Oh, these? My boobies? My massive fucking titties? My super stuffed milkies? My honker bonker doinky boinkies? My fucking fabric stretching wind flapping gravity welling sex mounds? You mean these super duper ultra hyper god damn motherfucking tits?
I used to be a real ad
More Copypastas
Dear Mr. Morosan, this is the Hellenic Ministry of Health
twitchquotes:
Dear Mr. Morosan, this is the Hellenic Ministry of Health. We have received reports of excessive 
production on your Twitch channel. You are a toxic individual and are hereby classified a Class A threat to national security. Please turn yourself in at the nearest 
station to be deported.
production on your Twitch channel. You are a toxic individual and are hereby classified a Class A threat to national security. Please turn yourself in at the nearest station to be deported.
twitch chat
Kripp
salty
If I see one more AYAYA
twitchquotes:
Hey guys, I'm really trying to fucking watch the fucking channel and you all fucking spam your fucking copypastas non-fucking-stop and it's getting really fucking annoying. If I see one more fucking AYAYA, monkAS, "Press 1 if", :), counting, dancing emotes, "Only the true champion can champ this pog", or worst of all LONG TEXT COPYPASTAS, I'm going to fucking sign up for the fucking mars mission you fucks.
twitch chat
I hate Twitch Chat
Does it look like I give a duck about your chat experience?
twitchquotes:
DOES IT LOOK LIKE I GIVE A DUCK ABOUT YOUR CHAT EXPERIENCE?
DOES IT LOOK LIKE I GIVE A DUCK ABOUT YOUR CHAT EXPERIENCE?
twitch chat
Classic
I'll do it. I'll stream Final Fantasy
twitchquotes:
Kripp is chained to the chair, sobbing as the man hacks at his face with a razor. He cries as the last bit of his beard is cut away, sapping him of his Romanian gypsy powers. "Please don't hurt her. I'll do whatever you want" says Kripp. The man with the razor laughs and says "Are you ready to accept the deal? Or do we need to hurt Pupparian?" Kripp shakes his head. "I'll do it. I'll stream Final Fantasy." 
twitch chat
Kripp
Stonks only go up. But you don't.
You watch her as she brushes her hair. She’s humming a song you can’t quite hear and smiling to herself. Not for the first time, you wonder why this person chose you.
She turns. “What do you want for Christmas?” You want to scream Save your money!, but you only shrug. “Nothing, really.”
“Nothing?” She crawls into bed and touches your leg. “Are you sure?” Again, you wonder why this person chose you.
As she takes the weight of you in her hand, your mind wanders. To your puts. They’ll expire worthless, like you. After several minutes of failing to conjure your manhood, she asks, “What’s wrong?”
Stonks only go up.
But you don’t.