Bj Fuck

Bj Fuck
Published March 19, 2019 9:12pm EDT
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Miley Cyrus shares a sultry Instagram photo of herself that appears to be promoting her upcoming performance at Woodstock's 50th anniversary this summer in New York.
Miley Cyrus stripped down for her latest social media post.
On Tuesday, the "Nothing Breaks Like a Heart" singer went on Instagram to share a sultry photo of herself, leaving little to the imagination.
In the picture, the 26-year-old is seen posing completely nude, wearing only a floppy hat as she lounges on an outdoor chaise with the desert landscape behind her. The pop star's 88-plus million Instagram followers also got a look at Cyrus' dreamcatcher inkwork on her ribcage and a few small tattoos above her elbow.
"Festival season is here, I'm queer and ready to party! Lets go summer 2019," she wrote with a bunch of rainbow emojis.
Cyrus' barely-there pic appears to be promoting her upcoming performance at Woodstock's 50th anniversary this summer in New York.
"It’s Woodstock’s 50th and I’ll be there! Come party ! I perform on Friday! ❤️❤️❤️ which means I got the whole rest of the weekend to RAGE!" she wrote in a separate post.
This week hasn't been easy for Cyrus. She attended and performed at "The Voice" contestant Janice Freeman’s memorial service on Monday. Freeman, who was on Cyrus’ team during Season 13, died in early March.
Cyrus became emotional during her speech honoring the late singer, saying Freeman "taught me everything that I know about love.”
"I’m here for you, and I’m here for your family, and Janice I’ll miss you more than I could ever say," she added.
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Please put on your f*cking headphones.
Few words in the English language are as satisfying as a good fuck. Go ahead—say it right now. Sound your barbaric fuck over the rooftops of the world. Feels good, doesn't it?
Though Hollywood has had a long and complicated history with swearing in general, it's widely believed that 1970's M*A*S*H was the first major picture to use "Fuck." Since then, Hollywood has gone fucking nuts with it.
Below, please enjoy the best f-bombs in cinema history. (You might want to put in some headphones, just in case there are some fucking kids around.)
The Fucking Context: An action-movie montage, set to a jingoistic song that Toby Keith could have written.
What Makes It So Fucking Great: Anytime our country does something dumb, this song plays in my head. This song has been playing in my head nonstop for about 18 months.
The Fucking Context: Robert De Niro is understandably upset that his wife has had sex with Joe Pesci.
What Makes It So Fucking Great: It's always nice to revisit a pre-give-up De Niro.
The Fucking Context: David Hyde Pierce's astrophysics professor realizes an error in his calculations.
What Makes It So Fucking Great: It's just so fucking specific.
The Fucking Context: Fancy British king overcomes severe stutter through the medium of f-bombs.
What Makes It So Fucking Great: It is satisfying to watch prissy people swear.
The Fucking Context: Gyllenhaal family dinner gets real.
What Makes It So Fucking Great: Like the movie itself, it makes no fucking sense.
The Fucking Context: Bruce Willis gets catchphrase, runs with it.
What Makes It So Fucking Great: It might not be all that great. Bruce Willis might have just worn us the fuck down.
The Fucking Context: We meet the usual suspects, they yell at us.
What Makes It So Fucking Great: The sheer variety of fucks. Morose, gleeful, bemused, thoughtful, morose. Fuck really spreads its wings here.
The Fucking Context: Cartman has learned the f-word, and he is eager to share his findings.
What Makes It So Fucking Great: It harkens back to the delicious, forbidden f-bombs of early childhood.
The Fucking Context: Paul Rudd's zen surfing instructor shares his philosophy.
What Makes It So Fucking Great: It's the truest thing we've ever heard.
The Fucking Context: Booger from Revenge of the Nerds spits hot truth.
What Makes It So Fucking Great: It's true. Why the fuck do you think we're doing this?
The Fucking Context: The makers of a fake movie share an inside joke.
What Makes It So Fucking Great: "Oh! Because it sounds like ah, go fuck yourself!" – [Me]
The Fucking Context: The Roman Senate reveals its true purpose.
What Makes It So Fucking Great: It has never not been super fucking relevant.
The Fucking Context: The Mafia's guiding principle, laid bare.
What Makes It So Fucking Great: It was very nearly the thing Donald Trump had embroidered on his campaign hats.
The Fucking Context: The whole movie is one nonstop f-bomb
What Makes It So Fucking Great: It's all the fun of cocaine—without the expense, strained personal relationships, and heart trauma.
The Fucking Context: Dennis Hopper wants some.
What Makes It So Fucking Great: Who among us hasn't longed, just once, to shout this out loud?
The Fucking Context: Steve Carell gets his chest waxed, the world is made to feel his pain.
What Makes It So Fucking Great: People so rarely suffer for their art these days.

