8 definitions by Jack D. Ripper
A person who Eye-Humps others. Is often also a Butter Golem or otherwise resembles a living, drooling mass of pizza dough. Eye-Humpers usually develop eyestrain due to all the eye-humping they do, forcing them to wear inch-thick glasses, which unfortunately only serves to enhance the creepyness of the Eye-Humper.
The term "Eye-Hump" originates from an episode of Family Guy in which Peter Griffin complains that "every guy in the room is eye-humping my wife." The term "Eye-Humper" was first used by either me or one of my friends in reference to pasty mass of flesh who eye-humped me throughout my Junior year of High School. "The Eye-Humper" is used as a suffix after the given name or nickname. "Elmo the Eye-Humper," for example.
The term "Eye-Hump" originates from an episode of Family Guy in which Peter Griffin complains that "every guy in the room is eye-humping my wife." The term "Eye-Humper" was first used by either me or one of my friends in reference to pasty mass of flesh who eye-humped me throughout my Junior year of High School. "The Eye-Humper" is used as a suffix after the given name or nickname. "Elmo the Eye-Humper," for example.
Elmo the Eye-Humper used to eye-hump me back to the stone age in Junior Year. It only stopped when my friend mentioned it in an essay he read to the entire class.
by Jack D. Ripper August 17, 2004
Any kid who is:
A) A Juggallo.
B) Dumb, even for a Juggallo.
C) Doesn't know how to jack off.
D) Wants to have anything and everything in school to fucking revolve around clowns.
E) When asked to comment on writing assignment, always says "It shows how he feels."
A) A Juggallo.
B) Dumb, even for a Juggallo.
C) Doesn't know how to jack off.
D) Wants to have anything and everything in school to fucking revolve around clowns.
E) When asked to comment on writing assignment, always says "It shows how he feels."
*Zach is talking about masturbation for some reason*
Shittles: How do you do it?
*room turns dead silent as people stare in disbelief*
Zach: You hit it with a hammer.
Shittles: Really?
Zach: Yeah, that's why they call it beating your meat.
Shittles: Okay! *grabs hammer, hits self in groin* Ow, that hurt!
Zach: That's cause you're not doing it right.
Shittles: How do you do it?
*room turns dead silent as people stare in disbelief*
Zach: You hit it with a hammer.
Shittles: Really?
Zach: Yeah, that's why they call it beating your meat.
Shittles: Okay! *grabs hammer, hits self in groin* Ow, that hurt!
Zach: That's cause you're not doing it right.
by Jack D. Ripper June 22, 2004
1. A sexual episode involving three females; a carpet party, box sale, taco buffet, clam convention
2. A slut who has been fucked so many times that her pussy can be pulled in three different directions at the same time
2. A slut who has been fucked so many times that her pussy can be pulled in three different directions at the same time
That bitch is so loose, her menage-a-twat is starting to resemble a compass rose.
I'm bored. Lets play tug-of-war with your mom's menage-a-twat.
I'm bored. Lets play tug-of-war with your mom's menage-a-twat.
by Jack D. Ripper May 23, 2003
1. Any large rat roughly the length of a human forearm, not counting the rat's tail. Typically of dirty brownish coloration and native to the cold regions in North America such as New York, Canada and even Alaska. Thought to be related to NYC Sewer Rats, Dire Rats and Rodents of Unusual Size. Usually diseased.
