You fucked up kid. As I type this I have my modded PS2 running a track IP script on your post. Once I have triangulated your position in the world, my PS3 will release to your router my very own Pandora box virus. You won't notice it at first, but soon your lame PC will begin to work against you in ways you can't even imagine. First your graphics card will start to emit the flu virus, your ram will be uploaded online so everyone will be able to use it, your motherboard will slowly secrete acidic resin which will fry the electronics. The processor will be fine, just to give you hope.
You will be left with a husk of a machine, all because you decided to critique my mental ability... was it worth it?
Not even your mummy can help you now fuck boy
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I awoke from my coma and muted the stream
twitchquotes:
I owe my life to [insert streamer]. I got in a horrible car crash and i was in 6 month coma. The nurse walked in and changed the Twitch channel to [insert streamer]'s stream. I awoke from my coma and muted [insert streamer].
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A single Dongerbill can save a life
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Hello, I'm Sarah McLanchdong. Every day millions of poor, helpless dongers go unraised everyday. Dongers that are abused and negated, like this poor fellow ༼ ▀̿ ̿ ل͟ຈ ༽. For just one Dongerbill [̲$̲(̲ ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°̲)̲$̲] a day we can help save these forgotten dongers (◉_☢) ༼ ͝°ʖಠ ༽ ( ͡°ل͜ º) from a life time of being lowered. Your there only hope, because just a minute of your time and a single Dongerbill [̲$̲(̲ ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°̲)̲$̲] can save a life.
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Years of research
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Yeah, I’m a smash player. Along with that I know many things that most don’t know about these communities. Melee isn’t part of the actual smash community and I’m not saying that because I don’t like them. I’m saying that based off of years of research.
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Super Smash Bros
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."
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"Based"? Are "Based"? Are you fucking kidding me?
"Based"? Are you fucking kidding me? I spent a decent portion of my life writing all of that and your response to me is "Based"? Are you so mentally handicapped that the only word you can comprehend is "Based" - or are you just some fucking asshole who thinks that with such a short response, he can make a statement about how meaningless what was written was? Well, I'll have you know that what I wrote was NOT meaningless, in fact, I even had my written work proof-read by several professors of literature. Don't believe me? I doubt you would, and your response to this will probably be "Based" once again. Do I give a fuck? No, does it look like I give even the slightest fuck about five fucking letters? I bet you took the time to type those five letters too, I bet you sat there and chuckled to yourself for 20 hearty seconds before pressing "send". You're so fucking pathetic. I'm honestly considering directing you to a psychiatrist, but I'm simply far too nice to do something like that. You, however, will go out of your way to make a fool out of someone by responding to a well-thought-out, intelligent, or humorous statement that probably took longer to write than you can last in bed with a chimpanzee. What do I have to say to you? Absolutely nothing. I couldn't be bothered to respond to such a worthless attempt at a response. Do you want "Based" on your gravestone?