If you were a woman..

Babybuff

What do you think you would be good at? Would you still do the kind of work you do now or do you think you would be better doing something else. What would you do think you would do for a living?

Applies to the menfolk and playing with your boobs all day is already a given so..y'know.

Dotrel

Making lesbefriends.

FatherLen

ironing

RickRoll

Become a lesbian

Dotrel

Asking for directions. Burning my bra etc

themadchef

Babybuff wrote: »

What do you think you would be good at?.

Good at?

Pfffft dont go racing ahead of yourself there now young fella.



Now hush, it's nappy time, Sudocream is a little cold so i'll warm it on my hands .

cocoshovel

I would make myself delicious food non stop all day!

Babybuff

I forgot about other women's boobs.

krudler

I'd get annoyed at nothing and instead of telling someone exactly what it is, I'll get even more annoyed they dont know even though I havent given them any hints as to what it is they didnt do to begin with, then I'll cry and blame my hormones. cant wait.

ilovesleep

I am a woman.

I'm good at eyeing up older men.

And anal.

Richie90

Talking and talking and talking and talking.........

I'd be devastated I wouldn't be able to parallel park anymore, but delighted I can buy what I want in Ann Summers and not look like a weirdo.

kinetic

Id have a stupid row with the boyfriend and head off into the Australian outback and nearly kill myself in the process.

Nforce

Well... the potency of my farts would increase tenfold if I were a woman.

minidazzler

I'd be excellent at fcuking, though I'd probably get a sh1t tonne of STD's given I'd fcuk anyone that seemed like they would know what they are doing.

Temptamperu

ilovesleep wrote: »

I am a woman.

I'm good at eyeing up older men.

And anal.

Whats older? and PM sent :pac:

krudler

Nforce wrote: »

Well... the potency of my farts would increase tenfold if I were a woman.

you know women dont fart? god made them that way

MiniNukinfuts

krudler wrote: »

you know women dont fart? god made them that way

They queef instead

Explosions in the Sky

kinetic wrote: »

Id have a stupid row with the boyfriend and head off into the Australian outback and nearly kill myself in the process.

Or just ran after your dog who jumped out of the car

Chuck Stone

If I were a she-woman I would expect men to know that I was unhappy about something by telepathy.

minidazzler

Temptamperu wrote: »

Whats older? and PM sent :pac:

It's not really sent though, is it?

kinetic

Explosions in the Sky wrote: »

Or just ran after your dog who jumped out of the car

Bit harsh calling her a dog

My name is URL

I reckon I'd make a good hurrier

krudler

Chuck Stone wrote: »

If I were a she-woman I would expect men to know that I was unhappy about something by telepathy.

thats what I said! fcuk sake you never listen do you!

*eats ice cream and cries*

IsMiseDaithair

I'd memorize little things my boyfriend said or done wrong and then bring them up months later. " Remeber that time we were at that place and you said that thing " :mad:

Babybuff

If I were male I would probably be inclined to seek positions that require more brute force than I currently possess, think I'd be a copper or in the military or something. I'd also play with my penis a lot. and fart loudly and find it hilarious.

stupidusername

wow. bitches be crazy apparently

kinetic

If i was a woman i would say something a bit like...

Babybuff wrote: »

If I were male I would probably be inclined to seek positions that require more brute force than I currently possess, think I'd be a copper or in the military or something. I'd also play with my penis a lot. and fart loudly and find it hilarious.

Babybuff

kinetic wrote: »

If i was a woman i would say something a bit like...

I could be a man pretending to be a woman.

* I got distracted watching spurs just get their three points

Kevin Duffy

ilovesleep wrote: »

I am a woman.

I'm good at eyeing up older men.

And anal.

I am a man.

I am older.

How you doin'?

Son Of A Vidic

Babybuff wrote: »

I'd also play with my penis a lot. and fart loudly and find it hilarious.