2. A common sight and a food staple among tenants renting from Jim "the sex offender" Speedy, usually half-cooked (to save on excessive gas bills since heating his appartments costs tenants a small fortune) over the one remaining working fixture of the 30+ year-old gas stoves in his appartments, and seasoned with the various weeds that can be found growing in tenants' front yards. Killing these creatures takes both skill and bravery, although they are not difficult to locate, and do not need to be hunted in the traditional sense. Typically, a corpse-eating rat will be heard by a tenant attempting to gnaw through a box of freshy purchased pizza or the small cupboard in which tenants are forced to store their meager reserves of food as refigerators rarely work and kitchen cupboards simply proving spaces for the corpse-eating rats and their smaller cousins, mice, to nest. The tenant, usually desperate to protect what little food they can afford due to crippling rent payments as well as payments for repairs when various components of the appartment break due to their inherant shittyness, rushes to its defense, using whatever improvised weapons are handy. Those experienced tenants who survive their first harsh, lean, winter in the shittily-heated and practically uninsulated appartments typically learn to keep an improvised melee weapon within arm's reach at all times (even when trying to see through the Blur-o-Vision on their TVs or attempting to patch broken windows) both for killing the corpse-eating rats, and as a last-ditch defense against the tenant's other enemies, which include as various Molesting Fatasses, Loser Patrol, Terminators, Hunter-Killers, Sentinels and of course, Tentakel Beasts. Typical semi-improvised weapons incluse Dollar Store brooms, Civil War bayonets and Cavalry Sabres, hiking boots, hardcover Dungeons & Dragons books, wallet chains, snow shovels, entrenching tools, shovel-looking things that can't be seen that well because of lighting, pocket or kitchen knives, worthless VHS tapes from ex-girlfriends, dead phones, dirty syringes found in storage spaces from previous tenants and those big plastic green horns they sell on St. Patrick's Day that sound like the horns on Mac trucks, although tenants will use anything readily available, including their bare hands if need be, to defend their food. Once the tenant sights the corpse-eating rat after approximately five minutes of groping for the pull-string that tunrs on the light, the rat will be temporarily blinded by the sudden change in lighting (most tenants leave lights and other electrical appliances off to save on precious electricity, unless they need light to read or see pictures in porno mags to jack off to). This is the tenant's chance to kill the rat before it has a chance to bite and infect the tenant, then retreat behind the tenant's leaking stove or into his walls or cupboards to wait for the tenant to slowly succumb to the varoius diseases the rat carries. Usually, if a tenant is to be successful in slaying these beasts, he must do so (or at least stun or severely injure them) with the first blow. Once a tenant has killed a corpse-eating rat, he prepares it as carefully as possible, making sure not to damage any part of the rat, as each component can be made useful. First, if the rent is due soon, the tenant ritually writes the check, wipes the rat's ass with it, and puts it in the envelope, if possible while listening to a Dead Kennedys album. The rat is then skinned, de-boned and gutted. Rat pelts are typically used to make hobo gloves or moccasins to help the tenant survive the cold winters, but more successful tenants are able to save up several of them to make winter coats, blankets, sleeping bags, throw rugs, and those Russian hats like the one George wore in that one episode of Seinfeld. The most prosperous and resourceful tenants trade the pelts to other less fortunate tenants for food or extension cords. The meat, though gamey, is typically half-cooked or smoked and cured for use as jerky. The organs and any edible stomach contents are usually ground up into sausage or boiled in a stew. Tendons and ligaments are used to make string or rope, usually for patching the tenant's ragged clothes handed down from wealthier family members, bought on sale at Wal-Mart, or made from rat pelts or rat leather. Bones, if not needed to feed the tenant (by boiling with the organs or breaking open for marrow), are fashioned into primitive home repair tools, claws on clawed Freddy Krueger gloves, or decorative scrimshaw. If the tenant kills the rats soon before or during summer, he may also sell the various rat products at local art shows or to natural food stores. Therefore, when a corpse-eating rat is killed, it is time for whatever celebration the tenants battered or broken spirit, stereo and TV can muster, since the rat's death represents one less competitor for food, a triumph over a dangerous foe, a new source of livelyhood, and most importantly, the tenant's perseverance over long odds and a rotten hand delt him, and his retained humanity in an inhuman environment. Corpse-eating rats are, if possible eaten with the lights on, while watching TV or a movie, or failing that while listening to music (preferably Dead Kennedys, Metallica or Iron Maiden).
