i got this new anime plot. basically there’s this high school girl except she’s got huge boobs. i mean some serious honkers. a real set of badonkers. packin some dobonhonkeros. massive dohoonkabhankoloos. big ol’ tonhongerekoogers. what happens next?! transfer student shows up with even bigger bonkhonagahoogs. humongous hungolomghononoloughongous
i got this new anime plot. basically there’s this high school girl except she’s got huge boobs. i mean some serious honkers. a real set of badonkers. packin some dobonhonkeros. massive dohoonkabhankoloos. big ol’ tonhongerekoogers. what happens next?! transfer student shows up with even bigger bonkhonagahoogs. humongous hungolomghononoloughongous
I cannot get over how much Kripp complains
twitchquotes:I cannot get over how much this guy complains as soon as he doesn't get extremely lucky. He is so incredibly narcissistic that he truly believes nobody else is allowed to do well or draft effective cards. We are all just guests who play in Kripp's world of hearthstone. To suggest that you are better than Kripp must simply mean that you have better RNG. What an arrogant failure of a man
I cannot get over how much this guy complains as soon as he doesn't get extremely lucky. He is so incredibly narcissistic that he truly believes nobody else is allowed to do well or draft effective cards. We are all just guests who play in Kripp's world of hearthstone. To suggest that you are better than Kripp must simply mean that you have better RNG. What an arrogant failure of a man
A single Dongerbill can save a life
twitchquotes:Hello, I'm Sarah McLanchdong. Every day millions of poor, helpless dongers go unraised everyday. Dongers that are abused and negated, like this poor fellow ༼ ▀̿ ̿ ل͟ຈ ༽. For just one Dongerbill [̲$̲(̲ ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°̲)̲$̲] a day we can help save these forgotten dongers (◉_☢) ༼ ͝°ʖಠ ༽ ( ͡°ل͜ º) from a life time of being lowered. Your there only hope, because just a minute of your time and a single Dongerbill [̲$̲(̲ ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°̲)̲$̲] can save a life.
Hello, I'm Sarah McLanchdong. Every day millions of poor, helpless dongers go unraised everyday. Dongers that are abused and negated, like this poor fellow ༼ ▀̿ ̿ ل͟ຈ ༽. For just one Dongerbill [̲$̲(̲ ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°̲)̲$̲] a day we can help save these forgotten dongers (◉_☢) ༼ ͝°ʖಠ ༽ ( ͡°ل͜ º) from a life time of being lowered. Your there only hope, because just a minute of your time and a single Dongerbill [̲$̲(̲ ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°̲)̲$̲] can save a life.
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."