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More Classic Copypastas
TSM aka "Tribe of Silver Monkeys"
twitchquotes:TSM, aka "Tribe of Silver Monkeys," is a team in Riot Games' Minor League that is often ridiculed for being washed-up and having an owner that looks like Wukong. It is specifically known for its obnoxious fanbase and mind-numbing throws.
TSM, aka "Tribe of Silver Monkeys," is a team in Riot Games' Minor League that is often ridiculed for being washed-up and having an owner that looks like Wukong. It is specifically known for its obnoxious fanbase and mind-numbing throws.
When you copy messages don't copy the name
twitchquotes:Jimmy_Swaggart: ForsenIsNeverLucky: DONT COPY THE NAME WHEN YOU COPY THE PASTA
Jimmy_Swaggart: ForsenIsNeverLucky: FailFish DONT COPY THE FailFish NAME WHEN YOU FailFish COPY THE PASTA FailFish
Pickpocket hot tip
twitchquotes:Hot tip: When someone yells pickpocket start searching for your wallet in the groin area and exclaim 'Thank God my wallet is safely tucked between my testicles'. The pickpocket will see this and assume that the wallet is there. These people usually have very supple and delicate hands so when they try to take your wallet you will instead get a pleasant fondling to your genital area.
Hot tip: When someone yells pickpocket start searching for your wallet in the groin area and exclaim 'Thank God my wallet is safely tucked between my testicles'. The pickpocket will see this and assume that the wallet is there. These people usually have very supple and delicate hands so when they try to take your wallet you will instead get a pleasant fondling to your genital area.
FeelsBadMan pyramid
twitchquotes: Only a true failure can fail to build a pyramid May as well not even bother And Still my pyramid sucks
FeelsBadMan Only a true failure can fail to build a pyramid FeelsBadMan FeelsBadMan May as well not even bother FeelsBadMan FeelsBadMan FeelsBadMan And Still my pyramid sucks
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."