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[Copypasta]it's okay take monday off
twitchquotes:It's ok [insert streamer name], take off monday, tuesday, wednesday, thursday, friday, saturday, sunday, january, february, march, april, may, june, july, august, september, october, november, december. 2020, 2021, 2022, 2023, 2023, 21st century, 22nd century, 23rd century off. you work too hard.
It's ok [insert streamer name], take off monday, tuesday, wednesday, thursday, friday, saturday, sunday, january, february, march, april, may, june, july, august, september, october, november, december. 2020, 2021, 2022, 2023, 2023, 21st century, 22nd century, 23rd century off. you work too hard. :)
I used to be a real ad
More Copypastas
Canadian man brofisting the local Greek population
twitchquotes:Last night in Greece, Greek police heard reports of a Canadian man in a blue tacky sweater walking around the streets at night, 'brofisting' the local population. As a result 20,000 greek citizens have contracted the casualitis. If you see this man, please report to greek policerino department.
Last night in Greece, Greek police heard reports of a Canadian man in a blue tacky sweater walking around the streets at night, 'brofisting' the local population. As a result 20,000 greek citizens have contracted the casualitis. If you see this man, please report to greek policerino department.
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.
RNGesus who art in Hearthstone
twitchquotes:RNGesus who art in Hearthstone, Random be thy game. Thy random come, Thy turn be done, on Azeroth as it is in Hearthstone. Give us this day our daily quest, and forgive us our misplays, as we forgive those who queue as hunter and lead us not into fatigue but deliver us from zero. For thine is the random, and the mulligan, and the topdeck, always yet never, Ameno.
RNGesus who art in Hearthstone, Random be thy game. Thy random come, Thy turn be done, on Azeroth as it is in Hearthstone. Give us this day our daily quest, and forgive us our misplays, as we forgive those who queue as hunter and lead us not into fatigue but deliver us from zero. For thine is the random, and the mulligan, and the topdeck, always yet never, Ameno.
I can't fucking believe this. Pink from 'Among Us' ruined my marriage.
I can't fucking believe this. Pink from 'Among Us' ruined my marriage.
A couple months ago, my wife said she was going out for a ladies' night. She asked me to take care of my son, so I immediately obliged. "Yes Ma'am," I told her. After a while of waiting, she finally left and I could play my favourite game, Among Us. I hopped on my laptop, booted it up and my desktop loaded, complete with the 'Red Sus' background and all my Among Us Impostor fan-art. I was shaking in excitement. I slowly dragged my finger across the track pad, and watched the cursor as it glided over to the Among Us icon. Among Us. My absolute favourite game of all time and quite possibly the best and most well-made game in the entire world. As I clicked the button my body twitched with joy at the thought of being the impostor again. My fingers drummed impatiently on my desk as the Innersloth logo faded in, and then out. Then the main title appeared. I immediately looked at pink as she slowly floated across the screen. Oh, how I wish I could feel those luscious, soft asscheeks. Pink is my queen. The real woman in my life. My wife could never be as sexy as Pink is; her soft footfalls in electrical as I peek at her curvy form from inside a vent, waiting for the right time to strike. I could never get close to Pink, however, as if she had some kind of sixth sense, she would always leave before I could reveal myself to her as the impostor. I press Practice, to warm up my fingers before my first intense game of Among Us. I hit Blue in Comms, then cross the hall and vent to Specimen, murdering Green in cold blood. The thrill of killing an animated character in an online game has never been such a rush. I then move towards Reactor, stabbing Yellow in the back and then running down the corridor to the right to access Decontamination. I move quietly through the halls, like a snake about to strike its prey, and I see- Oh no. It's Pink. Standing there motionlessly as I face her directly. Her visor shows no emotion. But she knows. I can feel it in the air. I can't kill her. She is too beautiful, too angelic, the light reflecting off of her pink bodysuit, like stars on a voided sky. She doesn't run. I am moved to tears as I caress the screen, kissing it tenderly. "Goodbye, Pink. See you soon. It