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What you guys have no Szechuan sauce? I WANT SZECHUAN SAUCE! WHERE'S MY SZECHUAN SAUCE??!! I'M PICKLE RICK!!!!!!!! WUBBALUBBADUBDUB!!!!!! I'M PICKLE RICK!!!! REEEEEEEEE!!!! REEEEE!!!! REEEEE!!!! IM PICKLE REEEEEEEEE!!!! REEEEEE!!!!! REEEEE!!!!!!

So I’m an AMC shareholder, which means I own some of the business. Because the stock kept getting halted today I decided to go to my local AMC and support the stock by buying some concessions. I went up to the stand and told the casher (his nametag said Melvin) that I was a shareholder and wanted to support the business. He looked excited and told me to close my eyes and hold out my hand for a surprise shareholder treat. I can’t believe it, but he just covered my hands in liquid butter! Now I’m typing this at home and cant get it off my hands, and my keyboard is all greasy typing this, What do I do?

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.

Anne frankly, I did nazi that coming. I literally came here to say this but boy, that escalated quickly so to the top with you! Lost it at 'This is why we can't have nice things' and then my faith in humanity was restored, my mind blown, and manly tears were shed. Well said. As a 'murican, I can confirm this gem has just won the internet and is doing it right. Just sayin', I know that feel, bro, and while that was a risky click, this post was a 9/10, 11/10 with rice, would read again. I see what you did there and it feels good man. You're doing God's work, son. I laughed way harder than I should have at your list that seems legit and totally nailed it. You - I like you. You magnificent bastard; you, sir, are so brave, a gentleman and a scholar, and seeing how you are a redditor for 4 years, this checks out, so I'll allow it. I regret that I only have one upvote to give for this cool story, bro. CTRL+F "about tree fiddy" was not disappointed. Wait, why do I have you tagged as "NOPE NOPE NOPE"? Nice try, you monster. You are now banned from /r/pyongyang What did I just read? Dafuq? I read that as "YOU HAD ONE JOB". I can't fap to this. No true scotsman could see that this relevant XKCD was bad, and you should feel bad. You must be new to reddit, so I'll see your cakeday and raise you a karma train. One does not simply rustle my jimmies, not even once. Jet fuel can't melt dank memes, that stahp gave me cancer for science, so that's enough internet for me today. OP is a fuzzy little man-peach, 2/10, would not bang. What is this I don't even know how is this wtf? Fuck Jenny. Circlejerk must be leaking. This will get buried but brace yourselves, some men want to watch the world burn right in the feels. When you see it, they'll KILL IT WITH FIRE! But this has nothing to do with atheism. Lawyer up, delete facebook, hit the gym, and SHUT UP AND TAKE MY MONEY, said no one ever, so you wouldn't download a strawman. /r/dadjokes. Damn onions, you scary like a BOSS. whoosh. Since rule #1 is 'be attractive', I'll just leave this here: This is my [f]irst post, be gentle. Edit: This blew up. RIP my inbox. Edit: thanks for the gold kind stranger

When I was 13 years old a buddy of mine tried to convince me to fool around. I wasn't into it, and he told me it's not gay if you're wearing socks. I didn't believe him, went home, and asked my dad. That's 'gentleman's gay', hardly gay at all. Don't see it much these days. The 50s were a different time. What were we to do? We were typical boarding school boys, rich with vigor, skin slick with drying sweat and gritty earth from a game of pigskin. At night our young, virile bodies filled the dorm with sweet-musky vapors, like game-meat stewed with apple and peppercorn. You'd awake in darkness to the hushed, melodic rhythm of two pairs of white tube socks, barely visible in moonlight, bouncing on the hardwood floor. The deep bond of male friendship played like a thousand different human instruments. The wet claps of skin on skin, the gentle thud of heads on backboards, frenzied cries in the throes of climax. Wilbur, so fat and soft like tapioca pudding. His breasts were so like the real thing, what we fantasized of our future wives. Unwilling, defenseless Wilbur, so slow and uncoordinated in the dark. 10 of us would glaze his bare, pink flesh like a giant raspberry danish. He once had the audacity to tell Headmaster Redford. But Redford was a Deerfield boy once, he understood. So he joined us on our midnight hog hunts. Through college and years after we'd find time here and there, away from the wives at a family lake house. But it's been decades now - the times have certainly changed. If you wanted to do something private with another man, in your socks, it wasn’t ‘gay’. It was just two men, celebrating each other's strength.