The name originates from an article in the Onion's satirical book of fake newspaper articles entitled "Our Dumb Century." A commentary on World War I, the article's headline reads "CORPSE-EATING RATS NOW LARGEST MILITARY FORCE IN EUROPE"
2. A common sight and a food staple among tenants renting from Jim "the sex offender" Speedy, usually half-cooked (to save on excessive gas bills since heating his appartments costs tenants a small fortune) over the one remaining working fixture of the 30+ year-old gas stoves in his appartments, and seasoned with the various weeds that can be found growing in tenants' front yards. Killing these creatures takes both skill and bravery, although they are not difficult to locate, and do not need to be hunted in the traditional sense. Typically, a corpse-eating rat will be heard by a tenant attempting to gnaw through a box of freshy purchased pizza or the small cupboard in which tenants are forced to store their meager reserves of food as refigerators rarely work and kitchen cupboards simply proving spaces for the corpse-eating rats and their smaller cousins, mice, to nest. The tenant, usually desperate to protect what little food they can afford due to crippling rent payments as well as payments for repairs when various components of the appartment break due to their inherant shittyness, rushes to its defense, using whatever improvised weapons are handy. Those experienced tenants who survive their first harsh, lean, winter in the shittily-heated and practically uninsulated appartments typically learn to keep an improvised melee weapon within arm's reach at all times (even when trying to see through the Blur-o-Vision on their TVs or attempting to patch broken windows) both for killing the corpse-eating rats, and as a last-ditch defense against the tenant's other enemies, which include as various Molesting Fatasses, Loser Patrol, Terminators, Hunter-Killers, Sentinels and of course, Tentakel Beasts. Typical semi-improvised weapons incluse Dollar Store brooms, Civil War bayonets and Cavalry Sabres, hiking boots, hardcover Dungeons & Dragons books, wallet chains, snow shovels, entrenching tools, shovel-looking things that can't be seen that well because of lighting, pocket or kitchen knives, worthless VHS tapes from ex-girlfriends, dead phones, dirty syringes found in storage spaces from previous tenants and those big plastic green horns they sell on St. Patrick's Day that sound like the horns on Mac trucks, although tenants will use anything readily available, including their bare hands if need be, to defend their food. Once the tenant sights the corpse-eating rat after approximately five minutes of groping for the pull-string that tunrs on the light, the rat will be temporarily blinded by the sudden change in lighting (most tenants leave lights and other electrical appliances off to save on precious electricity, unless they need light to read or see pictures in porno mags to jack off to). This is the tenant's chance to kill the rat before it has a chance to bite and infect the tenant, then retreat behind the tenant's leaking stove or into his walls or cupboards to wait for the tenant to slowly succumb to the varoius diseases the rat carries. Usually, if a tenant is to be successful in slaying these beasts, he must do so (or at least stun or severely injure them) with the first blow. Once a tenant has killed a corpse-eating rat, he prepares it as carefully as possible, making sure not to damage any part of the rat, as each component can be made useful. First, if the rent is due soon, the tenant ritually writes the check, wipes the rat's ass with it, and puts it in the envelope, if possible while listening to a Dead Kennedys album. The rat is then skinned, de-boned and gutted. Rat pelts are typically used to make hobo gloves or moccasins to help the tenant survive the cold winters, but more successful tenants are able to save up several of them to make winter coats, blankets, sleeping bags, throw rugs, and those Russian hats like the one George wore in that one episode of Seinfeld. The most prosperous and resourceful tenants trade the pelts to other less fortunate tenants for food or extension cords. The meat, though gamey, is typically half-cooked or smoked and cured for use as jerky. The organs and any edible stomach contents are usually ground up into sausage or boiled in a stew. Tendons and ligaments are used to make string or rope, usually for patching the tenant's ragged clothes handed down from wealthier family members, bought on sale at Wal-Mart, or made from rat pelts or rat leather. Bones, if not needed to feed the tenant (by boiling with the organs or breaking open for marrow), are fashioned into primitive home repair tools, claws on clawed Freddy Krueger gloves, or decorative scrimshaw. If the tenant kills the rats soon before or during summer, he may also sell the various rat products at local art shows or to natural food stores. Therefore, when a corpse-eating rat is killed, it is time for whatever celebration the tenants battered or broken spirit, stereo and TV can muster, since the rat's death represents one less competitor for food, a triumph over a dangerous foe, a new source of livelyhood, and most importantly, the tenant's perseverance over long odds and a rotten hand delt him, and his retained humanity in an inhuman environment. Corpse-eating rats are, if possible eaten with the lights on, while watching TV or a movie, or failing that while listening to music (preferably Dead Kennedys, Metallica or Iron Maiden).