will all be okay," I whisper in a soft, reassuring voice. Then as my cursor hovers over the kill button, I hesitate. Thoughts of love go through my head. Red having reddish-pink sus children with Pink. But I have to. As the impostor, it is my duty to kill. I press the 'Kill' button and watch as my character beheads Pink silently. All I hear is the spurt of blood. There is no rush. There is only Red, standing by himself in Fuel. Pink's lifeless body laying on the floor beside him. I feel nothing at first, then immense sadness, like I'm at a loved one's funeral. My son knocks on the door, interrupting my brief moment of mourning. He asks, "Dad? Are you going to make me a snack?" I tell him to shut up, and my voice cracks. I break down sobbing. I killed her. I killed my one true love. God, forgive me. I open the door to my son, and he has a confused look on his face. I say nothing, and walk to the kitchen to make him a sandwich. Tears roll off my face into the bread as I lay it onto the counter. Lettuce, cheese and meat, followed by a sad swirl of mustard on top. My son is quiet. He sits on the couch, and stares at the floor. There is a depressing air around us. I serve him the sandwich and walk back to my room, contemplating life. If I killed Pink, how am I to be trusted around my family? I cry for hours, and finally my wife comes back. She sees me bawling on the bed like a child who dropped his ice cream. She then asks me why I'm crying and mutter, "I killed her. I killed my only love, Pink, in Among Us." She is filled with rage and slaps me across my face. I feel numb. She asks for a divorce. I don't reply. Instead, I take my laptop and get into my car, driving to a nearby hotel. Fast forward a few months to the divorce. It was quick and painless. After court, I ask my former wife to take me back.
"I can't take you back. You've always been this way. I was sus of you from the start."
Edit: Found this on steam, in the Among Us reviews section.
I can't fucking believe this. Pink from 'Among Us' ruined my marriage.
A couple months ago, my wife said she was going out for a ladies' night. She asked me to take care of my son, so I immediately obliged. "Yes Ma'am," I told her. After a while of waiting, she finally left and I could play my favourite game, Among Us. I hopped on my laptop, booted it up and my desktop loaded, complete with the 'Red Sus' background and all my Among Us Impostor fan-art. I was shaking in excitement. I slowly dragged my finger across the track pad, and watched the cursor as it glided over to the Among Us icon. Among Us. My absolute favourite game of all time and quite possibly the best and most well-made game in the entire world. As I clicked the button my body twitched with joy at the thought of being the impostor again. My fingers drummed impatiently on my desk as the Innersloth logo faded in, and then out. Then the main title appeared. I immediately looked at pink as she slowly floated across the screen. Oh, how I wish I could feel those luscious, soft asscheeks. Pink is my queen. The real woman in my life. My wife could never be as sexy as Pink is; her soft footfalls in electrical as I peek at her curvy form from inside a vent, waiting for the right time to strike. I could never get close to Pink, however, as if she had some kind of sixth sense, she would always leave before I could reveal myself to her as the impostor. I press Practice, to warm up my fingers before my first intense game of Among Us. I hit Blue in Comms, then cross the hall and vent to Specimen, murdering Green in cold blood. The thrill of killing an animated character in an online game has never been such a rush. I then move towards Reactor, stabbing Yellow in the back and then running down the corridor to the right to access Decontamination. I move quietly through the halls, like a snake about to strike its prey, and I see- Oh no. It's Pink. Standing there motionlessly as I face her directly. Her visor shows no emotion. But she knows. I can feel it in the air. I can't kill her. She is too beautiful, too angelic, the light reflecting off of her pink bodysuit, like stars on a voided sky. She doesn't run. I am moved to tears as I caress the screen, kissing it tenderly. "Goodbye, Pink. See you soon. It will all be okay," I whisper in a soft, reassuring voice. Then as my cursor hovers over the kill button, I hesitate. Thoughts of love go through my head. Red having reddish-pink sus children with Pink. But I have to. As the impostor, it is my duty to kill. I press the 'Kill' button and watch as my character beheads Pink