[Copypasta] So me and my bros wanted to once and for all test the hypothesis that we are all living in a matrix.

So me and my bros wanted to once and for all test the hypothesis that we are all living in a matrix. We came to the conclusion that a matrix could only run so smoothly because of our predictable behaviour. For example, if you eat it is likely that you swallow your food. Therefore, the matrix would be ready to initiate a digestion program. But if a group of people did something unpredictable, the matrix would shut down. So what we did is we randomly started gang banging each other. The matrix could have never predicted that because that is like super gay. But nothing happened (matrix-wise). But this is not point why am I writing about this. My friends now want to do the gang-banging shit again and I am not sure how to respond to that.
December 2021
I used to be a real ad
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First off: I am not joking. I wish I was joking. I've been with my wonderful boyfriend Greg for over 4 years now, and this Christmas was our third spent together. He's so much fun to be around, handsome, charming, and our sex life is great. Except for one small problem. Every year now starting in December he starts referring to his cum as "Greggnog." When I first heard him say this, it was in the context of a joke, so I laughed, and then I forgot about it. A few days after this, we're exchanging some spicy texts before he gets home from work he says to me, in all seriousness, "I can't wait to pour Greggnog all over your face." I could not believe he just said that to me, but I didn't know what else to do at the time but go along with it. Fast forward to this December. This phrase re-enters his vocabulary at the same time every year. It makes me cringe beyond belief, but until this year he used it sparingly enough for me to just be able to laugh and say "shut the fuck up." I'm sure that 2020 has done at least some irreparable psychic damage to all people, but unfortunately, for my boyfriend, this has manifested in the form of him referring to his cum as "Greggnog" non-stop. This month he has been using the term almost exclusively, in all contexts, and it is driving me batshit insane. I sat him down to talk last week, and I asked him very clearly and directly to stop. At the time, he said he would, and it did slow down for a few days, but it is now four days after Christmas and he's back at it again with no end in sight. He absolutely means the world to me, and I saw myself spending the rest of my life with him, but I have serious doubts now whether or not I can if every Christmas is going to be like this. So please, reddit, what do I do to make this stop for good?
December 2020

Classic

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.
May 2021
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