"Thrashing In Cincinnati" Goes Into Epic Rage About Silver League and Tries to Fix His Relationship.

AskTheDudeBlog,


You have done me well in helping me share my Starcraft II divorce story with the world. I moved out of the hotel. The prostitutes were asking for more and more money just for little compliments, like ten dollars for each time I was clicking the mouse, and fifty dollars when they were acting impressed that I had the ability to stare at the computer screen and look at things and type. My favorite was when they went oooh and aaah when I took a shower. The best part by far was when they reminded me of boobs which helped me remember who I truly am. Then I decided to make amends with my wife and kids. Here is what happened and I do need more relationship advice because I am in a tight spot and can't stop thinking of my wife's tits;

I show up at our house and go in with my laptop. I plug it in to play the Starcraft 2, I am a champion in Silver League and when I lose I rage and punch holes in the wall and say mean things on the internet to random strangers. Sometimes I even unplug my computer to get revenge against them. So I was trying to set up my internet connection when I realized my wife had changed the password. Then I hear hissing. It's my daughter and she has a pack of a dozen rotten eggs. She starts whipping them at my head. She is a pitcher on her little league team so she can throw them right in my mouth, egg shell and all. I reel over and start swallowing the raw eggs which makes my head swim and the egg shells taste like I swallowed jagged rocks. I tell her to stop so she does and then she goes and plays with her dolls. Then I'm laying there on the ground covered in egg stuff, while my computer game base gets over run by space aliens, and my son comes in and says: "Sorry Dad, but mom said you aren't supposed to be here!" So I'm like WTF, and show him some dad attitude, and he takes out a base ball bat and swings it breaking my knuckles when I try to stop him. I scream, and he says dad I'm sick of playing games with you. You always Zergling rush me like a little internet newbie! He screams in his familiar but horrifying voice. I duck from the room and he swings, smashing my monitor which ignites a tiny fire that spreads onto the bed sheets. I cry out as I watch my Starcraft II score go up in flames and explode! My son is screaming and chasing me with the baseball bat which somehow caught on fire during the explosion and he is yelling at me and calling me a "bad dad" and I run and hide in my wife's closet, to my horror the dead Cat, Mittens Carlyle is hanging from a noose (even though she was only drowned) next to my wife's mink stoll, which I bought her for her birthday before she tanked and became a morbidly obese and semi-deranged television watcher, even though I wanted her to try Malibu Tom's exercise regime. I try to hold back the yell but I can't help it and my son is spreading the fire everywhere, so I leap out of the closet and he shouts: "NO MORE MASS MULES AND MARINES!" I do a flip through the air and apparently several beams supporting the up stairs had been so badly burnt that my force causes the whole thing to collapse and so I'm tumbling through the thick smoke and  broken shell of a house full of flammable materials until I land on the carpet and break my ankle and I can see my daughter through the smoke and shes throwing her toys at me from a burning window and as they sail through the flames the plastic starts to melt and this scalds me, scarring my face and body, leaving me deformed as I crawl out of my burning house.

So I get out of the house and notice that my wife is in her BMW with her Lawyer and they are fucking like wild animals. Her top is off and her tits are pressed up against the driver's side front seat window and they pump against the windows with an intense consistency. It's so cold out that her nipples are engorged, and I'm laying there covered in melted plastic, burn wounds, a broken ankle and an emaciated soul, and thats when the house caves in on itself. I hear the wailing of my daughter and the snapping noise of her built to scale dream mansion exploding in her room. I turn back to the car, my wife's tits on the window a distraction from the terrors happening around me. Her infidelity seems insignificant as the pain breaks across the threshold that it's never mean't to surpass. I lurch up on my broken ankle. The Lawyer and my wife seeing me causes them to start really freaking out, and he leaps out of the car struggling with his pants to get them up, my lazy wife keeps on pushing her tits against the cold window, because thats all women think about. The Lawyer bellows "The house is on fire!" Then he dramatically whips his iPhone out of his pocket and starts haranguing a nine one one operator, wasting precious time of course, so I pull out my semi-auto I had concealed in my pocket and start firing wildly in his general direction. The sound of gun fire excites my wife so she starts tit pumping the icy window faster, and one of the bullets hits the Lawyer's temple and part of his frontal lobe evacuates onto the grill of his BMW, the nine one one operator shouting into the receiver has obviously become hysterical, the shrill voice pluming outwards into the dead smoke. I crawl towards the car to see my wife again, when out of the fringe of the flames my son runs shrieking at me with his baseball bat. His body is riddled with third degree burns and he has one thing on his mind: putting me out of my misery. He runs at me and the agony gets so severe, the melted plastic is singeing me to the bone that I throw my gun at my son hoping that it will knock him out. Instead he catches it backwards, his finger smoothly latching into the trigger as it fires blasting vast clumps of third degree burnt flesh in three dimensional archs that look fancy and disgusting and I'm passingout in the snow watching the thrashing of my wife's tits on the window who still hasn't seemed to notice whats going on.

Then I woke up in a hospital and they let me go. My house was in ruins. My children were dead. My daughter scalded by heaps of melted plastic toys made in China. My son had accidentally self-executed himself after becoming hideously deformed by the house fire. My wife was so distracted by her own tits that she didn't even notice the BMW catch fire and explode. All that was left was the plastic silicone of her tit implants and bot-ox resin dripping down into the gutter near the end of the drive way where my house used to exist. So here I am at an internet caffe, asking you TheDude, what the fuck happened to my life? After two destroyed computers I still can't get into Gold League in Starcraft II. How do I meet new women and get better at computer games where I get to shoot massive space ships and do things and stuff while getting laid at the same time?

Sincerest Regards,

Thrashing In Cincinatti

AskTheDudeBlog: Thats a very tragic outcome. I'd like all readers to think about his tale of woe so we can all learn to become better, more reasonable people as a result of this calamity. It is atrocious what you did, and you deserve nothing but scorn and ridicule for your poor discretions. I'm not one to toot the horn of the hate train, but your life is a disaster, the inspirational kind that informs people, morally, ethically and socially. Hopefully you will find some meaning in your life after everyone died, and that you get better at your computer game so you can get into Gold League. Wishing all the best, as their is basically no real advise I can give to a person as foolish as you.

AskTheDudeBlog