Only the TheTick chosen one can wear the the tick antenna like a man TriHard . Can you give another person the antenna TheTick liek this or cry like a little baby scrub WAAAHH. ? But BabyRage wait! , 2 TheTick antennas are for pussies , Chosen One stacking PogChamp master can do 3 . No no no no TheTick another bro can stack 4 of it ALL AT ONCE WHAT A Jebaited GOD ! The real chosen one is always me .
I used to be a real ad
More Copypastas
Trump gave Katie Kripp's MITHRIL ARMOR
twitchquotes:Hello "Kripp" ...or should I say COCKTAVIAN. Guess who? YEAH. It's KATIE. From HIGH SCHOOL. Ever since you left me to play this stupid game, me and Trump have decided to continue playing Runescape WITHOUT YOU. And guess what? He gave me your MITHRIL ARMOR. Have fun playing this stupid card game, JERK!.
Hello "Kripp" ...or should I say COCKTAVIAN. Guess who? YEAH. It's KATIE. From HIGH SCHOOL. Ever since you left me to play this stupid game, me and Trump have decided to continue playing Runescape WITHOUT YOU. And guess what? He gave me your MITHRIL ARMOR. Have fun playing this stupid card game, JERK!.
Rania came to the wrong dongerhood
twitchquotes:༼ ºل͟º༼ ºل͟º༼ ºل͟º ༽ºل͟º ༽ºل͟º ༽ YOU CAME TO THE WRONG DONGERHOOD, RANIA ༼ ºل͟º༼ ºل͟º༼ ºل͟º༼ ºل͟º ༽ºل͟º ༽ºل͟º ༽
༼ ºل͟º༼ ºل͟º༼ ºل͟º ༽ºل͟º ༽ºل͟º ༽ YOU CAME TO THE WRONG DONGERHOOD, RANIA ༼ ºل͟º༼ ºل͟º༼ ºل͟º༼ ºل͟º ༽ºل͟º ༽ºل͟º ༽
Lord Voldemort has infiltrated the Dignitas house
twitchquotes:Michael, this is Dumbledore, Lord Voldemort has infiltrated the Dignitas house and killed Scarra. The legend says the one that carrys the mark of the donger on his forehead is destined to stop the dark lord. Please Michael avenge Scarra!
Michael, this is Dumbledore, Lord Voldemort has infiltrated the Dignitas house and killed Scarra. The legend says the one that carrys the mark of the donger on his forehead is destined to stop the dark lord. Please Michael avenge Scarra!
Paint me like one of your French grills.
twitchquotes:∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿ Paint me like one of your French grills.
∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿ Paint me like one of your French grills.
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."
I used to be a real ad