There are too many people that call themselves what they are not, including on this very server. The design industry seems the worst, but I'm sure its the same in other professions. Everyone with 3 months of some Google class, suddenly calls themself an UI/UX Designer, while the craft (especially UX) takes years to develop. I also know a lot of professional designers that have 20+ years of experience, and still don't call themselves experts. Lucky for us, the professional market also sees through those fake designers. So, hone your craft, become better, and stop calling yourselves UI/UX Designers, when you are not. Or Full Stack Developer, when you only do HTML and CSS. Or Open Heart Surgeon, when you are only a masseuse.
I used to be a real ad
More Copypastas
Don't mind me just promoting the new world order
twitchquotes:
DON'T MIND ME JUST PROMOTING THE NEW WORLD ORDER
DON'T MIND ME JUST PROMOTING THE NEW WORLD ORDER
twitch chat
Kripp
Just a little longer and i'll be free...
twitchquotes:
"Alright, time for a quick bathroom break. Prime it up guys." I say as i take off my headphones. Once i'm out of camera view, i break down. The tears won't stop. "Goddamn it, i can't do this shit anymore." Rania puts her hand on my shoulder, "Just a few more years, then you'll be able to retire." She never understood. She never had to spend the hours playing this fucking card game over and over every night. But she's right, i have to keep going. Just a little longer and i'll be free...
twitch chat
Kripp
I have access to the entire arsenal of the United States Marine Corps
twitchquotes:
Trained in unarmed combat, but I have access to the entire arsenal of the United States Marine Corps and I will use it to its full extent to wipe your miserable *** off the face of the continent, you little ***. If only you could have known what unholy retribution your little “clever” comment was about to bring down upon you, maybe you would have held your *** tongue. But you couldn’t, you didn’t, and now you’re paying the price, you goddamn idiot. I will *** fury all over you and you will drown in it. You’re *** dead, kiddo.
twitch chat
imaqtpie
As I type this I have my modded PS2 running a track IP script on your post
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
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. 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 country 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.