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What the heck did you just flipping say about me, you big meanie? I'll have you know I graduated top of my class in the Tiny Tots Program, and I've been involved in numerous secret raids on the girl's bathroom, and I have over 300 confirmed noogies. I am trained in Nerf warfare and I have the most gold stars in the entire kindergarten class. You are nothing to me but just another butthead. I will beat you the heck up with precision the likes of which has never been seen before on this Earth, mark my dang words. You think you can get away with saying that baloney to me on the glowy type-box? Think again, doodiehead. As we speak I am contacting my secret network of teachers across the USA and your parents are being called to pick you up right now so you better prepare for the spanking, junior. The spanking that wipes out the dumb little thing you call your playtime. You're in big darn trouble, kid. I can be anywhere, anytime, and I can wedgie you in over seven hundred ways, and that's just with my bare hands. Not only am I extensively trained in unarmed fartfights, but I have access to the entire arsenal of the United States PTA and I will use it to its full extent to wipe your dorky bottom off the face of the playground, you little poopypants. If only you could have known what serious punishments your little "smartypants" comment was about to bring down upon you, maybe you would have held your goshdarned tongue. But you couldn't, you didn't, and now you're paying the price, you silly doofus. I will spray boogers all over you and you will cry about it. You're frickin grounded, buttmunch...

K? K what? The letter before L? The letter after J? Did you know that in JK the K stands for “kidding?” So your reply is “kidding?” or K as in Potassium? Do you need some Special K for breakfast? K as in I can K/O you? Can I knock you out and feed you to hungry sharks? Sharks have a K in it. "K"? Are you fucking kidding me? I spent a decent portion of my life writing all of that and your response to me is "K"? Are you so mentally handicapped that the only letter you can comprehend is "K" - or are you just some fucking asshole who thinks that with such a short response, he can make a statement about how meaningless what was written was? Well, I'll have you know that what I wrote was NOT meaningless, in fact, I even had my written work proof-read by several professors of literature. Don't believe me? I doubt you would, and your response to this will probably be "K" once again. Do I give a fuck? No, does it look like I give even the slightest fuck about a single letter? I bet you took the time to type that one letter too, I bet you sat there and chuckled to yourself for 20 hearty seconds before pressing "send". You're so fucking pathetic. I'm honestly considering directing you to a psychiatrist, but I'm simply far too nice to do something like that. You, however, will go out of your way to make a fool out of someone by responding to a well-thought-out, intelligent, or humorous statement that probably took longer to write than you can last in bed with a chimpanzee. What do I have to say to you? Absolutely nothing. I couldn't be bothered to respond to such a worthless attempt at a response. Do you want "K" on your gravestone? Do you want people to remember you as the asshat who one day decided to respond to someone with a single letter? "Hey, look, everybody! It's that "K" guy!" That's who you are. You're going to be known as the "K" guy. How does it feel? Do you feel happy? Quite honestly, I don't care, which is why I'm not even going to respond to you. Goodbye, and good luck with your future as that guy who said "K".

AITA for slapping a stand-up comedian who dissed my wife? Okay, little background. My (53M) wife (50F) has a medical condition called Alopeca Areata, which basically means she has excessive hair loss, and is currently bald. My relationship with my wife wasn't stable over the years, and I've caught her cheating on me multiple times, but we've pulled through. Anyway, we went to an awards show and usually there is a comedian who hosts the show and makes jokes at everybody (in a good way). The comedian was a guy we know (and he knew us), and we had a really good time. At one point, he mentioned me and my wife and I was happy he acknowledged us. But then, he took a jab at my wife about her condition, which I thought was way out of line, but I laughed out of embarrassment. My wife, on the other hand, was not laughing at all and rolled her eyes. At that moment I knew I had to stand up for her. I got up on stage, smacked the sh*t out of the guy, and went back to my seat. The comedian was shocked and really wasn't expecting my reaction. He wanted to keep talking about my wife but I shouted at him to stop. Usually I don't curse, but I was really pissed about the whole situation. My friends could see I was upset and during the break they came to comfort me, but other people think I'm the asshole. What do you think?

A Bow Gnar is a physiological phenomenon in which the Gnar at full Mana becomes firm with extra Armor, engorged with HP, and enlarged. Bow Gnar is the result of a complex interaction of psychological, neural, vascular, and endocrine factors, and is often associated with shapeshifter's bestialities, although Bow Gnar can also be spontaneous. The shape, angle, and direction of a Bow Gnar varies considerably between players.

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.

Bi God’s bons, hwat didest thou seien of min, thou litel cunte? Thou shalt knouen ich was gradūāten best in min classe in soldierie, and ich was in mani-fold skekeries on the Frenshe men, and I hawe more than thre hundred slaghs that ben verried. Ich am expertful in mancowe militaunce, and ich am the best longe-boue archer in all the Englisch hoste. Thou are nout to min but a newe marke. Ich wille thee sottili renden, semble-wise was neverte beholden; par fei! Thou think thou canst afforthe to speken that shite ouer the “Internet”? Think-agen, churl! as we speken nou, ich am spēking wit minen aspīeris in all of Engellonde, and thin estre bith spīen aboute noue, thus thou shalt fore-dighten before the storm, maddok! The storm that wille shenden that spītǒus frivōl thou namest “thine lif”. Thou art ded, childe. Ich can ben ought-wher, ought-tym, and ich can slen thou with ouer seven hundred methodes, and all bar-handed! Ich am not only expertful in bar-handed baratri, but ich haue infare to the pleine armurie of the host of engelonde, and ich wille emploien hit for slen thine spitous arse, mandrake mymmerkin. If only thou cǒuthest hauen knouen what unblessed pūnīciǒun thine littel “gleu” glose was about to cause, parchaunce thou hauen holden thine tǒng stille. But thou cǒuthest nout, thou didest nout, and now thou paien for hit, thou simpleton. Ich wille casten oute furour upon thee, and thou wille senchen in hit. Thou art utterly ded, mannikin.

Recently, I’ve been wondering if I might be a gay. It all started a week ago. I was sitting on the toilet, pooping, when all of a sudden, a big shit turd comes out of my ass. It was huge. Big big. It’s so fucking big, I gotta look down into the toilet to check for blood. No blood, but the turd is fucking massive. I notice something strange about it. The end of the turd, sticking out of the water, looks like a dick head. A penis head. Needless to say, I was concerned. How could this be? I picked it up from the water, and put it back up my ass. To my surprise, it felt good. I then shit it back into the water. Splash. I then repeated this a few more times, moaning out “Oscar Winning actor Anthony Hopkins” each time. I am not sure if I am now gay. My boyfriend says it’s completely normal, but he’s gay, so I can’t trust him.

He was sleeping soundly naked, and I was eating leftover sushi. I couldn't help myself. I spread open his cheeks ever so softly, and tucked a slice of Philly roll right next to his puckered asshole. He did not wake up. When he awoke several hours later, he thought he had shit himself. I managed to video him discovering it was in his asshole, and I cannot stop watching him dig salmon, cream cheese, and rice out of his butthole. I also cannot stop laughing. I needed to tell someone.