It can never be opposite day. When ever you say "HEY IT'S OPPOSITE DAY!" the opposite would apply therefor it would not be opposite day. Also if you say "IT'S NOT OPPOSITE DAY!" the affect is not applied.
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What has my life come to? I'm sitting in an empty room
twitchquotes:
What has my life come to? I'm sitting in an empty room, behind my wooden pc watching a guy play a card game for children, probably earning my yearly salary in a week's time. All of my ambitions are now gone. Only thing that i have left is my old pc and a memory of who i once was...
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Hearthstone
lethal
twitchquotes:
Amaz moans hard as Kripp gropes his smallish package. “Pepperoni” Kripp whispered into Amaz’s elvish ear, as they started making out. “Do…do I win?” Amaz says tentatively, as Kripp slowly tugs away his pants. “Your deck is crazy” Kripp says, as he flips Amaz on his back. “It’s lethal guys” Amaz says playfully, as he presents his Twisting Nether.
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Kripp
Hearthstone
KappaPride
Diablo 2 was great Kripp
twitchquotes:
(◕‿◕✿) Diablo 2 was great Kripp, I especially loved the part where you mindlessly clicked in an endless, ball-numbing drone for hours on end as the screen flooded with indiscernible ***. (◕‿◕✿)
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Kripp
This gentleman's deck is ABSURD!
twitchquotes:
☑ “This gentleman's deck is ABSURD!” ☑ “My deck cannot hope to prevail against a deck of that caliber” ☑ "He REQUIRED those two cards in subsequent order to succeed" ☑ “He extracted from his deck the only cards capable of defeating me” ☑ "His cards defied logic" ☑ “There was no manoeuvre at my disposal to secure victory” ☑ “I played impeccably”
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Hearthstone
This Copypasta Is CRAZY!
It's not gay with socks on
When I was 13 years old a buddy of mine tried to convince me to fool around. I wasn't into it, and he told me it's not gay if you're wearing socks. I didn't believe him, went home, and asked my dad.
That's 'gentleman's gay', hardly gay at all. Don't see it much these days.
The 50s were a different time. What were we to do? We were typical boarding school boys, rich with vigor, skin slick with drying sweat and gritty earth from a game of pigskin.
At night our young, virile bodies filled the dorm with sweet-musky vapors, like game-meat stewed with apple and peppercorn. You'd awake in darkness to the hushed, melodic rhythm of two pairs of white tube socks, barely visible in moonlight, bouncing on the hardwood floor.
The deep bond of male friendship played like a thousand different human instruments. The wet claps of skin on skin, the gentle thud of heads on backboards, frenzied cries in the throes of climax. Wilbur, so fat and soft like tapioca pudding. His breasts were so like the real thing, what we fantasized of our future wives. Unwilling, defenseless Wilbur, so slow and uncoordinated in the dark. 10 of us would glaze his bare, pink flesh like a giant raspberry danish. He once had the audacity to tell Headmaster Redford. But Redford was a Deerfield boy once, he understood. So he joined us on our midnight hog hunts.
Through college and years after we'd find time here and there, away from the wives at a family lake house. But it's been decades now - the times have certainly changed. If you wanted to do something private with another man, in your socks, it wasn’t ‘gay’. It was just two men, celebrating each other's strength.