Counter Nerd: Oh. Well, I read this to my daughter and she loved it.
• Me: Nope, still just for me.
• Him: Oh.

By this time Fatson has had to turn away to laugh at my complete pwnage, and yeah, I got pretty well raped there. I felt slightly less stupid after the next exchange, and slightly more homicidal.

• Me: Do you have volume one of Runaways?
• Counter nerd: The full size version or the pocket size?
• Me: Either.
• Counter nerd: We have neither.

Look cunt, why the fuck would you ask if I want the normal size or small one if you don’t have either. RICHAAAAARRRRDDS!!!!!! Motherfucker, if you can’t even use your powers of deductive reasoning to figure out that I may want to purchase the book I’m asking to purchase, don’t be getting all up in my grill about reading a book for girls. Fucker.

That’s all for today kids, I have to go and finish reading Spider-man loves Mary Jane and change my tampon. For more of my recent adventures, head on over and visit Fatson Cosoleto for his perspective on things. Imasen out.

Seriously.

So I was contacted recently by one of my millions of female admirers and she told me some stories of horror about Morley, the suburb in which she works. And in an effort to get into her pants for some sweet, sweet loving, I told her some hilarious tales of my experiences living in the area. It reminded me of a few things I’d forgotten about, so I’m writing some of them for you now. Here is a first hand look at the sheer asstardery I’m forced deal with daily. Oh and if any other hot female reader want to contact me, feel free to send any photos of yourself dressed as Emma Frost to imasen@loltech.org. I will make it worth your while. With my penis.

Ok, so generally the suburb I live in is pretty quiet. It’s mostly filled with old fuckers who love nothing more than to complain about kids these days, and reminisce about fighting the Krauts or whatever the fuck. But for some reason, the area DIRECTLY around where I live is a cesspool of douchebaggery. Originally I bought a video camera to film my neighbours through their windows while they were in the shower. A sound and foolproof plan right? I didn’t count on one thing though, the residents of my block of flats look like the cast of “The hills have eyes” were raped by the Predator then boiled alive in a vat of battery acid. And that is just the relatively attractive ones. There was this one woman who made me dry retch when I saw her from a distance. If she ever got closer than 20 metres I wouldn’t be typing this now, I would be in a mental institute scrawling it on the walls of my padded cell with my own shit. This ham scented nightmare of a woman, lets call her “Uglo-fatica” (I generally refer to her as  “HOLY FUCK WHAT HAPPENED TO YOUR FACE YOU BUTTERY BEAST!”) is the star of my first tale of woe.

 So it’s about 2am one summer night, and I’m chilling at the computer pwning some noobs in WoW. I’m sitting there and all of a sudden I start hearing yelling coming from what sounds like right outside my door. I listen to the yelling for a bit an I start to hear a scuffle. Then the melodious sounds of Ulgo-fatica reach my ears. This bitches voice is about as pretty as her pork-stained face. She sounds like The Nanny singing Nickleback while Steve Urkel rapes a screeching cat that is dragging its claws down a chalkboard in a steel mill. This gross fat ocker slut is screaming “smash him, kick his ass, fuck him up!” in that order, over and over again. I open the door and the neighbours from 1 side of me and the ones from the OTHER side of me are having a brawl DIRECTLY on my front doorstep. I’m amused by this so I pull up a chair and watch. Its night so its hard to see but the cries of agony and the fat slut constantly screaming her same line over and over make for compelling viewing. They fight for what seems like 30 minutes until the cops roll up and break it up. The cops are interviewing the fags and one of the neighbours turns to me who’s still standing at my door and goes “this doesn’t concern you mate”. I immediately fire back “it seems to fucking concern my front doorstep at 3am ‘mate’” and stay exactly where I am. I hear the fat beast tell the cops what they were fighting about. When I hear her explanation I instantly have to close the door and roll on the floor for a few days laughing. Oh yes, the reason for the huge 4 man brawl at 2am in the morning? They were fighting over her. Yep, 4 grown men were fighting over the ugliest creature outside of the deep sea, who coincidentally was about the size of 4 grown men.  None of them live here anymore thankfully, if there is any justice in the world the fat slurry ate all of them and died.

That was the first brawl on my doorstep. The second one I don’t know the details of, but it also occurred early in the morning, but this time it involved knives. That’s right, 2 dudes had a knife fight on my doorstep. I lol’d.

What else…Oh yeah, for a while when I first moved in the flat next door was home to a prostitute. At all hours of the day I could hear constant fake moans of ecstasy. I didn’t ever see the hooker, but I hope to all that is good and holy that it wasn’t fucking Uglo-fatica. My penis would not be able to handle that information. Speaking of penis, that brings me to my next story. So for about a week in my suburb, there was a rash of vandalism. Some cockmonglers went around spraypainting peoples cars at night. My block of flats got hit pretty hard. Some windscreens got sprayed over, shit like that. One guy got his entire car sprayed all over. How bad I got done is a matter of some debate, it really depends on your level of shame. I had a giant 4 foot cock spraypainted down the side of my car. Awwwww yeahhhh. It was pretty awesome. I actually drove around for about 6 months with it on my car because I couldn’t be fucked cleaning it off. I got some strage looks at traffic lights I tell you what. If anybody ever asked, and believe me, people asked, I would just tell them that I was advertising. To be honest, I kind of miss it. It would still be there to this day if someone hadn’t cleaned it off when it went in for a service.