silently. All I hear is the spurt of blood. There is no rush. There is only Red, standing by himself in Fuel. Pink's lifeless body laying on the floor beside him. I feel nothing at first, then immense sadness, like I'm at a loved one's funeral. My son knocks on the door, interrupting my brief moment of mourning. He asks, "Dad? Are you going to make me a snack?" I tell him to shut up, and my voice cracks. I break down sobbing. I killed her. I killed my one true love. God, forgive me. I open the door to my son, and he has a confused look on his face. I say nothing, and walk to the kitchen to make him a sandwich. Tears roll off my face into the bread as I lay it onto the counter. Lettuce, cheese and meat, followed by a sad swirl of mustard on top. My son is quiet. He sits on the couch, and stares at the floor. There is a depressing air around us. I serve him the sandwich and walk back to my room, contemplating life. If I killed Pink, how am I to be trusted around my family? I cry for hours, and finally my wife comes back. She sees me bawling on the bed like a child who dropped his ice cream. She then asks me why I'm crying and mutter, "I killed her. I killed my only love, Pink, in Among Us." She is filled with rage and slaps me across my face. I feel numb. She asks for a divorce. I don't reply. Instead, I take my laptop and get into my car, driving to a nearby hotel. Fast forward a few months to the divorce. It was quick and painless. After court, I ask my former wife to take me back.
"I can't take you back. You've always been this way. I was sus of you from the start."
Edit: Found this on steam, in the Among Us reviews section.
AITA for not telling my wife about all the hitchhikers I killed in the 70s?
Back when I (68M) was a young and dumb twenty-something, I spent a few carefree years in Southern California raping, torturing, and murdering hitchhikers. I don't want any judgement from SJWs about this, please, if you didn't live in Cali in the 1970s, you wouldn't understand. It was just what we did back in those days. Eventually I grew up, got married, had three beautiful kids, and was content to just get off to my trophies and polaroids, and maybe kill the occasional drifter on special occasions.
The other day, my wife (37F) found the hidden panel in my basement wall where I keep all the old memories, and she went ballistic. I tried to calm her down, explained that, firstly, they were all dudes, so she shouldn't exactly be getting jealous. Second, they're all dead, so it's not like she's going to have to worry about me leaving her for any of them. Third, there were like three or four other guys doing the same thing around then, and they took the credit for most of my kills. I was very careful, covered my tracks, rarely finished inside them. I don't know why she's got her knickers in such a twist.
Quite frankly, I'm feeling really hurt about the whole thing. We've been together for nearly thirty years, and she's thinking about leaving me over something like this? Maybe I should have been more honest, but I was raised to see this as men's business, not something you involve your old lady in.
Am I the asshole?
Back when I (68M) was a young and dumb twenty-something, I spent a few carefree years in Southern California raping, torturing, and murdering hitchhikers. I don't want any judgement from SJWs about this, please, if you didn't live in Cali in the 1970s, you wouldn't understand. It was just what we did back in those days. Eventually I grew up, got married, had three beautiful kids, and was content to just get off to my trophies and polaroids, and maybe kill the occasional drifter on special occasions.
The other day, my wife (37F) found the hidden panel in my basement wall where I keep all the old memories, and she went ballistic. I tried to calm her down, explained that, firstly, they were all dudes, so she shouldn't exactly be getting jealous. Second, they're all dead, so it's not like she's going to have to worry about me leaving her for any of them. Third, there were like three or four other guys doing the same thing around then, and they took the credit for most of my kills. I was very careful, covered my tracks, rarely finished inside them. I don't know why she's got her knickers in such a twist.
Quite frankly, I'm feeling really hurt about the whole thing. We've been together for nearly thirty years, and she's thinking about leaving me over something like this? Maybe I should have been more honest, but I was raised to see this as men's business, not something you involve your old lady in.
Am I the asshole?