The name originates from an article in the Onion's satirical book of fake newspaper articles entitled "Our Dumb Century." A commentary on World War I, the article's headline reads "CORPSE-EATING RATS NOW LARGEST MILITARY FORCE IN EUROPE"
Me: Hey, I think I hear a corpse-eating rat! *grabs entrenching tool, runs into kitchen*
Zach: Sweet! I'm fuckin' hungry! *grabs wallet chain, runs into kitchen*
Corpse-Eating Rat: Eeeeeeeeeek! *launches self at me from pizza box on stove*
Me: Eat this, bitch! *impales corpse-eating rat on bayonet*
Zach: Woo-hoo!
Me: Get the rent check and crank the Dead Kennedys! I'll clear off the stove!
Zach: Sweet! I'm fuckin' hungry! *grabs wallet chain, runs into kitchen*
Corpse-Eating Rat: Eeeeeeeeeek! *launches self at me from pizza box on stove*
Me: Eat this, bitch! *impales corpse-eating rat on bayonet*
Zach: Woo-hoo!
Me: Get the rent check and crank the Dead Kennedys! I'll clear off the stove!
by Jack D. Ripper August 3, 2004
Variant spelling and pronunciation of "tentacles" based on some obscure Icelandic language (see tentakelporr, tentakel beast, Yggdrasil Proteus).
1. Used to note that the tentacles in question are doing fucked-up shit (see hentai), as opposed to, for instance, a plate of calamari that really doesn't do anything. This is done both so that casual observers won't be able to tell what you're talking about, so that otaku, daemonettes and twodephiliacs won't overhaer you and mistake you for one of their own, and so that harmless tentacles (yes there are a few left) do not become Brondonized.
2. MCC Anime Club's favorite thing in the whole world.
3. My current Nemesis (although I am still have been without an Arch-Nemesis since 2003)
1. Used to note that the tentacles in question are doing fucked-up shit (see hentai), as opposed to, for instance, a plate of calamari that really doesn't do anything. This is done both so that casual observers won't be able to tell what you're talking about, so that otaku, daemonettes and twodephiliacs won't overhaer you and mistake you for one of their own, and so that harmless tentacles (yes there are a few left) do not become Brondonized.
2. MCC Anime Club's favorite thing in the whole world.
3. My current Nemesis (although I am still have been without an Arch-Nemesis since 2003)
Dumbass A: I don't know how anyone could get off to hentai! It's frikkin tentacles!
Dumbass B: I know, it's disgusting!
Otaku Jackass: Tentacles?! Did someone say tentacles!? Here's some tentacles *shows Dumbasses Sailor Moon tentakelporr*
Dumbasses: Noooooooooooooo!!1111one *vomit*
Me: Why must the tentakels hound me to the ends of the Earth?! Do I look like a Japanese schoolgirl?! *doesn't look like Japanese schoolgirl*
Zach: *shudders* I don't know. I don't know why the porn shop I work at carries shit with tentakels either.
