On the question on the preference of either the buttocks or the breasts, the very nature is complex to answer for both of those body parts complement each other quite swimmingly, and even moreso when we bring the thighs into the situation. As such, it is difficult for I to answer for the buttocks and breasts - or the "ass" and "titties", as it were - are both equally attractive. Though if I was to give an answer, I would have to say that as much as I quite fancy the breasts, I will have to pick the buttocks and the thighs as my final answer. And if you will allow me to do so, I would also like to add feet as a heavy bonus.
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later dweebs
twitchquotes:
wow! almost 16k people sitting inside watching some dude play video games on Memorial Day LMAO. bout to hit the pool with some dime I matched on tinder and her friends to play beerpong. she wants me so bad its not even funny haha. not gonna smash til i get something to eat tho cause sex kills gains. have fun watching the stream i guess lol. later dweebs
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My pasta is really just not salty enough
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Hey Kripp, I just finished writing my most recent copypasta, but it needs something else and I was wondering if you can help. My pasta is really just not salty enough and needs some PJSalt. Pls help me finish my masterpiece.
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Kripp
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I finally did it. I out pizza'd the Hut
I finally did it. I out pizza'd the Hut. It was the greatest mistake of my life.
After years of perfecting my recipe, I made my way down to the local hut, fresh-baked pizza pie in hand. "Try this," I told the kid working the counter. He did, and he had to agree that it was better than anything Pizza Hut had to offer. Soon, the entire store, customers included, was feasting on my delicious pie. The manager walked over, grabbed a slice, and took a bite. I look at him, anticipation rising. This was the boss, the local fief lord of the Hut. His approval meant more to me than all the rest combined. He took a bite and nodded. "I'll be damned," he said, "you really did it. You out- pizza'd the Hut. Shame." Shame? What did he mean by tha-- the manager pulled a gun out from behind his apron and shot the nearest customer in the head. "We have a Code Jalapeño," he said into his wrist as he executed the remaining customers. "I repeat, we have a Code Jalapeño." The ground was slick with blood. The kid working the counter choked out his dying breath as the manager turned to me. "You just had to do it motherfucker. You just had to out pizza the Hut." He shoved the gun in my face. I was too scared to fight, too scared to run. The manager pulled the trigger.
A click. The gun was empty. I threw a chair at the manager and scrambled out of the Pizza Hut, not even bothering to see if my missile hit its mark. I was closely pursued by the manager, who had gotten his hands on a deadly sharp pizza cutter. I suspected in his hands it would cut more than pizza. Somehow, I was able to get into my car and speed off, the manager cursing my existence as I left him behind. I took a deep breath. The manager was clearly psychotic. Yes, that was it, just a crazy man with a gun. It had to be. My phone rang. Sister. I picked it. "They're dead, she sobbed. They're all dead. Mom, Dad, Chris, Bill. Dead. They killed them all." I could barely understand her, so great were her sobs. "What do you mean? Where are you?" I asked urgently. "How is this possi--" A single gunshot sounded through my phone's speakers. Silence. Then, I heard a man's voice. "No one out pizzas the Hut." He hung up. I drove down the empty country road, mind blank. I had nothing. They killed my family. I was alone.
At that moment I knew what I had to do. They took everything from me. Well then, I would take everything from them. Pizza Hut was so terrified of being out pizza'd, they forgot there's one thing worse than a man with a recipe: A man with nothing to lose. I'll give them a limited time offer they won't be able to refuse: two bullets for the price of one.
With a free side order of pain.