I have more stories, like the time my cousin and I rocked up at like 4am and a guy dressed head to toe in a full priest outfit was standing outside staring at us, or the fucking death metal fags who live a few houses up now with their mongoloid roommate, but I’m going out to dinner soon. Hog’s Breath Cafe baby. My sisters husband is paying, so I’ve got to go change into my extra stretchy eatin’ pants. I’m going to tell the waiter to head to the cattle yards, I’m not paying so they are going to need more beef.

Don’t push me cos I’m close to the edge. I’m trying not to lose my head. Justin out.

Yoseph.

Yeah its been a while. Look man, I was just diagnosed with type 1 diabetes and I have to have 4 injections a day for the rest of my life, cut me some slack will you, goddamn insensitive pricks. Sorry if my life threatening illness got in the way of your quest for ultimate hilarity. You can stop questing now, I’m here. Go back to Dalaran and turn that fucker in for 10000xp and a +60 agility dagger. And hurry the fuck up, we’ve got a Naxx raid in 15 minutes. Massive nerdery aside, today I’m going to be talking about a few different topics. But yeah, forgive me if I’m not my usual hilarious self, I’m still getting used to the insulin, its fucking with me. 

First off, lets start with movies. I saw The Watchmen on Friday. It was all sorts of awesome. I’ve loved the comic for years, and while it is nowhere near as good as the comic, it was 200 times better than I thought it was going to be. Ok so I’m one line in and I haven’t made a joke. That will all change when I talk about another movie I saw last week: Twilight. See? You are laughing already. Ok ok I admit it, it wasnt as bad as I thought it was going to be. But that isn’t saying very much; I was expecting it to turn me gay. I was hesitant to watch it for this fact. I was dreading as soon as the credits roll I would instantly have an overwhelming desire for cock. Fortunately, I was fine, I just craved cock my regular amount. Whew. So I was actually quite enjoying the first half hour, but the very second he unbuttoned his shirt and sparkled in the sunlight I had to stop myself from grabbing a rifle and climbing the nearest clocktower. LOOK CUNTS, vampires die in the sunlight, alright? Sparkling faggily ISN’T an appropriate vampire reaction to sunlight ok? Fuck! Then of course was what seemed like 3 hours of them laying in flowers gazing lovingly at each other. Also, it wasn’t much of a fucking love story was it? She loves him because he is so deep and mysterious and sexy. He loves her because she smells nice. OH SHIT Romance like a motherfucker! Someone dig up Shakespeare and piss on his corpse, we don’t need his fucking Romeo and Juliet anymore, Twilight is all up in this bitch now! I will say this though. I would destroy the girl who played Bella. Destroy her with my penis. She wouldn’t walk right ever again. Awwwww yeahhh.

Topic change…….GO! Ok, check it. Behind the scenes on this website is something I haven’t talked about before, and with good reason; nobody fucking cares. Why would they? It’s generally boring as shit. Want to know the amount of preparation that goes into every article I write? No? FUCK YOU! I’m way cooler than you so you are going to sit there and read it and shut up! Ahem. Where was I? Oh yeah, preparation. It may surprise you to know that very little preparation, effort or thought goes into my writing. I know right? Shocking. I pretty much just drink 4 or 5 redbulls, hit myself in the head with a brick a few times, then sit down and write what comes out. Yeah, it’s just off the top of my head. You think I give my good stuff away for free? Fuck no! Most of my good material gets filed away for use in the facerapingly awesome screenplay I’m writing. Oh yeah, thats right, this is my throw away comedy. Ladies, I know that the sheer awesomeness of these blog posts is enough to blow your minds, amongst other things. The idea that the greater part of my comedy gold is being horded away in a vault made of radical must make you need to change your underwear. Anyway, I’m getting kick-assly off topic. Back to behind the scenes. So as the owner of the loltech.org, I have access to various tools to show me different statistics such as how many people visit and where they come from and such (I get like 300 unique visitors a month, fuck knows who all these people are, I haven’t even MET 300 total people in my life). What I wanted to talk about today though is the phrases typed into google that people have used to get to my site. There are some fucking doozies (doozies? Really? What am I, a 78 year old stroke victim?).

Here is a list of a few of my favorites, and I swear on Joss Whedon that these are real:

• waterslide manufacturers
• donkeyporn
• confucius sayings sailors
• tom nook
• premium porn lols
• nerd look like what
• stone dojo

And my personal favorite: man in a nappy retarded.

Yes. MAN IN A NAPPY RETARDED. I’m going to get some new cards made up. “Loltech.org. Your one stop shop for all your man in a nappy retarded needs”. Who the fuck would search that, and how in the glorious name of Fuck does it lead to my site? I mean, I could sort of be described as a man, and I am semi to mildly retarded, but I dont recall wearing a nappy at any stage since I could form sentences.

