Baseball terms used as sexual metaphors. Most commonly referring to the bases.
1st base= Kissing, french kissing
2nd base= Groping, feeling, fingering 3rd base= Oral sex, 69, handjob, pretty much anything but all-out sex
Home run= Full-on sex, penetration
Many people have different variations for first, second, and third base.
Person 1: Yo, last night I got to 2nd base with your girlfriend!
Person 2: Well I hit a home run with your mom!
Kid: Dad, tell me about the bases!
Dad: Son... stfu
When someone is listing options and you automatically choose the first choice. This usually leads to the person doubting you or you doubting yourself, eventually causing you to switch your answer.
Mike: Yo, Shaniqua.
Shaniqua: Hey, you wanna see a movie tonight?
Mike: Sure... what movie?
Shaniqua: How about Finding Nemo, Busty Cops 4, or He's Just Not That Into You?
Mike: I like Finding Nemo...
Shaniqua: GODDAMMIT MIKE CUT THE BULLSHIT WITH YOUR FIRST CHOICE BIAS!!
Joe: Hey, man
Paublo: Hey, Joe.
Joe: You wanna put dog shit on someone's doorstep?
Paublo: Sure. You wanna hit the Jefferson's, Al Murra's, Nagaski's, or the Smith's?
Joe: The Jefferson's I guess.
Paublo: Oh.. okay.
Joe: What? Ooh... you think it's my first choice bias choosing that.
Paublo: Huh? Oh no it's just...
Joe: that's cool dude.
When you have a sand timer for something and at the very end you slam on the top so 0.00036% more sand comes out for the next millisecond. Eventually adds up to about 4.5 seconds out of your life that you didn't spend.
My little brother was brushing his teeth and when he looked away I slammed the pussy's time so when he tells anyone he brushes for 2 minutes I can correct him 'cause of The Lost Grain.
Harry Potter Syndrome (or HPS) is the phenononom when you begin to read a book (usually Harry Potter but also another interesting novel) around 11 pm. After reading a satisfying amount, you decide to go to bed. You look at your clock and realize it is now about 4 am.
John pulls into the office an hour late, with sleepy eyes.
John: Sorry guys, I got Harry Potter Syndrome last night.
Eduardo: *snicker* *snicker* Dork...
John: I guess... but Cedric died D:
Victor (who has been sitting in the corner this whole time): SHIT! THE MUGGLES KNOW!!!
A van that, from a distance, looks like an ice cream truck filled with loads of delicious goodies. Upon closer inspection, however, it ends up seeming rather shady. Shady enough for an adult not to allow desperate children to go up to the van. The first sign is a lack of windows, then a driver with a pedosmile and/or melestache.
The fake-outs are often mistaken for the trucks, and any idiot can tell there is clearly a pedo inside.
Timmy: OH BOY!! An ice cream truck! I want a Spongebob Popsicle!
Mom: Well, if you really want to go Timmy... WAIT! Sorry, Timmy. We can't go.
Timmy: But you said...
Mom: I'm pretty sure it's an ice cream van. You'll learn about it when you're older
Those dreaded 25 or 30 days before Christmas when all you hear when you turn on the radio is sellout whiny pop singers remaking Christmas carols over and over and over.
John: You gotta help me, man. I don't know what to do!
George: Calm down, bro... what's wrong? You look pale.
John: My bus driver always puts on the radio and for the past 2 weeks I haven't heard anything but "Joyful Toys for Joyful Boys" by Alicia Keys.
George: Oh lord... has the apocarolypse already begun?
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