Rollercoaster thrill rides on FML Friday

I remember the first time I rode a grown-up rollercoaster  Not one of those baby things that’s basically like a poorly-designed train, mind you. But a proper, balls-in-your-throat rollercoaster. I made a sort of “Hnnnnnghnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnghnnnnnnnnagh” sound the whole time, and when it was all over, it felt like Kathy Bates had gone all Misery on my knees.

So I went again and again.

But the poor saps below? I think their rollercoaster-riding days are over. Their L’s are so F’ed… Well, I’ll let them explain it.

Gravity: it’s what’s for dinner

Today, the rollercoaster I was on stuck upside down for a few minutes. I shat myself in terror. Then, gravity took effect. FML

I don’t think gravity took effect AFTER you shit your pants. It was there the whole time, you poor smelly fuck! It’s science!

There’s an often-mocked science called “psychology,” which might actually help to explain the pants-shitting. The thing that probably happened is that your father used to hold you upside down by your toes and… No, I can’t do this. I can’t take you seriously. Just like I can’t take these people seriously:

Prayer: it’s what’s for dinner

Today, I went on a rollercoaster for the first time. I sat in the back, which was a bad idea. When it ended everyone in front of me turned around and stared. When I asked my friend what was going on, she said I had been screaming the Lord’s Prayer the whole time. I hadn’t even noticed. FML

A good friend of mine, by the name of Sweet Brown, has a response for you. It’s loosely Jesus-related. And here it is:

Laughter: it’s what’s for dinner

Today, I went to a theme park. The first ride I went on broke down just as my cart reached the highest point. I had a nice view of my loving family laughing at me while management failed to fix the rollercoaster. FML

Presumably, at some point they got you down off that rollercoaster. At which point, you were able to amble your sad ass to a computer to talk about how horrible your life is. So don’t tell me they failed to fix it, you asshole. Those carny-engineer — or carngineers — work their asses off almost half the time. And the do it for YOU.

And who can help it if your family thinks you’re worth laughing at. The rest of us would have laughed at you too if we were there. Hey, that kind of makes me think of this:

Image by Spadey09 on Flickr. Used under Creative Commons License.

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