Ah sure your're a brother already.

flutered

i would try to disguise my fanny farts

Chuck was taken

Makin' sammiches

Deus Ex Machina

re crying but she's falling, tumbling head over heels, like Lucifer expelled from heaven, a swarm of velvet robes about his flaming body. And she's falling, falling like the Sun's voices, a thousand notes all played at once and raining, raining, raining. Raining upon all the creatures of the Earth forevermore, catching in the clotheslines and upon the great sandy beaches, soaked up in the flesh of God's children. Soaked into their cells, into their eyes and into their souls. The world, a tired old balloon flapping through the choking bleakness of space, as God's children crawl upon it like maggots upon the eyes of a corpse. But this corpse lives. It sees them as the feast upon it. The slick, wet tissue puckers as they gnaw, in light and dark they gnaw, and it does nothing but watch, bloodshot and tired, yellowed with sickness and drawn tight like a strained, pulsating tendon upon the stygian legs of a draught horse who long knew it's fate. It is coiled with veins which pump blood more black than the grief of the angels who daily float to Earth and weep their silent tears for an innocents pulled apart until, ragged and frayed, it tore and left in its place the emptiness of a September's cloudless skies. A single pluck at the string of a bow sends a single arrow of light through the white and grey right angles of the pillbox buildings which scratch at the eyes of God like ungrateful orphan's who never knew true loss. Within the echoing edifices rumble the sounds of a thousand bubbling stomachs, patched with pink ulcers as the curdled mess of forgotten dreams lie undigested as black eyes watch the clock's slow progress, a progress with they mistake for their own. But for each mechanical click of the hand they take a step to the same place they've been all their lives, waiting for the Messiah who lies dead, his blood spread upon the hands of all the living, as well as the choked corpses of the millions of women whose wombs bore this unrequited fruit. Not a single finger unpainted with the now crusted cruor. This is the most original of sins, for it was not heralded by the paramecia who swam in the oceans as the plains of the Earth were silent, so too it was unseen by the grunting Ape's who toiled before all the puzzles of universe without a light to guide them. This sin is original for it is ours and ours alone. The sickness is in the sharpness of our minds, the very blade which scythes through ancient intention and lets the faces within pour over all who bear witness. Leave the child, he cries, his withered limbs raised aloft, not one man step beyond his place or he shall feel the wrath of my staff upon his flesh. Writhing like a severed worm the infant kicks and screams. It is unholy, an abomination in a world never meant to know itself. Their fingers twitch, their eyes shift left and right, but to a man they remain in place. The child's piercing sounds cut the air, shattered flint and muddied feet thread left and right. He is dead. The world is empty now, but for the brittle skeletons packed beneath the damp clay, shining and rotten, sweet to the taste, it is nothingness that is reflected back in the dead eyes of the child, for the world has been returned to its native state. The corrupting forces have retreated like the tide, an open wound crisping back to flesh will hold the scars, the seconds pass uncheck in a

Eric Cartman

Id wear fcuk all clothes around all day, scam lads for free drinks and smokes and ride anything that moved in exchange for drink/smokes and money

strobe

Deus Ex Machina wrote: »