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Welcome to Great Moments in Drunken Hookup Failure, where we showcase three heartwarming true stories of drunken love gone horribly awry. Off we go.
It was my last year at camp I was in the oldest age group (around 15 years old) who were CITS. Feeling like the man, I figured that continuing the fling that I had the summer before camp isn't a great idea, and that I should try to hook up with the younger chicks. Seemed like a great idea at the time. It wasn't. I pretty much wasted all summer hooking up with better looking younger chicks instead of going for the sure thing.
Fast forward to the last night of camp. Banquet. For all that don't know, they bring everyone into the dining hall, and serve us a grease riddled meal of some chicken that when you cut it open, drips melted butter. How they got the butter into this piece of shit chicken still boggles my mind. Now it's "Camp Dance" time, but I am too old for DJ Jazzy Jeff. After flirting with my old fling from the year before, we decide, it's time to rekindle the fire.
We leave the indoor basketball court, and head for my bunk. Open the door, and it's my buddy and another camper girl, no room for us. We then trek 15 minutes down to the CIT Lounge, open the door, my buddy and his girl, no room for us. We head to the counselor lounge, start making out, only to get caught by some counselors, and told to leave. My dream of getting my first BJ is decreasing by the second. My girl says she is tired, and it's not worth it, I say, let's try one more place.
So the smart 15 year old kid I am, we walk to the back of camp, where all the old school buses sit. These school buses are practically rotting, they haven't been used in years. I open the door, and lift my girl into the school bus. Things are getting hot, and my pants are halfway off and ITS FINALLY HAPPENING. Only then, we hear a car drive by, with people yelling in Russian(the maintenance people). My girl looks up says, "This is really really sketchy and creepy, take me home". After 5 solid minutes of trying to convince her that this rotting school bus "is the perfect place for this right now" she gets up, gets dressed and we walk back to the dance.
So to wrap it up, after wasting 45 minutes finding a perfect place, I get my first ever (half) BJ in the back of a rotting old school bus. It was the best day of my life.
It's my freshman year of college. After having a few at a pregame, some friends and I head out to the local bar. Once there, I quickly spot a girl on the dance floor who I had hooked up with a few times. I walk over, we dance and, shortly thereafter, we begin making out.
Fast forward 30 minutes and we're back at my dorm. I unlock my room and we're both ready to get going. There's only one problem: As soon as I opened the door, the smell of shit hit our nostrils. I turn to her, give her a "I don't know what that smell is, but I'm sorry" look, turn on the lights and find that my roommate (who had also gone out that night and wasn't in the room at this point) had taken a big, big dump right in the middle of the floor.
This isn't some nice, clean log, either. This is a stinky smear, some really smelly shit ground into the carpet.
After spending about one second investigating, I turn to the girl and say something along the lines of, "Oh my God, my roommate shit on the floor." We step back into the hallway and I ask her if we could go back to her place. Unfortunately, her roommate is there and we can't. Bummer. Being a gentleman, I offer to walk her back, figuring I could at least make out a little bit more on the way to her place. Surprisingly, she refuses my offer, saying that we can stay in my room, shit on the floor and all. I think I laughed in her face, asked her if she was serious and, after finding out that she was, decided that it might not be the worst idea. I mean, if I was gonna sleep in there, I might as well have some company, right?
Before we get down to business, though, I have to find my roommate and tell him that I need the room for the night. I heard the shower going, so I stepped into the bathroom (which is completely destroyed – shit stains on the sinks and hand dryers, toilet paper everywhere, poop smeared all over both stalls) ask my roommate if he pooped in the room (he groaned in response) and then if I could have the place for the night (another groan – All clear!). So I head back in there with the girl, my roommate grabs some stuff and clears out, the girl and I proceed to get naked and – of course – I can't get it up. Spend about 30 minutes drunkenly eating her out/trying to wake up the little guy but nothing worked. We ended up passing out in the poop room pretty quickly thereafter.
After the girl left the next morning, I go out into the common area to wake up my roommate so he can clean up the room. He doesn't know what happened, but gladly cleans everything up. After laughing about it with him for a while, I decide to hit the shower (not the one he was in the night before), only to find that my shower sandals had shit all over them. Turns out he had shit on those and wiped his ass with the sleeve of my dress shirts. Great stuff. I packed a bag and stayed at a friend's dorm for the next 3 nights. Still friends with the roommate though, actually ended up living in the same building as him all four years of college.
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When I was in college at UW-Madison, I went to visit my best friend for Halloween weekend at UC-Boulder. I'd broken up with my first serious boyfriend several months before and was just starting to feel fully healed, so I decided that that weekend would be an excellent weekend to meet a cute guy and see what transpired.
My best friend, Stephanie, had a group of friends in Boulder that I was pleased to discover were fairly normal people. Dressed as a sheep, I made my way out to the bars with them and began to drink heavily, as I did in those days. I had my eyes on a good-looking guy dressed as Tyler Durden whose name now escapes me. He and I had some interesting political discussions (this was mere days before the 2004 presidential elections), but I blew it when I got too drunk, things weren't happening, and I declared to him and everyone else within earshot, "I'm gonna hook up with someone tonight!" Fail #1.
I began to flirt with another guy, who was dressed as a Domino's delivery man and whose name I do indeed remember: Bob. Bob was unusually tall and I am somewhat unusually short, but we hit it off and by the time someone (I hope whoever it was wasn't too drunk) drove us all home, Bob and I were snuggling in the car and then on the couch of my best friend's living room. We finally made our way up to the bedroom of one of Stephanie's absent roommates to make out. And make out we did! It felt awesome — I hadn't had a romantic or sexual experience of any kind for almost a year. After about half an hour, though, Bob stopped me. He proceeded to tell me that he was "religious" and that what we were doing (making out while fully clothed) was against his religion. My impatient atheist self was speechless and annoyed. I rolled over and went to sleep. Fail #2.
A couple of hours later, I was awoken by Bob getting up to use the bathroom. When he came back to bed he started touching me and trying to make out with me again! I figured, what the hell, this is a drunken hookup anyway, and proceeded to go with the flow. But ten minutes later, Bob was all, "No, no, I can't." Again. Fail #3.
The next time I woke up, it was light outside and Bob was getting dressed. I groggily asked him what time it was (8am) and where he was going. He said, "I'm sorry, I've got to get to church. So long, Madison." Infinite fail.

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