Want a really wacky compliment? Go surreal with the help of this site!

If you do, then go to the Surrealist Compliment Generator. It’s a site that basically gives you a lot of surreal “compliments”… the reason why the word “compliments” is in quotes is that some of the sentences it spews out don’t even sound like they could be compliments by any stretch of the imagination! (some of them are in foreign languages)

Post what you get from the site… it’ll be interesting to see what we all get! I wouldn’t call it an experiment, per se, but certainly very interesting. (no, my brain cannot think of alternative words at this hour; it’s almost 12:30 and I should get to bed soon)

On my most recent visit, I got this:

Doesn’t even sound like a compliment, does it? I guess that’s what surrealism is all about… someone care to enlighten me?

Just in case you’re worried, this site does generate stuff that maybe could be construed as a compliment… for example:

Very confusing “compliment”… see what I mean?

Weird stuff, which is what I happen to like! Remembe, enlighten the rest of us by telling what you got from the site! (duplicates don’t really matter, I suppose)

I like the third one best.

First try:

Hmmm. Okay, again:

I sense an injury theme here. Huh. One more time:

Okay, thats it, I give up!

“Your Cerebral Hematoma requires me to congratulate you on your ability to compute the Lesbian Integral of a macaroon.”

and then…

“You move with the eloquence of a fiery wall of disintegrating fuselage.”

“Your skin emanates such a porcelain sheen that I am tempted to stamp WC across your bosom and under your armpits.”

ooh! Looks like I’ve got my pickup lines for tonight…

“Your face is like an imperfectly shaven tennis ball.”

Then again.

…I kinda’ like it…

"Your eyes are much like milky pools of pantyhose. "
“Where it not for the dizzy whiptail ambivalence of your crumbling fleece, I could never contemplate the ways of so many merchant bankers in heat.”

(Whoa, that was long.)
“Suffer, for you are toasting the Marzipan!.. (…and may I upon pretense ring latent tintinabulations for your Andalusian raisins!)”
“Your elbow patches rumble with a fear reminiscent of mayonnaise sidecars cradled in scotchguard.”
Very surreal…

Actually, that’s true…

Your face is like an imperfectly shaven tennis ball.

A legion of French Bosoms could not match the lucid beauty of your toenails!

If you were a camel your humps would be esoterically bald from overuse.

Your Hands do the work of 10,000 highly trained lesbian jumping beans.


Undeserved engine of procreation? Ok, if you say so.

Am I wrong or does this one mean “I’d like to be whipped by your egg-laying chest”?

“If I were to combine your blood, toes, and hair, it might not be you, but it would be enough for my basic desires.”

Damn, that’s deep

How about this one???
“Come, let me gnaw your fingernails that I may absorb and lose myself in the wise and gritty detritus that is you.”

"The dimples of your breasts do pucker evocatively when you smile. "

"The quietness of a manhole cover cannot compare with the wild vapours of nylon I sense in your larynx. "

“Though I may never see you again, I wish you the warmest clam chowder, the finest of embalmings, and the best in stainless steel cadaver pans that money can buy.”

that brightened my day. . . . .

"Woods nymphs sprinkle your path with bowlings balls while you dance and prowl in the sequined moonlight with leftover heads of lettuce. "

Well, that’s true, actually…

“You mutter such objects of equine delight, while in a basket of hounds and toes, that the mind’s ability to sew together slices of mordant ivory becomes tamed with visions of Tamils in Constantinople.”

Great, now I’m going to have a nightmare about a basket of hounds and toes…

Your mucous membranes glisten with the glow of forty-seven burning violins.

Um… ouch?

“May you always be as vivid as your hallucinations.”

Well, seeing as how I’ve never has hallucinations I guess that makes me pretty dull.

I got:

Um… thanks, I guess…?

Does that mean that garbage bins and ivy would be acceptable things to practically kill myself with a huge stone?

Seeing reflections in cloves? Sounds weird to me…

Liquid stones, eh?

Hmmm… didn’t know that my chin and a leopard’s frontal lobes were related.

So does that mean my eye sockets are fake?

Somehow, I can’t see this as a compliment… “You need to wear corrective glasses REALLY badly” doesn’t sound like one to me, at any rate.

Sausages procreating in the bathwater of my appearing to be real? Works for me, I guess…

Now THAT is no compliment, and no mistake about it! (though it sounds like something my brother might say as a joke to our friends…)

Hmm… is that good or bad?

Soft, fertile eye caresses? Hmm… someone care to translate the rest of this?

Horses, Tamils, biting ivory, a basket of hounds and toes… yup, makes sense to me! :stuck_out_tongue:

Thanks… I always thought I looked dashing with a mustache. :stuck_out_tongue:

Translation help, anyone? All I can make out is “my life” and “magnificent”.

THis one is even worse for me, translation-wise! I can’t understand any of it except “my”! (at least, that’s what I think it is…)

This is a long, incomprehensible one… rhinestone codpieces… hehehe…

Oh, and since when do I have an “implement”, so to speak? :stuck_out_tongue:

Good to know… now I can go to the doctor with a Web diagnosis.

Did Catherine the Great have any sisters? Just wondering…

There’s that horse theme again, this time with vegetables and turkey…

My earlobes are like fish heads in winter? Ooooookkkkkaaaaayy…

The umbrella of your indifference, eh? Well, I guess I know where we stand…

I’m not sure that swordfish NEED to shower, strictly speaking… don’t they live in the ocean?

That goes without saying.

Well, considering that I don’t have a brother-in-law yet (my sister being only 19, after all), I’ll keep that in mind for future reference, thanks.

I sit really? I guess that’s a good thing…

“Oh how my pathological scar desires to read poems through the ruddied girth of your soul.”

Great. Even my soul is fat

“Your moist towelette speaks to me in leather as the disgruntled post man listens attentively in Yiddish while pumping the iron pumpkin of the mini-van”

I have no idea what to say except that I’m pretty sure ‘pumping the iron pumpkin of the mini-van’ will make you go blind.