[Copypasta] When you clean your vacuum cleaner

twitchquotes: When you clean your vacuum cleaner, aren't you the vacuum cleaner? :thinking:
twitch chat
July 2018
I used to be a real ad
More Copypastas

G2

⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⣴⣦⡀⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⢀⣴⣷⡀⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄ ⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⣸⣿⣿⠁⠄⠄⢀⡀⠄⠄⠈⣿⣿⣇⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄ ⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⢻⣿⣷⢀⣠⣶⣿⣿⣶⣄⡀⣾⣿⡟⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄ ⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⣀⡈⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢁⣀⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄ ⠄⠄⠄⠐⠶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣌⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⣡⣿⣿⣿⣿⠶⠂⠄⠄⠄ ⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⣦⡬⢙⠛⠿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⠿⠛⡋⢥⣴⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄ ⠄⠄⠄⠄⢠⣿⣇⢸⣿⣷⣦⣍⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⣩⣴⢾⣿⡇⣸⣿⡄⠄⠄⠄⠄ ⠄⠄⠄⢀⣾⣿⣿⢸⣿⣟⠻⣿⣷⣦⡹⢏⣴⣾⣿⠏⢻⣿⡇⣿⣿⣷⡀⠄⠄⠄ ⠄⠄⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⢸⣿⣿⢀⡀⠹⣿⣷⣿⣿⠏⠵⣚⣾⣿⡇⣿⣿⣿⣷⣄⠄⠄ ⢴⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡈⣿⣿⡸⣿⣷⣶⣶⣶⣶⣖⣾⣿⣿⣿⢁⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡦ ⠈⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠸⣿⣧⡉⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠋⣩⣥⠆⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠁ ⠄⠄⠙⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⡙⣿⣷⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⣾⣿⢋⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠋⠄⠄ ⠄⠄⠄⠈⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣌⠻⣿⣿⡟⣿⣿⣿⡿⣡⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠁⠄⠄⠄ ⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠈⠻⡿⠃⣿⣿⣷⣌⠻⡇⣿⠟⣩⣾⣿⣿⠘⢿⠟⠁⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄ ⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠈⠻⣿⣿⣷⣦⣴⣾⣿⣿⠟⠁⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄ ⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⢈⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⡁⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄⠄
August 2020

Where i grew up copy pasta was taken seriously

twitchquotes: Dear Twitch Chat users. Do u think its funny to copy pasta everything you see? Copy that, pasta that. Where i grew up copy pasta was taken seriously, and when i come here my mind explodes. Please, respect copy pasta. For me, it's about religion.
twitch chat
April 2015
imaqtpie

Copyright Infringement from using Copy Pastas

twitchquotes: Hello, my name is Juan Pastoroni, CEO of Copy Pasta Industries. I'd like to let you know that we've just gained copyrights on a lot of copy pastas seen in this chat. If you are using them right now, please refrain from doing so, or risk being fined under copyright infringement. Thank you, and don't be funny and copy and paste this. This is business, kid.
twitch chat
July 2014
pr0lly

get teh tazer

twitchquotes: (▀̿Ĺ̯▀̿ ̿) RESISTING ARREST - Get the Tazer (▀̿Ĺ̯▀̿ ̿)
twitch chat
November 2014
Kripp

It's not gay with socks on

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.
August 2021
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