[Copypasta] There's no reason to have a Dad Bod when push ups exist

There's no reason to have a Dad Bod when push ups exist. I'm always finding time to crank out a few p-ups. Ahh yep, I do maybe a thousand p-ups a day and I'm a father of two. Those nerds coloring with crayons? Time to squeeze in a few p-ups. Little dorks eating mac and cheese? It's p-up time. I'm like a leathered marble statue of a really muscular guy, my muscles are so tight and rugged. Hell, I took a p-up break while typing this comment. The ladies at work, these little work ladies, love when I crank out p-ups right there in front of them and come up off the floor red faced and with a sizeable bulge in my slacks. That bulge is unrelated to the p-ups, by the way, I'm just a guy who's always one hard nipple poking through a shirt away from a full meat platter. Hell, I'd cheat on my wife with one of these little work ladies if she wasn't one of the little work ladies I work with. We bone in the bathroom. I get jacked on p-ups and then we bone in the bathroom and there's nothing my boss can do about it because my vascularity is way too intimidating. I tell him he should do some p-ups if he wants to fuck my wife. It's the only way she gets that slizz juiced and loosed. She wants to see multitudinous p-ups and she wants to see those p-ups now! Whoops! Haha, okay, looks like she's watching me type this over my shoulder. Uh oh. See ya later, nerdbags. I'm gonna p-ups myself up to a full plumper and pump that honey ham rump of my little work lady wife.
April 2021
(โ–€ฬฟฤนฬฏโ”œโ”ฌโ”ดโ”ฌโ”ด Psst... kid, you wanna disable adblock?
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Falls Guys with boobs

โ „โ „โ „โ „โ „โ „โ „โ „โ „โฃ€โฃ€โฃคโฃคโฃคโฃ€โก€โ „โ „โ „โ „โ „โ „โ „โ „โ „โ „โ „โ „โ „โ „ โ „โ „โ „โ „โ „โ „โ „โฃ โฃถโฃฟโ ฟโฃฉโฃตโฃถโฃถโฃโก โก€โ „โ „โ „โ „โ „โ „โ „โ „โ „โ „โ „โ „ โ „โ „โ „โ „โ „โ „โฃดโฃฟโฃฟโกŸโฃดโกฟโขฟโฃฟโฃฟโขฟโฃทโก”โก„โ „โ „โ „โ „โ „โ „โ „โ „โ „โ „โ „ โ „โ „โ „โ „โ „โข โฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโก‡โฃฟโฃ‡โฃˆโฃฟโฃฟโฃคโฃฝโฃงโขฐโก„โ „โ „โ „โ „โ „โ „โ „โ „โ „โ „ โ „โ „โ „โ „โ „โ ˜โฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฌโ ปโขฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโกฟโขƒโฃผโฃฟโก„โ „โ „โ „โ „โ „โ „โ „โ „โ „ โ „โ „โ „โ „โ „โ „โฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃทโฃถโฃถโฃถโฃพโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโขนโฃฟโฃฆโฃคโฃ€โ „โ „โ „โ „ โ „โข โฃพโก™โข‹โฃพโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโ ฟโฃปโฃฟโฃฟโกฟโฃฟโกฟโขฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฎโฃ‰โ ‹โ ‰โฃฟโฃฟโฃถโฃ„โ „ โฃฐโฃฟโฃโกฉโฃพโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโกฟโข‰โฃˆโ ™โขปโฃฟโฃ‡โขนโก‡โฃพโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโ „โ ถโ ˆโข›โฃฟโฃฟโฃง โขฟโฃฟโฃฟโขฑโกฟโ ‹โ ‰โฃฟโฃฟโ โ ™โ ‰โ „โฃธโฃฟโฃฟโขธโฃงโกนโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃทโก€โ „โ ˆโ ฑโ พโ  โ ˆโ ™โ ›โ ‹โ „โ „โ „โฃฟโฃฟโกˆโฃถโฃถโฃพโฃฟโฃฟโก‡โฃผโฃฟโฃทโฃญโ ™โ ฟโ ฟโ ‹โ „โ „โ „โ „โ „โ „ โ „โ „โ „โ „โ „โ „โ „โฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฆโฃโฃ›โฃซโฃฅโฃพโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโ „โ „โ „โ „โ „โ „โ „โ „ โ „โ „โ „โ „โ „โ „โ „โฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโ Ÿโ „โ „โ „โ „โ „โ „โ „โ „ โ „โ „โ „โ „โ „โ „โ „โ ˜โขฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโกฟโ ‹โ „โ „โ „โ „โ „โ „โ „โ „โ „ โ „โ „โ „โ „โ „โ „โ „โ „โ „โขนโฃฟโฃฟโฃฟโกฟโ ›โขปโฃฟโกโ โ „โ „โ „โ „โ „โ „โ „โ „โ „โ „โ „ โ „โ „โ „โ „โ „โ „โ „โ „โ „โ „โ ‰โ ‰โ ‰โ „โ ฐโ ฟโ ฟโ ฟโ †โ „โ „โ „โ „โ „โ „โ „โ „โ „โ „โ „
ascii art
January 2021

