Sorry! Something wrong happened behind the scenes. Refresh and try again.
[Copypasta]Malta vs Penguins
This does not change the fact that in Antarctica there are 21 million penguins and in Malta there are 502,653 inhabitants. So if the penguins decide to invade Malta, each Maltese will have to fight 42 penguins.
This does not change the fact that in Antarctica there are 21 million penguins and in Malta there are 502,653 inhabitants. So if the penguins decide to invade Malta, each Maltese will have to fight 42 penguins.
twitchquotes:"Your deck is insane." Trump said, as he slipped his feminine hand into Kripp's pants and smirked. "Are you trying to top-deck me?" protests Kripp, as Trump blushes, the boyish figure undressed before Kripp. "Weak tempo play, Trump." The two kissed, deeply and passionately, and afterwards Trump places his Leper Gnome into Kripp's Twisting Nether.
"Your deck is insane." Trump said, as he slipped his feminine hand into Kripp's pants and smirked. "Are you trying to top-deck me?" protests Kripp, as Trump blushes, the boyish figure undressed before Kripp. "Weak tempo play, Trump." The two kissed, deeply and passionately, and afterwards Trump places his Leper Gnome into Kripp's Twisting Nether.
Natalie Portman is the reason I work out
Natalie Portman is the reason I work out. I have this fantasy where we start talking at the Vanity Fair Oscars party bar. We exchange a few pleasantries. She asks what I do. I say I loved her in New Girl. She laughs. I get my drink.
"Well, see ya," I say and walk away. I've got her attention now. How many guys voluntarily leave a conversation with Natalie Portman? She touches her neck as she watches me leave.
Later, as the night's dragged on and the coterie of gorgeous narcissists grows increasingly loose, she finds me on the balcony, my bowtie undone, smoking a cigarette.
"Got a spare?" she asks.
"What's in it for me?" I say as I hand her one of my little white ladies. She smiles.
"Conversation with me, duh."
I laugh.
"What's so funny?" she protests.
"Nothing, nothing... It's just... don't you grow tired of the egos?"
"You get used to it," she says, lighting her cigarette and handing me back the lighter.
"What would you do if you weren't an actress?" I ask.
"Teaching, I think."
"And if I was your student, what would I be learning?"
"Discipline," she says quickly, looking up into my eyes, before changing the subject. "Where are you from?"
"Bermuda," I say.
"Oh wow. That's lovely."
"It's ok," I admit. "Not everything is to my liking."
"What could possibly be not to your liking in Bermuda?" she inquires.
"I don't like sand," I tell her. "It's coarse and rough and irritating and it gets everywhere."
Natalie Portman is the reason I work out. I have this fantasy where we start talking at the Vanity Fair Oscars party bar. We exchange a few pleasantries. She asks what I do. I say I loved her in New Girl. She laughs. I get my drink.
"Well, see ya," I say and walk away. I've got her attention now. How many guys voluntarily leave a conversation with Natalie Portman? She touches her neck as she watches me leave.
Later, as the night's dragged on and the coterie of gorgeous narcissists grows increasingly loose, she finds me on the balcony, my bowtie undone, smoking a cigarette.
"Got a spare?" she asks.
"What's in it for me?" I say as I hand her one of my little white ladies. She smiles.
"Conversation with me, duh."
I laugh.
"What's so funny?" she protests.
"Nothing, nothing... It's just... don't you grow tired of the egos?"
"You get used to it," she says, lighting her cigarette and handing me back the lighter.
"What would you do if you weren't an actress?" I ask.
"Teaching, I think."
"And if I was your student, what would I be learning?"
"Discipline," she says quickly, looking up into my eyes, before changing the subject. "Where are you from?"
"Bermuda," I say.
"Oh wow. That's lovely."
"It's ok," I admit. "Not everything is to my liking."
"What could possibly be not to your liking in Bermuda?" she inquires.
"I don't like sand," I tell her. "It's coarse and rough and irritating and it gets everywhere."
(βΜΏΔΉΜ―βΜΏ ΜΏ) This is the 0-3 Police, You're coming with us. (βΜΏΔΉΜ―βΜΏ ΜΏ)
"touch grass" is not an insult towards gamers
"touch grass" is not an insult towards gamers, rather it is advice for them. When participating in intense periods of gaming, the human hand has a tendency to get sweaty. The sweat causes the hand to become slick, and it b becomes more difficult to retain a grip on the gamers gaming mouse, thus making it more difficult to perform well in intense gaming moments. By touching grass with the gamers hand, the grass will impart a layer of particulate onto the gamers hand, the particulate can be made of a variety of dusts, dirts and other natural matter. This particulate will then act in a similar form to climbers chalk, absorbing the sweat and drying out the gamers hand. With dry hands, the gamer can now perform to their maximum when gaming. This is why when an enemy or teammate tells you to touch grass, they are simply trying to assist you in performing better.
"touch grass" is not an insult towards gamers, rather it is advice for them. When participating in intense periods of gaming, the human hand has a tendency to get sweaty. The sweat causes the hand to become slick, and it b becomes more difficult to retain a grip on the gamers gaming mouse, thus making it more difficult to perform well in intense gaming moments. By touching grass with the gamers hand, the grass will impart a layer of particulate onto the gamers hand, the particulate can be made of a variety of dusts, dirts and other natural matter. This particulate will then act in a similar form to climbers chalk, absorbing the sweat and drying out the gamers hand. With dry hands, the gamer can now perform to their maximum when gaming. This is why when an enemy or teammate tells you to touch grass, they are simply trying to assist you in performing better.