Bruh? Like sorry i don't smell like a mix of piss sweat and axe body spray Troy. I will gladly shower every night AND morning and use fruit and coconut smelled soap and deodorant. My good hygeine doesn't have anything to do with my professional competitive cock sucking
Waiting for adblock to be disabled
More Copypastas
Nigerian Prince Haseem
Mr Bear song (that's where your hopes go to die)
Well There's all sorts of creatures, down on Dangley Doodle Farm. Like wise old Mr Octopus, with way too many arms! There's Mr Pig! And Mr Cow! They're always in good moods. But That's cause they don't know they'll soon be sliced up into food! Mr Bear! What's that over there? That's where your hopes go to turn into despair. Mr Bear! What's That over there? That's where your dreams go to die! Mr Racoon! Wants to go to the moon. He'll end up as a bus driver soon! Mr Porcupine! Thinks he'll read the news at nine, he'll end up as a janitor, who stinks of turpentine. Mr Tiny Mouse! Thought he'd own a massive house. Ended up in a bed sit where he can't control the louse! Mr Horse! Though he'd go into professional sports. Now he's an alcoholic and he's on his third divorce! Mr Bear! What's that over there? That's the place your life becomes an endless questionnaire! Mr Bear! What's that over there? That's where your hopes go to die. Lower your expectations! Maybe you could get a job in telecommunications. No matter how you try you'll never reach the League of Nations. The best you'll get is middle rank in trading operations! So lower your expectations! You'll never win an oscar, so there's no congratulations. The future that is coming will not meet specifications. And no amount of visualisations will save you from your own deterioration Mr Bear! What's that over there? That's the tramp who thought he'd be a multimillionaire! Mr Bear! What's that over there? That's where self-esteem goes to die. Mr Bear! What's that over there? That's the disappointment that is waiting everywhere! Mr Bear! What's that over there? That's where your schemes go to die! That's where your dreams go to die! That's where dreams go to die!
When Kripp is eat I pretend he is eat me
twitchquotes:
When Kripp is eat I pretend he is eat me. I go down Kripp wet Kripp throat and am in warm Kripp stomach. Then I go deeper into the Kripp. I am made into Kripp gold. The Kripp sits on toilet and frees me. I am sad I am no longer Kripp food. Then Kripp eats me again.
twitch chat
Kripp
Classic
Hi Michael, it's the ghost of Abraham Lincoln here
twitchquotes:
Hi Michael, it's the ghost of Abraham Lincoln here, 16th president of the USA. Just wondering if you can let me see your minimap. I realize you don't like "ghosting" but maybe you can make an exception for me. Sorry for spooking you.
twitch chat
imaqtpie
Ben Shapiro ordering pizza
Hello, is this Pizza Hut?
Excellent. My name is Ben Shapiro. Conservative thought leader. Prominent white YouTuber. The Muggsy Bogues of the intellectual dark Web. And—look, it’s just a fact—I would like to order some pizza pie. If you are triggered by that request, I do not care. I truly do not.
Now let’s discuss conditions. First, thank you for agreeing to debate me. Typically, in fora such as this, I am met with ad-hominem mudslinging, anything from “You racist creep” or “Is that your real voice?” to raucous schoolyard laughter and threats of the dreaded “toilet swirly.” However, your willingness to engage with me over the phone on the subject of pizza shows an intellectual fortitude and openness to dangerous ideas which reflects highly on your character. Huzzah, good sir. Huzzah.
Second, any pizza I order will be male. None of this “Our pizza identifies as trans-fluid-pan-poly”—no. Pizza is a boy. With a penis. It’s that simple. It’s been true for all of human history, from Plato to Socrates to Mr. Mistoffelees, and any attempt to rewrite the pillars of Western thought will be met with a hearty “Fuh!” by yours truly. And, trust me, that is not a fate you wish to meet.
Now. With regard to my topping preference. I have eaten from your pizzeria in times past, and it must be said: your pepperoni is embarrassingly spicy. Frankly, it boggles the mind. I mean, what kind of drugs are you inhaling over there? Pot?! One bite of that stuff and I had to take a shower. So tread lightly when it comes to spice, my good man. You do not want to see me at my most epic. Like the great white hero of Zack Snyder’s classic film “300,” I will kick you.
Onions, peppers—no, thank you. If I wanted veggies, I’d go to a salad bar. I’m not some sort of vegan, Cory Booker weirdo. And your efforts to Michelle Obama-ize the great American pizza pie are, frankly, hilarious. Though not as funny as the impressively named P’Zone—when I finally figured out that genuinely creative pun, I laughed until I cried and peed. A true Spartan admits defeat, and I must admit that, in this instance, your Hut humor slayed me, Dennis Miller style.
And, with that, you have earned my order. Congratulations. Ahem. Without further ado, I would like your smallest child pizza, no sauce, extra cheese. Hello? Aha. A hang-up. Another triggered lib, bested by logic. Damn it. I’m fucking starving.