Soliciting advice about things like hedge trimming, basket weaving, or how to convince your girlfriend to bring another woman to bed is one of the few productive things you could do with this horrible invention we call the Internet. But there's one thing that has always amazed me, people who ask for medical advice online. The only answer to any medical advice question should be, "GO TO A FUCKING DOCTOR OH GOD WHY AREN'T YOU GOING TO SEE A DOCTOR ALREADY AND EVEN IF YOU CAN'T SEE A DOCTOR COMING FOR HERE FOR HELP IS THE LAST THING YOU SHOULD EVER DO."
Someone sharing inappropriate personal information over the Internet? I can't believe it! I'd be more surprised if this person didn't tell us about their farts.
This is a question I hope I am never asked.
Not his sperm. My sperms, on the other hand.
You want love, not sex? Why didn't you say so? Love is a whole lot cheaper than sex.
Dr. Internet, paging Dr. Internet.
Loathing doctors and drug companies? That's just another symptom of asperger's!
"Really, Holmes!" I dropped into my seat, shocked. "You are remarkably tall! What are you, six foot six? Six foot eight?"
As the 19th century diver approaches a giant clam, a flash of brilliant golden light flares from within the shell. I emerge in a swirl of bubbles and do the timeless universal underwater hand signals for the following: ZODIAC KILLER, KKK, BLOOD OF YOUTH
There are hundreds of stories happening on the World Wide Web. Let me tell you, that's a very wide web. Our goal at Weekend Web is to bring you the latest headlines from around the Internet. We go into the very bowels of message boards everywhere and find out what millions of online citizens have to say.