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[Copypasta]Oops I dropped my CONGA LINE
twitchquotes:Oops I dropped my CONGA LINE 🏃🚶 💃🏃🚶💃🏃🚶 CONGA LINE 💃🏃🚶💃🏃🚶💃🏃🚶💃🏃🚶 💃🏃🚶💃🏃🚶 CONGA LINE 💃🏃🚶💃🏃🚶💃🏃🚶💃🏃🚶 💃🏃🚶💃🏃🚶 CONGA LINE 💃🏃🚶💃🏃🚶💃🏃🚶💃🏃🚶 💃🏃🚶💃🏃🚶 CONGA LINE 💃🏃🚶💃🏃🚶💃🏃🚶
Oops I dropped my CONGA LINE 🏃🚶 💃🏃🚶💃🏃🚶 CONGA LINE 💃🏃🚶💃🏃🚶💃🏃🚶💃🏃🚶 💃🏃🚶💃🏃🚶 CONGA LINE 💃🏃🚶💃🏃🚶💃🏃🚶💃🏃🚶 💃🏃🚶💃🏃🚶 CONGA LINE 💃🏃🚶💃🏃🚶💃🏃🚶💃🏃🚶 💃🏃🚶💃🏃🚶 CONGA LINE 💃🏃🚶💃🏃🚶💃🏃🚶
What if I'm already fucking myself? Behind this simple insult hides a universal paradox that may put your sexuality in question. Let's do a simple thought experiment: imagine us two standing in front of each other. I, of course, am wearing a pair of jeans, that are covering my genitals and my butt. You then command me to "go fuck myself". I may be fucking myself already. I may as well not be fucking myself already. Until my dick and its position relative to my ass is observed, it is simultaneously in my ass, but also outside of it - thus, it stays in superposition. The moment you lay eyes on my penis, both states collide with each other and become either one. You may have already guessed what the problem here is. As soon as a single photon reflected by my dick enters either one of your eyes, you become gay. The only way to avoid this is to not observe my penis. But if you don't look at it, then you will never know if your insult had any effect, thus rendering it meaningless. Since you have already made the insult, you are now, too, in superposition - you're either wrong, or gay. It's unfortunate, really - you dug a hole for yourself without even knowing it. All you can do now is accept it, and learn from your mistakes.
What if I'm already fucking myself? Behind this simple insult hides a universal paradox that may put your sexuality in question. Let's do a simple thought experiment: imagine us two standing in front of each other. I, of course, am wearing a pair of jeans, that are covering my genitals and my butt. You then command me to "go fuck myself". I may be fucking myself already. I may as well not be fucking myself already. Until my dick and its position relative to my ass is observed, it is simultaneously in my ass, but also outside of it - thus, it stays in superposition. The moment you lay eyes on my penis, both states collide with each other and become either one. You may have already guessed what the problem here is. As soon as a single photon reflected by my dick enters either one of your eyes, you become gay. The only way to avoid this is to not observe my penis. But if you don't look at it, then you will never know if your insult had any effect, thus rendering it meaningless. Since you have already made the insult, you are now, too, in superposition - you're either wrong, or gay. It's unfortunate, really - you dug a hole for yourself without even knowing it. All you can do now is accept it, and learn from your mistakes.
My daughter was born with a hearing impairment
twitchquotes:My daughter was born with a hearing impairment than ultimately left her deaf shortly after birth. I have been working for years to pay for a new surgery that would allow her to hear again. Today was her 8th birthday and I managed to get her what she's always wanted for her birthday, the sense of hearing. I decided to let her listen in on what Daddy has been watching late at night and I turn on your stream and what do I hear? Silence. Now she's crying thinking she's deaf again, Nice job Kripp.
My daughter was born with a hearing impairment than ultimately left her deaf shortly after birth. I have been working for years to pay for a new surgery that would allow her to hear again. Today was her 8th birthday and I managed to get her what she's always wanted for her birthday, the sense of hearing. I decided to let her listen in on what Daddy has been watching late at night and I turn on your stream and what do I hear? Silence. Now she's crying thinking she's deaf again, Nice job Kripp.
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."