Speaking of Joss Whedon, Dollhouse is the worst show ever. That was the hardest thing I have ever had to say in my life. I dont know how this could have happened, I mean, I pray nightly to Joss Whedon, I’m convinced that Buffy is a real person, and for about 3 years I had my hair cut, and wore a long black coat like Angel until The Matrix came out and people thought I was dressing like Neo. So you can see when it comes to Joss, I dont fuck around. But this show man, it hurts me deep in my balls. How the fuck can it fail? It has the two greatest elements in the world going for it. You’ve just read how I worship at the altar of Joss Whedon, but it also has Eliza Dushku! That girl draws so much blood to my penis from the rest of my body that I my heart actually shrivels and I black out. I had to be hypnotised so I wouldn’t think of her while driving to prevent the firey, explosive deaths of myself and others. Yet somehow it is the least compelling show ever made. In fact I think it’s retroactively making me enjoy Firefly less! KHAAAAANNNNNNNNN!

Ehhh, time to wrap this up. All that Dollhouse talk made me sad. I’m going to watch House, that will cheer me up. His hatred and contempt for humanity warms the cockles of my heart.

Snikt, fuckers. Imasen out.

“Hi, you’ve reached Justin. I’m busy right now fighting the secret zombiepocalypse that the government won’t tell you about so I can’t take your call. I’ll get back to you when I reach a mall full of survivors, or run out of shotgun shells”. That was the previous message people had to hear when I didn’t answer my phone. What you do with this information is up to you. You and Science.

Alright, let’s get this shit started. How am I today? Meh. I could be better. Then again, I could be covered in a swarm of killer bees, so I guess life isn’t THAT bad.

Can you blame me?

Since I spent all long weekend showing those useless coma patient fucks how REAL men hibernate, I don’t have a lot of awesome material to provide the in depth hard hitting exposes my blog is internationally known for, I think I will spend the next several paragraphs talking shit. It’s probably going to bounce around from topic to topic like a hilarious simile that fits with what I’m talking about but can’t think of at this moment because my mind is hung up on Lanny Barbie’s tits. Here goes.

If you were wondering what I do between updates generally I’m busy with all kinds of evil schemes and wacky hijinks, most involving handguns and women with loose morals. One has a bear. Not this time though. This time I was in a Mexican jail. The only Mexican jail in Australia; “The Muchos Prisonrapeistos”. I wont say what I was in for, but it might be useful for you to know that; “But he was Amish!” is apparently not a great defense in a murder trial. Here’s a handy tip for people who say that my blog isn’t educational: do all your Amish slaying in international waters. The more you know!

So I have superpowers. Can I shoot punches from the punch dimension out my eyes? No that’s Cyclops. Do I have adamantium claws that go “snikt” and I say Bub a lot? No wait, that’s Wolverine. No no, I just have sarcasm powers. So I’m just like a regular guy, only people want to punch me more. According to my painstaking research into this field, there are exactly six people who actually get sarcasm and irony. Not six people who read my blog, six people. In the world. Six people in the world. Since the dawn of time. Like six people. Tell me how else can you explain Nickleback? Apparently, most people are born without the gene that tells them when someone is making a joke. That is the reason I spend most of my time running from angry mobs. People don’t get me. Actually that might also be because I spent the rest of my time calling them names and laughing. I think if you read this paragraph back I just medically and scientifically proved that I’m awesome.

Oh here’s something, Fatson and I were doing some late night shopping on Thursday, and apart from all the underage girls with what can only be described as unfeasibly large breasts, there was not much to talk about. That is, until we were just leaving. As we were about 10 steps from the entrance, we see a guy walking towards us. Both Fatson and I drop our jaws in silent amazement. Coming towards us was a gutterfucking fagrat with a t-shirt that caused the hatred centre of my brain to rupture and spray liquid rage from my tearducts. Words cannot describe the sheer tomfaggery of this shirt so I have included an image for you all to rage at. As soon as this shitsmear passed us Fatson and I both turned to each other and at that moment we were one. Our powers combined and we were Captain Hatred. That’s enough now. I simply can’t talk about this guy anymore because linguists have yet to invent a word powerful enough to express my fiery hatred for him. Maybe if science can come up with a way to turn a karate chop into a spoken phrase, then we can keep chatting. I honestly think that shirt is the final sign of the apocalypse. Woe, the end of times doth draw near!! Repent sinners, and since the world is ending what better time for all you hot girls to fuck me?

I can’t take shit like this anymore. I’m moving to a fucking island in the middle of nowhere and naming it “DEATH ISLAND” It will have a hollowed out volcano in the shape of a skull, and snake pits every 6 steps. I’m warning you, nobody better try following me, I know a guy who knows a little karate, and I swing a mean bat.

To finish up, Cos, I just wanted to say; I hate every part of you that’s not on fire.

I’m out of here. BAMF motherfuckers.