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[Copypasta]DONALD TRUMP NUDES
twitchquotes:IF 🇺🇸 YOU 🇺🇸 SEE 🇺🇸 A LINK 🇺🇸 THAT 🇺🇸 SAYS 🇺🇸 DONALD 🇺🇸 TRUMP 🇺🇸 NUDES 🇺🇸 DON’T 🇺🇸 CLICK 🇺🇸 ITS 🇺🇸 A 🇺🇸 VIRUS 🇺🇸 THAT 🇺🇸 PUTS 🇺🇸 AMERICAN 🇺🇸 FLAGS 🇺🇸 BETWEEN 🇺🇸 EVERY 🇺🇸 WORD 🇺🇸 YOU 🇺🇸 TYPE
IF 🇺🇸 YOU 🇺🇸 SEE 🇺🇸 A LINK 🇺🇸 THAT 🇺🇸 SAYS 🇺🇸 DONALD 🇺🇸 TRUMP 🇺🇸 NUDES 🇺🇸 DON’T 🇺🇸 CLICK 🇺🇸 ITS 🇺🇸 A 🇺🇸 VIRUS 🇺🇸 THAT 🇺🇸 PUTS 🇺🇸 AMERICAN 🇺🇸 FLAGS 🇺🇸 BETWEEN 🇺🇸 EVERY 🇺🇸 WORD 🇺🇸 YOU 🇺🇸 TYPE
I used to be a real ad
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Kripp gets married in a shack
twitchquotes:Rania: "why are you playing Diablo 3, Kripp? How can we afford Big Fat Greek Wedding with 5k Diablo viewers?" But the Kripp doesn't listen. He plays Diablo 3 and loses all his viewers and gets married in a shack.
Rania: "why are you playing Diablo 3, Kripp? How can we afford Big Fat Greek Wedding with 5k Diablo viewers?" But the Kripp doesn't listen. He plays Diablo 3 and loses all his viewers and gets married in a shack.
if u finish reading this monkaW
twitchquotes:Hey Byron, I noticed you like to run comps around Aurelion Sol and I went ahead and did the math on a level 3 Aurelion Sol with Spear of Shojin and Zeke's buff and it turns out that if you finish reading this everyone in chat will be dead in the next 5 minutes monkaW
Hey Byron, I noticed you like to run comps around Aurelion Sol and I went ahead and did the math on a level 3 Aurelion Sol with Spear of Shojin and Zeke's buff and it turns out that if you finish reading this everyone in chat will be dead in the next 5 minutes monkaW
Addicted to copy pasta
twitchquotes:Hey Kripp. You got me addicted to copy pasta you sick ***. I was 19 and on my way to my dream job when you first gave me a hit of this junk. Now I'm cappucino dongeringos in back-alleys just for another copy pasta. I'm chasing that first high and I'm scared I'll rip in pepperinos soon if I don't find help. Pls no crop a dingo pace the rhino my story.
Hey Kripp. You got me addicted to copy pasta you sick ***. I was 19 and on my way to my dream job when you first gave me a hit of this junk. Now I'm cappucino dongeringos in back-alleys just for another copy pasta. I'm chasing that first high and I'm scared I'll rip in pepperinos soon if I don't find help. Pls no crop a dingo pace the rhino my story.
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."