NSFW

Don't talk in the chat unless you're classed as high sr

twitchquotes: Don't talk in the chat unless you're classed as high sr (2000+) FailFish keep chat high quality
twitch chat
June 2019
OverwatchLeague

Overwatch

I'm gonna play this perfectly. Kripp misses lethal.

twitchquotes: Kripparrian grabs Rania by the scruff of her delicate neck, thrusting her to the Hyper-X Ultra-White High-Def gaming chair. The Krippster's rightfully claimed woman presents her rose-hued folds to her master in submission. "Top deck me and #Shrek me, you Romanian stallion" Rania wails in passion. Kripparadino kicks Cattarrian aside, and towers over the chair, "I'm gonna play this perfectly." Kripp misses lethal.
twitch chat
February 2019
Kripp

Hearthstone

Troll face kid

โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–„โ–„โ–„โ–„โ–€โ–€โ–€โ–€โ–€โ–€โ–€โ–€โ–„โ–„โ–„โ–„โ–„โ–„โ–„ โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–ˆโ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–€โ–€โ–„ โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–ˆโ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–ˆ โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–ˆโ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–„โ–ˆโ–ˆโ–€โ–„โ–„โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–„โ–„โ–„โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–ˆ โ–‘โ–„โ–€โ–‘โ–„โ–„โ–„โ–‘โ–‘โ–ˆโ–€โ–€โ–€โ–€โ–„โ–„โ–ˆโ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–ˆโ–ˆโ–„โ–„โ–ˆโ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–ˆ โ–ˆโ–‘โ–‘โ–ˆโ–‘โ–„โ–‘โ–€โ–„โ–„โ–„โ–€โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–ˆโ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–ˆ โ–ˆโ–‘โ–‘โ–ˆโ–‘โ–ˆโ–€โ–„โ–„โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–ˆโ–€โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–€โ–„โ–‘โ–‘โ–„โ–€โ–€โ–€โ–„โ–‘โ–ˆ โ–‘โ–ˆโ–‘โ–€โ–„โ–‘โ–ˆโ–„โ–‘โ–ˆโ–€โ–„โ–„โ–‘โ–€โ–‘โ–€โ–€โ–‘โ–„โ–„โ–€โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–ˆโ–‘โ–‘โ–ˆ โ–‘โ–‘โ–ˆโ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–€โ–„โ–€โ–ˆโ–„โ–„โ–‘โ–ˆโ–€โ–€โ–€โ–„โ–„โ–„โ–„โ–€โ–€โ–ˆโ–€โ–ˆโ–ˆโ–‘โ–ˆ โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–ˆโ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–ˆโ–ˆโ–‘โ–‘โ–€โ–ˆโ–„โ–„โ–„โ–ˆโ–„โ–„โ–ˆโ–„โ–„โ–ˆโ–ˆโ–„โ–‘โ–‘โ–ˆ โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–ˆโ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–€โ–€โ–„โ–‘โ–ˆโ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–ˆโ–‘โ–ˆโ–€โ–ˆโ–€โ–ˆโ–€โ–ˆโ–ˆโ–‘โ–ˆ โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–€โ–„โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–€โ–€โ–„โ–„โ–„โ–ˆโ–„โ–ˆโ–„โ–ˆโ–„โ–ˆโ–„โ–€โ–‘โ–‘โ–ˆ โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–€โ–„โ–„โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–ˆ โ–‘โ–‘โ–โ–Œโ–‘โ–ˆโ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–€โ–€โ–„โ–„โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–ˆ โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–ˆโ–โ–Œโ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–ˆโ–‘โ–€โ–„โ–„โ–„โ–„โ–„โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–ˆ โ–‘โ–‘โ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–„โ–„โ–ˆโ–‘โ–„โ–„โ–‘โ–ˆโ–ˆโ–„โ–„โ–„โ–„โ–„โ–„โ–„โ–„โ–€ โ–‘โ–โ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–‘โ–‘โ–„โ–€โ–ˆโ–€โ–ˆโ–„โ–„โ–„โ–„โ–„โ–ˆโ–€โ–„โ–€โ–„ โ–‘โ–‘โ–ˆโ–‘โ–‘โ–Œโ–‘โ–ˆโ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–€โ–„โ–‘โ–ˆโ–€โ–ˆโ–‘โ–„โ–€โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–ˆ โ–‘โ–‘โ–ˆโ–‘โ–‘โ–Œโ–‘โ–ˆโ–‘โ–‘โ–ˆโ–‘โ–‘โ–ˆโ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–ˆโ–‘โ–‘โ–ˆโ–‘โ–‘โ–ˆ โ–‘โ–‘โ–ˆโ–‘โ–‘โ–€โ–€โ–‘โ–‘โ–ˆโ–ˆโ–‘โ–‘โ–ˆโ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–ˆโ–‘โ–‘โ–ˆโ–‘โ–‘โ–ˆ โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–€โ–€โ–„โ–„โ–€โ–€โ–‘โ–ˆโ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–€โ–„โ–€โ–€โ–€โ–€โ–ˆโ–‘โ–‘โ–ˆ โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–ˆโ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–„โ–‘โ–‘โ–„โ–ˆโ–ˆโ–„โ–„โ–€ โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–ˆโ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–„โ–‘โ–‘โ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆโ–ˆ โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–ˆโ–„โ–‘โ–‘โ–„โ–„โ–„โ–‘โ–‘โ–„โ–ˆ โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–ˆโ–€โ–€โ–‘โ–„โ–‘โ–€โ–€โ–ˆ โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–ˆโ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–ˆโ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–ˆ โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–ˆโ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–ˆ โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–ˆโ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–ˆ โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–ˆโ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–ˆ โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–ˆโ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–ˆ โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–ˆโ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–ˆ โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–ˆโ–„โ–„โ–„โ–โ–„โ–„โ–„โ–ˆ โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–„โ–„โ–„โ–„โ–€โ–„โ–„โ–€โ–ˆโ–€โ–„โ–„โ–€โ–„โ–„โ–„โ–„ โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–„โ–€โ–„โ–‘โ–„โ–‘โ–„โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–ˆโ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–„โ–‘โ–„โ–‘โ–„โ–€โ–„ โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–‘โ–ˆโ–„โ–„โ–„โ–„โ–„โ–„โ–„โ–„โ–„โ–€โ–„โ–„โ–„โ–„โ–„โ–„โ–„โ–„โ–„โ–ˆ
ascii art
March 2021

