Being a Karen is low key awesome as hell. You get to have sweet ass chunky highlights and drive a big hideous SUV you secretly eat 3 donuts a day in and dont report to weight watchers. You can go to your jazzersize class absolutely fucked up on airplane bottles of rum and a perc you got from your friend who has back issues. Call your daughter a whore in front of her friends when she's 12 then pretend not to remember it when she brings it up deeply traumatized in her 20s. Fucking boss bitch shit straight up. Just blasting "dude looks like a lady" max volume flooring it to a target to cause a ruckus returning a bath mat. Not giving a single shit if its problematic. You like it that way. Making your dumbass kids apologize to YOU when you say racist shit. Getting zooted on your strawberry nosed husbands blood pressure meds. Hell yes queen fucking slay.
I used to be a real ad
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How to deal with unsportsmanlike player at chess club?
Theres a very unsportsmanlike player at our club who constantly taunts and belittles everyone else. Whenver you make a mistake he yells out "blunder!" or "inaccuracy!" ... "better move was..." and then says the engine move or what he thinks the engine move is. He also says what he thinks the engine +- is. He plays the kings gambit as much as he can and knows like 30 moves deep into every variation. If you respond something other than e5 to 1.e4 he just laughs and calls you a patzer.
He's also OBSESSED with Hikaru Nakamura. He talks about him all the time and shows everyone a picture of him with Hikaru (Its really blurry so its hard to tell if its even him). He's constantly talking about him as if he's a close friend even though he only (maybe?) met him one time. Its bordering on creepy and makes everyone uncomfortable. He calls him "Hikaru-San" which I think is part of his obsession with Japanese culture. He also brings japanese noodles/Ramen to the club every day and will spend like 5-10 minute eating them during his turn just to taunt you. Meanwhile he will be mumbling words in japanese.
We tried approaching about his conduct but he just did some weird anime villain laugh, yelled something in Japanese, then ran off to challenge another person to a blitz match. We obviously don't want to tell him not to come but it feels like his presence is deterring new people from joining and its also exhuasting.
Chess
Poggers
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Pepe
HBox’s tag actually has a secret meaning
twitchquotes:
fun fact: HBox’s tag actually has a secret meaning. the Box is for his name, Boxuel. the H stands for “Hjelte” since he plays with the heart of William Peter "Leffen" Hjelte every tourney
twitch chat
Super Smash Bros
TOTEMIC MIGHT
twitchquotes:
◥█̆◤ TOTEMIC MIGHT ◥█̆◤
twitch chat
Reynad
I finally did it. I out-pizza'd the Hut
I finally did it. I out-pizza'd the Hut. It was the greatest mistake of my life.
After years of perfecting my recipe, I made my way down to the local hut, fresh-baked pizza pie in hand. "Try this," I told the kid working the counter. He did, and he had to agree that it was better than anything Pizza Hut had to offer. Soon, the entire store, customers included, was feasting on my delicious pie. The manager walked over, grabbed a slice, and took a bite. I look at him, anticipation rising. This was the boss, the local fief lord of the Hut. His approval meant more to me than all the rest combined. He took a bite and nodded. "I'll be damned," he said, "you really did it. You out-pizza'd the Hut. Shame." Shame? What did he mean by tha- the manager pulled a gun out from behind his apron and shot the nearest customer in the head. "We have a Code Jalapeño," he said into his wrist as he executed the remaining customers. "I repeat, we have a Code Jalapeño." The ground was slick with blood. The kid working the counter choked out his dying breath as the manager turned to me. "You just had to do it motherfucker. You just had to out-pizza the Hut." He shoved the gun in my face. I was too scared to fight, too scared to run. The manager pulled the trigger.
A click. The gun was empty. I threw a chair at the manager and scrambled out of the Pizza Hut, not even bothering to see if my missile hit its mark. I was closely pursued by the manager, who had gotten his hands on a deadly sharp pizza cutter. I suspected in his hands it would cut more than pizza. Somehow, I was able to get into my car and speed off, the manager cursing my existence as I left him behind. I took a deep breath. The manager was clearly psychotic. Yes, that was it, just a crazy man with a gun. It had to be. My phone rang. Sister. I picked it. "They're dead, she sobbed. They're all dead. M-mom, dad, Chris, Bill. Dead. They killed them all." I could barely understand her, so great were her sobs. "What do you mean? Where are you?" I asked urgently. "How is this possi-" a single gunshot sounded through my phone's speakers. Silence. Then, I heard a man's voice. "No one out-pizzas the Hut." He hung up. I drove down the empty county road, mind blank. I had nothing. They killed my family. I was alone.
At that moment I knew what I had to do. They took everything from me. Well then, I would take everything from them. Pizza Hut was so terrified of being out-pizza'd, they forgot there's one thing worse than a man with a recipe: A man with nothing to lose. I'll give them a limited time offer they won't be able to refuse: two bullets for the price of one.
With a free side order of pain.