*Otaku Jackass walks by engrossed in Sailor Moon pr0n*
*Zach smacks Otaku Jackass upside the head for not returning his pr0n to the store on time, causing him to drop his Sailor Moon pr0n into a nearby volcano*
Otaku Jackass: Nooooooooooo!!!!!!1111one *jumps into volcano after Sailor Moon pr0n*
Everyone: Hooray!
FIN
Dumbass B: I know, it's disgusting!
Otaku Jackass: Tentacles?! Did someone say tentacles!? Here's some tentacles *shows Dumbasses Sailor Moon tentakelporr*
Dumbasses: Noooooooooooooo!!1111one *vomit*
Me: Why must the tentakels hound me to the ends of the Earth?! Do I look like a Japanese schoolgirl?! *doesn't look like Japanese schoolgirl*
Zach: *shudders* I don't know. I don't know why the porn shop I work at carries shit with tentakels either.
*Otaku Jackass walks by engrossed in Sailor Moon pr0n*
*Zach smacks Otaku Jackass upside the head for not returning his pr0n to the store on time, causing him to drop his Sailor Moon pr0n into a nearby volcano*
Otaku Jackass: Nooooooooooo!!!!!!1111one *jumps into volcano after Sailor Moon pr0n*
Everyone: Hooray!
FIN
by Jack D. Ripper June 22, 2004
A kid who is so into Hentai that he has actually been awarder the rank of Captain of All Hentai by the Cyborg Businessman, and entrusted with coordinating the various other lesser members of the Hentai heirarchy in the school.
Once the Captain of All Hentai has been identified, the only way to stop the spread of Chaos and Tentakelporr is to address him by his rank at all times (especially while in convenience stores and while the Captain of All Hentai is stoned) so that he cannot lure anyone else into allying with Chaos, or try to sacrifice Otaku virgins to Yggdrasil Proteus and Slaanesh to try and bring his bootleg Sailor Moon porn to life or summon a Tentacle Beast or Hell-Kite. Often, the Captain of All Hentai is aided in his battle against those who think tentakelporr is disgusting by various lower-ranking Chaos Cultists, as well as Chaos Constructs including Infernal Vending Machines, Posessed Porno Mags, Chaos Crapintoshes, T-680 Terminators, Bow Freaks, and more rarely Stygian SSD Books, Bigscreen Dreadnoughts, Abyssal Arcade Consoles, and possibly the Cyborg Businessman himself.
It is thought that addressing the Captain of All Hentai by his true name works on a similar principal to using a Daemon's True Name to destroy it.
Once the Captain of All Hentai has been identified, the only way to stop the spread of Chaos and Tentakelporr is to address him by his rank at all times (especially while in convenience stores and while the Captain of All Hentai is stoned) so that he cannot lure anyone else into allying with Chaos, or try to sacrifice Otaku virgins to Yggdrasil Proteus and Slaanesh to try and bring his bootleg Sailor Moon porn to life or summon a Tentacle Beast or Hell-Kite. Often, the Captain of All Hentai is aided in his battle against those who think tentakelporr is disgusting by various lower-ranking Chaos Cultists, as well as Chaos Constructs including Infernal Vending Machines, Posessed Porno Mags, Chaos Crapintoshes, T-680 Terminators, Bow Freaks, and more rarely Stygian SSD Books, Bigscreen Dreadnoughts, Abyssal Arcade Consoles, and possibly the Cyborg Businessman himself.
It is thought that addressing the Captain of All Hentai by his true name works on a similar principal to using a Daemon's True Name to destroy it.
Me: *getting snacks at Rite-Aid*
Stefan: *stoned off his ass, sneaks up behind me* Oh, hey, what's goin on?
Me: *doesn't want to fight off another squid, thinks fast* OH HEY, CAPTAIN HENTAI! HOW'S IT GOIN, CAPTAIN HENTAI?
Gherel: *also thinks beating off to cartoons is dumb* Caaaaaaaaptain Hentai!
