I, an atheist, accidentally said “oh my g*d” instead of “oh my science”
You read the title, I just cannot believe I said the “g” word on accident. Am I even an atheist anymore? I don’t like religion or anything but like maybe it infiltrated me and is manipulating me to say “oh my g*d” instead of “oh my science”. Please guys it wasn’t me, I didn’t mean it. I’m very disappointed in myself, I think I need to go to science camp or go to therapy. What if I’m secretly religious? what should I do? Is my foreskin going to fall off?? Please can someone give me advice, any advice is appreciated.
Best regards,
-an atheist(?)
I used to be a real ad
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Booba
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Pepe
Chat analyses Kripp's painting
twitchquotes:
I honestly can't believe the idiocy of this chat sometimes. The green obviously represents Kripp's veganism, which is contrasted by the red below it, symbolizing animals and meat. The orange in the middle is a masterful representation of Kripp's balding spot, and the black strokes surrounding it are his attempts to hide it.
twitch chat
Kripp
Doraemon
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It's not gay with socks on
When I was 13 years old a buddy of mine tried to convince me to fool around. I wasn't into it, and he told me it's not gay if you're wearing socks. I didn't believe him, went home, and asked my dad.
That's 'gentleman's gay', hardly gay at all. Don't see it much these days.
The 50s were a different time. What were we to do? We were typical boarding school boys, rich with vigor, skin slick with drying sweat and gritty earth from a game of pigskin.
At night our young, virile bodies filled the dorm with sweet-musky vapors, like game-meat stewed with apple and peppercorn. You'd awake in darkness to the hushed, melodic rhythm of two pairs of white tube socks, barely visible in moonlight, bouncing on the hardwood floor.
The deep bond of male friendship played like a thousand different human instruments. The wet claps of skin on skin, the gentle thud of heads on backboards, frenzied cries in the throes of climax. Wilbur, so fat and soft like tapioca pudding. His breasts were so like the real thing, what we fantasized of our future wives. Unwilling, defenseless Wilbur, so slow and uncoordinated in the dark. 10 of us would glaze his bare, pink flesh like a giant raspberry danish. He once had the audacity to tell Headmaster Redford. But Redford was a Deerfield boy once, he understood. So he joined us on our midnight hog hunts.
Through college and years after we'd find time here and there, away from the wives at a family lake house. But it's been decades now - the times have certainly changed. If you wanted to do something private with another man, in your socks, it wasn’t ‘gay’. It was just two men, celebrating each other's strength.
Angry laughing crying
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