Lord Microsoft

10:43 PM, Microsoft Tower, Washington. A figure stands in shadow, red lights from the theistic ceiling flood the spacious hall. Along the sides, hallmark pieces of technology are proudly displayed on golden pedestals. The Xbox, Windows, Hololens; At the center of it all, the vaccine. "Microsoft Microbe Covid-19" the label on the syringe reads. A glowing substance can be seen sitting still inside. Monitors flicker to life at the end of the hall, each one showing the point of view of an innocent civilian. The light draws a silhouette of a man. His body, frail. His skin is leathery and rugged. Breathing apparatus cover his face, a cold green mist slowly spewing out. The grand door opens, humanoids armed with weapons drag an unkempt and furious man towards the being in shadow. They throw him to the floor, spit slathering the ground. "This is the last one?" the figure asks. "Yes, Lord Microsoft. all 4,607,423,673 other citizens have been accounted for." The rugged man looks upwards, his face bloodied and bruised. His eyes meet Lord Microsoft's. Puffed from tears, his eyes can only show one emotion: anger. "Bill Gates, you piece of shit. I swore to Samantha that if I ever-" "Silence, creature!" Lord Microsoft slaps him with the back of his hand. "I am lord Microsoft, and you will refer to me as such!" The guards grab the man, hoisting him up. "Now, let us delay no further. It has taken me years to get to this point, and I will not have my victory denied!" Lord Microsoft grabs the vaccine and primes it for injection. "Such a small thing, isn't it? Yet, it has afforded me the right to dominate all life on Earth. Covid was a blessing, not a curse." The man's eyes widened, he screams in retaliation, but the guards shut his mouth with force. Lord Microsoft pierces his flesh with the needle. A flourescent orange liquid can be seen coursing through his veins. He falls to the floor, his muscles tightening and constricting in unnatural fashion. His eyes bulge from his skull and he shouts in pain. He slumps over, and in only a moment he comes back to his feet. His pupils dilated and his skin, pale. "How may I serve you, my lord."
August 2021

COVID

Coronavirus

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