Zach: *laughs ass off at Stefan because Stefan has wet dreams about Sailor Moon*
Stefan: Noooooooooo! Potator! *teleports back to Blubbernaut's Dildo Emporium*
Security Guard who looks like Vanilla Ice: Hey! Did that kid just steal that tub of hand lotion?!
Security Guard who looks and sounds like the Missing Link: Yeah, he did! And look, he also took that issue of Newtype with Faye Valentine on the cover!
Fatass Cashier with a crush on me for some reason: That bastard!
Zach: Well, what do you expect? He's the Captain of All Hentai!
FIN
Stefan: *stoned off his ass, sneaks up behind me* Oh, hey, what's goin on?
Me: *doesn't want to fight off another squid, thinks fast* OH HEY, CAPTAIN HENTAI! HOW'S IT GOIN, CAPTAIN HENTAI?
Gherel: *also thinks beating off to cartoons is dumb* Caaaaaaaaptain Hentai!
Zach: *laughs ass off at Stefan because Stefan has wet dreams about Sailor Moon*
Stefan: Noooooooooo! Potator! *teleports back to Blubbernaut's Dildo Emporium*
Security Guard who looks like Vanilla Ice: Hey! Did that kid just steal that tub of hand lotion?!
Security Guard who looks and sounds like the Missing Link: Yeah, he did! And look, he also took that issue of Newtype with Faye Valentine on the cover!
Fatass Cashier with a crush on me for some reason: That bastard!
Zach: Well, what do you expect? He's the Captain of All Hentai!
FIN
by Jack D. Ripper June 22, 2004
1. A schoolbus, usually a really shitty one with an asshole driver.
2. The most common mode of transportation for SWB students, followed closely by the Shitty Bus, the DerFuhrerMobile, and the Heel-Toe Express, since SWB spends all its money on piss-yellow printer paper and hush-money to keep half its teachers from being fired.
3. Utter and complete dogshit.
Word originated from the fact that the bus is the same color as the anemic American Cheese that's made in Sri Lanka and served in SWB school lunches along with plenty of Man Mayonnaise and Corpse-Eating Rat meat.
2. The most common mode of transportation for SWB students, followed closely by the Shitty Bus, the DerFuhrerMobile, and the Heel-Toe Express, since SWB spends all its money on piss-yellow printer paper and hush-money to keep half its teachers from being fired.
3. Utter and complete dogshit.
Word originated from the fact that the bus is the same color as the anemic American Cheese that's made in Sri Lanka and served in SWB school lunches along with plenty of Man Mayonnaise and Corpse-Eating Rat meat.
Mark: We better get on the cheesebus so we won't miss gym class and have to get more porn for Stiffen's Armada to graduate!
Me: I fucking hate gym class! All it is is Kool-Aid and Windbag making bullshit calls about the gradeschool games Stiffen came up with for us to play so he could sell bootleg tapes to the Cyborg Businessman! That and Blubbernaut and the Fat Guy trying to kill me with dodgeballs and cornhole you and That Mofo Pooh!
Gherel: It also sucks that our school is supposed to be one of the best in the city, yet we can't afford our own gym or even computers that aren't either factory rejects or filled with Soviet Schoolgirl Porn! Oh well, at least we get to make fun of Flowers when she comes on to Mr. Bus Driver.
Me: Yeah, I guess there's that...
Me: I fucking hate gym class! All it is is Kool-Aid and Windbag making bullshit calls about the gradeschool games Stiffen came up with for us to play so he could sell bootleg tapes to the Cyborg Businessman! That and Blubbernaut and the Fat Guy trying to kill me with dodgeballs and cornhole you and That Mofo Pooh!
Gherel: It also sucks that our school is supposed to be one of the best in the city, yet we can't afford our own gym or even computers that aren't either factory rejects or filled with Soviet Schoolgirl Porn! Oh well, at least we get to make fun of Flowers when she comes on to Mr. Bus Driver.
Me: Yeah, I guess there's that...
by Jack D. Ripper July 30, 2004