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[Copypasta]Europe is the Eastern USA
twitchquotes:Europe was founded in 1848 by Walker Texas Ranger when he rode a horse across the Atlantic, he called it "Eastern USA" which was eventually abbreviated as just "EU"
Europe was founded in 1848 by Walker Texas Ranger when he rode a horse across the Atlantic, he called it "Eastern USA" which was eventually abbreviated as just "EU"
stroll into my local GameStop
looking to pick up a copy of Binding of Isaac
grab the game and take it to the charming maiden at the register
"Pardon me, milady...but could you ring me up? A shame I don't have your number or I'd ring you up instead..."
she giggles and takes the game, blushing as her fingers brush mine due to my fingerless gloves
her eyes widen as she reads the game's title
"Wow, I've never seen anyone buy this before! You must have special taste!"
I smile and ready a witty response when suddenly a voice rings out from behind
"Hahaha look at what this ♥♥♥♥♥♥ is buying! That's not Call of Duty Advanced Memefare! What a piece of ♥♥♥♥!"
I quickly turn around, my cloak billowing behind me, to discern the source of the rude outburst
generic dudebro caricature with a sports team cap and "the guy that beat you up that one time behind the school in early October" shirt is standing there guffawing
"Excuse me sir...you may disparage my person if you wish, but it is untoward to swear in front of a lady."
"♥♥♥♥ you ♥♥♥♥♥♥!"
I smile quietly and tip my fedora low across my eyes, concealing them
"As you wish..."
I quickly swing my cane into his kneecap before he can react
he bellows and charges forward
I expertly sidestep him and the cashier screams as he crashes into the counter
I draw my sword-cane and mutter a quiet oath as I drive it deep into his back
"...requiescat in pace..."
As I clean my blade the girl walks out from behind the counter, twirling her hair with her fingers
"So...maybe you'd like to come over to my place to play that game sometime...?
"No thanks, milady, it's only single player. Besides..."
I sheath my sword
"You're not my type."
skate away on my Heelys
stroll into my local GameStop
looking to pick up a copy of Binding of Isaac
grab the game and take it to the charming maiden at the register
"Pardon me, milady...but could you ring me up? A shame I don't have your number or I'd ring you up instead..."
she giggles and takes the game, blushing as her fingers brush mine due to my fingerless gloves
her eyes widen as she reads the game's title
"Wow, I've never seen anyone buy this before! You must have special taste!"
I smile and ready a witty response when suddenly a voice rings out from behind
"Hahaha look at what this ♥♥♥♥♥♥ is buying! That's not Call of Duty Advanced Memefare! What a piece of ♥♥♥♥!"
I quickly turn around, my cloak billowing behind me, to discern the source of the rude outburst
generic dudebro caricature with a sports team cap and "the guy that beat you up that one time behind the school in early October" shirt is standing there guffawing
"Excuse me sir...you may disparage my person if you wish, but it is untoward to swear in front of a lady."
"♥♥♥♥ you ♥♥♥♥♥♥!"
I smile quietly and tip my fedora low across my eyes, concealing them
"As you wish..."
I quickly swing my cane into his kneecap before he can react
he bellows and charges forward
I expertly sidestep him and the cashier screams as he crashes into the counter
I draw my sword-cane and mutter a quiet oath as I drive it deep into his back
"...requiescat in pace..."
As I clean my blade the girl walks out from behind the counter, twirling her hair with her fingers
"So...maybe you'd like to come over to my place to play that game sometime...?
"No thanks, milady, it's only single player. Besides..."
I sheath my sword
"You're not my type."
skate away on my Heelys
This is the world we have wrought
twitchquotes:The year is 2129; humans can only communicate through increasingly garbled copy-pasta. A man approaches and says "ire: ███ 10 stroke dick ff ☑ EKT ☾ ☆ ¸. ?" In confusion, I reply "AT ASCII ຈل͜ل͜ຈຈ༽༽ノノ HA ʙᴏʟᴀ ヽ༼ಢ_ ♌ ❛ั∗)◞ TUCK F (◡‿◡✿)". This is the world we have wrought.
The year is 2129; humans can only communicate through increasingly garbled copy-pasta. A man approaches and says "ire: ███ 10 stroke dick ff ☑ EKT ☾ ☆ ¸. ?" In confusion, I reply "AT ASCII ຈل͜ل͜ຈຈ༽༽ノノ HA ʙᴏʟᴀ ヽ༼ಢ_ ♌ ❛ั∗)◞ TUCK F (◡‿◡✿)". This is the world we have wrought.
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."
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."
HOTLINE MING
twitchquotes: I KNOW WHEN THAT HOTLINE MING THAT CAN ONLY MING ONE LEE YOU USED TO CALL ME ON MY CELLPHONE
MingLee I MingLee KNOW MingLee WHEN MingLee THAT MingLee HOTLINE MingLee MING MingLee THAT MingLee CAN MingLee ONLY MingLee MING MingLee ONE MingLee LEE MingLee YOU MingLee USED MingLee TO MingLee MingLee CALL MingLee ME MingLee ON MingLee MY MingLee CELLPHONE MingLee
I remember a time when copypasta was biting satire
twitchquotes:I remember a time when copypasta was biting satire and prophetic indictments of contemporary Twitch chat. Copypasta when I was a younger teenager had the potency to topple Nazi moderatorships and revolutionize new chat epochs. Even the truncation of "copypasta" to "pasta" shows a lack of eloquence that speaks volumes. If, like me, you are a product of those better times and wish to see them return then speak out. Let the memers and Toucans know that real copypasta back.
I remember a time when copypasta was biting satire and prophetic indictments of contemporary Twitch chat. Copypasta when I was a younger teenager had the potency to topple Nazi moderatorships and revolutionize new chat epochs. Even the truncation of "copypasta" to "pasta" shows a lack of eloquence that speaks volumes. If, like me, you are a product of those better times and wish to see them return then speak out. Let the memers and Toucans know that real copypasta back.