re crying but she's falling, tumbling head over heels, like Lucifer expelled from heaven, a swarm of velvet robes about his flaming body. And she's falling, falling like the Sun's voices, a thousand notes all played at once and raining, raining, raining. Raining upon all the creatures of the Earth forevermore, catching in the clotheslines and upon the great sandy beaches, soaked up in the flesh of God's children. Soaked into their cells, into their eyes and into their souls. The world, a tired old balloon flapping through the choking bleakness of space, as God's children crawl upon it like maggots upon the eyes of a corpse. But this corpse lives. It sees them as the feast upon it. The slick, wet tissue puckers as they gnaw, in light and dark they gnaw, and it does nothing but watch, bloodshot and tired, yellowed with sickness and drawn tight like a strained, pulsating tendon upon the stygian legs of a draught horse who long knew it's fate. It is coiled with veins which pump blood more black than the grief of the angels who daily float to Earth and weep their silent tears for an innocents pulled apart until, ragged and frayed, it tore and left in its place the emptiness of a September's cloudless skies. A single pluck at the string of a bow sends a single arrow of light through the white and grey right angles of the pillbox buildings which scratch at the eyes of God like ungrateful orphan's who never knew true loss. Within the echoing edifices rumble the sounds of a thousand bubbling stomachs, patched with pink ulcers as the curdled mess of forgotten dreams lie undigested as black eyes watch the clock's slow progress, a progress with they mistake for their own. But for each mechanical click of the hand they take a step to the same place they've been all their lives, waiting for the Messiah who lies dead, his blood spread upon the hands of all the living, as well as the choked corpses of the millions of women whose wombs bore this unrequited fruit. Not a single finger unpainted with the now crusted cruor. This is the most original of sins, for it was not heralded by the paramecia who swam in the oceans as the plains of the Earth were silent, so too it was unseen by the grunting Ape's who toiled before all the puzzles of universe without a light to guide them. This sin is original for it is ours and ours alone. The sickness is in the sharpness of our minds, the very blade which scythes through ancient intention and lets the faces within pour over all who bear witness. Leave the child, he cries, his withered limbs raised aloft, not one man step beyond his place or he shall feel the wrath of my staff upon his flesh. Writhing like a severed worm the infant kicks and screams. It is unholy, an abomination in a world never meant to know itself. Their fingers twitch, their eyes shift left and right, but to a man they remain in place. The child's piercing sounds cut the air, shattered flint and muddied feet thread left and right. He is dead. The world is empty now, but for the brittle skeletons packed beneath the damp clay, shining and rotten, sweet to the taste, it is nothingness that is reflected back in the dead eyes of the child, for the world has been returned to its native state. The corrupting forces have retreated like the tide, an open wound crisping back to flesh will hold the scars, the seconds pass uncheck in a

Bastard! I was just about to say that.

TeddyTedson

I'd become a singer and write songs about being a boy, even though I'd really mean being a man.

Turtyturd

I would stand at the bank link staring at it as if it was some kind of super computer which would cause me to explode if I press the wrong button, while the queue behind me grows ever longer.

stupidusername

strobe wrote: »

Bastard! I was just about to say that.

You just had to quote the whole thing didn't ya :mad:

stupidusername

TeddyTedson wrote: »

I'd become a singer and write songs about being a boy, even though I'd really mean being a man.

Ooh burn!

TeddyTedson

stupidusername wrote: »

Ooh burn!

I'd also pee standing up because I'd be used to it.

stupidusername

TeddyTedson wrote: »

I'd also pee standing up because I'd be used to it.

That could make quite a mess

charlemont

I'd probably be a bitchy whore..

MagicSean

Lesbian porn. That is all.

Bruthal

If i was a woman i`d be abroad now.

Storminateacup

If I were female I would delibrately antagonize the male I live with just so as I could justify taking the awful day I just had out on him. I would make him so mad that he'd feel bad afterwards and cuddle me, which would make everything okay again. Mad cuddles are more meaningful than "I want a cuddle" cuddles.

SteelyDanJalapeno

ilovesleep wrote: »

I am a woman.

I'm good at eyeing up older men.

And anal.

Jaysus, I'd be up for trying that anal Craic,

Pm sent

flanders1979

I'd hate to be a woman.
We as men got the better deal.
It doesn't bear thinking.
No man wants to imagine a scenario where he will have a bollix anywhere near his face or watching Grey's Anatomy. I'm getting the gawks thinking about it.

TeddyTedson

stupidusername wrote: »

That could make quite a mess

Yea but nobody would ever suspect me.

Storminateacup

clearly Teddy was never in the ladies bathrooms.

#womenarefuccingvile.

LH Pathe

I'd show him my indifference

I'd make sure that this woman's understood