Mark, let me tell you something. Pay close attention to the text that I am about to write.
An average human body has about 38 trillion cells. In each of these cells there is a spiral helix of DNA that, if stretched to its maximum, is about two meters long. DNA is one of the densest stores of information on the planet: a single gram of DNA stores about 700 terabytes of information. If we stretched out the 76 trillion meters of DNA in my body and recorded, character by character, the word "Hate" over and over and over again, this pile of information could not store the tiniest fraction of a trillionth of the hatred that I feel for you right now. Every drop of blood in my body cries out for your death. My very soul writhes in disgust. Your mere existence is a blasphemy and an affront to every possible virtue and quality that any rational being can possess. You are a deception to Satan himself.
Mark, let me tell you something. Pay close attention to the text that I am about to write.
An average human body has about 38 trillion cells. In each of these cells there is a spiral helix of DNA that, if stretched to its maximum, is about two meters long. DNA is one of the densest stores of information on the planet: a single gram of DNA stores about 700 terabytes of information. If we stretched out the 76 trillion meters of DNA in my body and recorded, character by character, the word "Hate" over and over and over again, this pile of information could not store the tiniest fraction of a trillionth of the hatred that I feel for you right now. Every drop of blood in my body cries out for your death. My very soul writhes in disgust. Your mere existence is a blasphemy and an affront to every possible virtue and quality that any rational being can possess. You are a deception to Satan himself.
You just entered a world of hurt
twitchquotes:Hey you mothef**ker. You just entered a world of hurt. I just found my wifes texts to 'The Kripp', talking about dongers, topdicks, and salt. I don't know what kind of fetish *** you're into but you better find it somewhere else. I'm coming for you. If any of you retards copy paste this I'll get you too.
Hey you mothef**ker. You just entered a world of hurt. I just found my wifes texts to 'The Kripp', talking about dongers, topdicks, and salt. I don't know what kind of fetish *** you're into but you better find it somewhere else. I'm coming for you. If any of you retards copy paste this I'll get you too.
Kripp throws his paintbrush across the room
twitchquotes:Kripp throws his paintbrush across the room. "The canvas needed to topdeck exactly that color to win!" he yells. Dex brings Kripp his paintbrush and Kripp tries again. He tries to paint a happy tree but paints a sad cactus. "The canvas is obviously sniping. How else could it know I was painting a happy tree?" Dex barks. "Quiet, Dex!" screams Kripp as he paints the bottom right of the canvas and concedes.
Kripp throws his paintbrush across the room. "The canvas needed to topdeck exactly that color to win!" he yells. Dex brings Kripp his paintbrush and Kripp tries again. He tries to paint a happy tree but paints a sad cactus. "The canvas is obviously sniping. How else could it know I was painting a happy tree?" Dex barks. "Quiet, Dex!" screams Kripp as he paints the bottom right of the canvas and concedes.
Leffen's ego and pride is a hard obstacle
twitchquotes:don't get me wrong i love leffen he is the only smasher showing "conventional fighting game" players that there is more than auto combos/ light mid heavy combo's but ass far as us smash players are concernerd he doesn't know what he's talking about ego and pride is a hard obstacle to ovwercome
don't get me wrong i love leffen he is the only smasher showing "conventional fighting game" players that there is more than auto combos/ light mid heavy combo's but ass far as us smash players are concernerd he doesn't know what he's talking about ego and pride is a hard obstacle to ovwercome
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."