Eightball is an online magazine that apparently caters to an audience of young, male moisture-seekers (if that's not redundant). Tip-offs: frequent use of terms like "rack" and "G-spot." What's surprising is this part of the site, where the guys discuss their experiments in lucid and controlled dreaming. Included is johnnycrackahead's burrito nightmare:

"So last night I'm walking through the mall randomly mumbling to myself 'I'm asleep' or 'I'm awake' depending on my synapses at the time of spastic vocalization and I pass this voo-doo looking motherfucker who notices me idling around the food court eating scraps left on tables by the other mall patrons who had hastily left after I started roaming and rambling to myself. I didn't even notice him standing next to me as I said 'I'm awake' to myself through a mouth full of burrito supreme. He put his hand on my shoulder and I forced myself to pull my attention away from a glistening glob of sour cream I was getting ready to lick off of the table to make eye contact. He stood easily seven feet tall, was black with shoulder-length dred-locks and a black trench coat. I didn't notice any of that at the time though, because his eyes had no pupils or retinas. ..."