what the fuck is the point in correcting me. You think I don't know how to spell "your"? I shortened it to "ur" because I was eating chips and typing one handed and didn't want to bother with those 2 extra letters just to please a fucking lifeless fat neckbeard like you.
Stop thinking you're smart just because you can correct somebody's spelling, you seem like a total fucking idiot jackass and I'm ashamed and disappointed that on the internet where there are millions of comments and commentors, I was still stuck with a response written by somebody like you.
You obviously knew what I meant, it's not like I spelt "your" as "s;ldkfjs;dlfkj". Take your fucking dildo keyboard out your crusty ass and realize that maybe you have no friends and plans tonight because you're an unlikeable cumstain who repels everybody away like opposite poles on a magnet.
The next time you comment like a fucking moron, ask yourself "would I rather write this useless comment or would I rather clean my fucking act up and stop being a little shitter". My New Years resolution is to never have the misfortune of you coming across any more of my comments and throwing up your shitty insight at me.
What happened to this ad? :(
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Pondering through the house, looking for an adventure, the no longer small cat 'Smallcat' pondered upon this majestic and fabulous being, the one and only Imaqtpie. As qtpie conquered his opponent and screeched his victorious chant "AYYYYY LMAAOO", Smallcat consentingly nodded his head.
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AITA for not telling my wife about all the hitchhikers I killed in the 70s?
Back when I (68M) was a young and dumb twenty-something, I spent a few carefree years in Southern California raping, torturing, and murdering hitchhikers. I don't want any judgement from SJWs about this, please, if you didn't live in Cali in the 1970s, you wouldn't understand. It was just what we did back in those days. Eventually I grew up, got married, had three beautiful kids, and was content to just get off to my trophies and polaroids, and maybe kill the occasional drifter on special occasions.
The other day, my wife (37F) found the hidden panel in my basement wall where I keep all the old memories, and she went ballistic. I tried to calm her down, explained that, firstly, they were all dudes, so she shouldn't exactly be getting jealous. Second, they're all dead, so it's not like she's going to have to worry about me leaving her for any of them. Third, there were like three or four other guys doing the same thing around then, and they took the credit for most of my kills. I was very careful, covered my tracks, rarely finished inside them. I don't know why she's got her knickers in such a twist.
Quite frankly, I'm feeling really hurt about the whole thing. We've been together for nearly thirty years, and she's thinking about leaving me over something like this? Maybe I should have been more honest, but I was raised to see this as men's business, not something you involve your old lady in.
Am I the asshole?
AITA
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