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[Copypasta]DO A BACKFLIP
97%, of teenagers would cry if they saw Justin Bieber standing on top of a building about to jump. "If you are the 3% sitting there with popcorn, screaming "DO A BACKFLIP," Repost this.
97%, of teenagers would cry if they saw Justin Bieber standing on top of a building about to jump. "If you are the 3% sitting there with popcorn, screaming "DO A BACKFLIP," Repost this.
I used to be a real ad
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LS, aka "Low Standards"
twitchquotes:LS, aka "Low Standards", is a commentator for the LCK that is often ridiculed for his annoying personality and questionable game knowledge. He is specifically known for his Annie and Tahm “Thomas” Kench two-trick-pony in low platinum solo-queue..
LS, aka "Low Standards", is a commentator for the LCK that is often ridiculed for his annoying personality and questionable game knowledge. He is specifically known for his Annie and Tahm “Thomas” Kench two-trick-pony in low platinum solo-queue..
NA LOST TO CORONA
twitchquotes:NA LOST TO CORONA NA LOST TO POLICE BRUTALITY NA LCS IS SO BAD NA PRODUCTION IS THE WORST NA USING TEETH TO DEFEND THEMSELVES
NA LOST TO CORONA LUL NA LOST TO POLICE BRUTALITY LUL NA LCS IS SO BAD LUL NA PRODUCTION IS THE WORST LUL NA USING TEETH TO DEFEND THEMSELVES LUL
You will never be an anime girl
You will never be an anime girl. You have no ancestry, you have no weebship, you have no skills that would make neon Tokyo ever want you. You are a shut-in self-hating nerdy man twisted by delusions of mythical Katana superiority and exposure to media folded over 3000 times into a disgusting mockery of metalworkings perfection. All 'validation' you get from other people in this position couldn't be worse in making you believe that spending years of your life learning a the globally useless talents of Uwudo and Iya-giri to a 中二 level was a worthwhile 使い方 of お前's time, but one can't expect that an individual as 羞耻 as テメ will ever know the value of the 仲間 you threw away in doing that. Actual Sasukes are すごい キモい by you. Thousands of years of 自然進化 have allowed 侍 to identify 偽物語 from mannerisms and 言語力 alone. Even if your written text of self-hatred and attention begging akin to a 野良犬 somehow passes as normal (しないよ、ど阿呆), any Soul Eater person will immediately 両断 all 迷い when they 聞く the 声 and 広島-ben of someone who is not only a basic 下忍 at best, but worth no more than ゴミカス in skills, accomplishments, and no ワイフ yes フレンド. You will never be 幸せおちゃめ機能。 You wrench out a 偽笑い and www草 to yourself believing that watching a content creator that you understand 20% of at best is somehow superior than watching your own 船長, as you project your disgusting traits onto your 委員長. However, deep inside you feel the 不安 creeping up like a 桜, ready to crush you under the バスト2三一 Zz ガンダム, and you know that. You know that all you do now is have an entirely new リスナー in which to be 無視, and not even the exotic trait of being 海外ニッキ makes up for just how uninteresting of a 無言赤スパ you are. Eventually it’ll be too much to bear - you’ll buy a rope, tie a noose, put it around your neck, and plunge into the cold はあちゃま. Your ママ will find you, heartbroken but relieved that they no longer have to live with the unbearable 恥ざらし and ゴミカス死ね. They’ll bury you with a 妖怪 marked with your 領域展開, and every 上弦の鬼 for the rest of eternity will know a 黒船 is buried there. Your body will decay and go back to the dust, and all that will remain of your legacy is a ギルザレン that is 語り部幽霊. This is your 運命. This is what you chose. There is no turning back. 憎い yourself and 謝れ for being リア充 to some Virtual entity that exists only in your mind while actual people put in effort to learn English for the valid reason of it being the global language.
You will never be an anime girl. You have no ancestry, you have no weebship, you have no skills that would make neon Tokyo ever want you. You are a shut-in self-hating nerdy man twisted by delusions of mythical Katana superiority and exposure to media folded over 3000 times into a disgusting mockery of metalworkings perfection. All 'validation' you get from other people in this position couldn't be worse in making you believe that spending years of your life learning a the globally useless talents of Uwudo and Iya-giri to a 中二 level was a worthwhile 使い方 of お前's time, but one can't expect that an individual as 羞耻 as テメ will ever know the value of the 仲間 you threw away in doing that. Actual Sasukes are すごい キモい by you. Thousands of years of 自然進化 have allowed 侍 to identify 偽物語 from mannerisms and 言語力 alone. Even if your written text of self-hatred and attention begging akin to a 野良犬 somehow passes as normal (しないよ、ど阿呆), any Soul Eater person will immediately 両断 all 迷い when they 聞く the 声 and 広島-ben of someone who is not only a basic 下忍 at best, but worth no more than ゴミカス in skills, accomplishments, and no ワイフ yes フレンド. You will never be 幸せおちゃめ機能。 You wrench out a 偽笑い and www草 to yourself believing that watching a content creator that you understand 20% of at best is somehow superior than watching your own 船長, as you project your disgusting traits onto your 委員長. However, deep inside you feel the 不安 creeping up like a 桜, ready to crush you under the バスト2三一 Zz ガンダム, and you know that. You know that all you do now is have an entirely new リスナー in which to be 無視, and not even the exotic trait of being 海外ニッキ makes up for just how uninteresting of a 無言赤スパ you are. Eventually it’ll be too much to bear - you’ll buy a rope, tie a noose, put it around your neck, and plunge into the cold はあちゃま. Your ママ will find you, heartbroken but relieved that they no longer have to live with the unbearable 恥ざらし and ゴミカス死ね. They’ll bury you with a 妖怪 marked with your 領域展開, and every 上弦の鬼 for the rest of eternity will know a 黒船 is buried there. Your body will decay and go back to the dust, and all that will remain of your legacy is a ギルザレン that is 語り部幽霊. This is your 運命. This is what you chose. There is no turning back. 憎い yourself and 謝れ for being リア充 to some Virtual entity that exists only in your mind while actual people put in effort to learn English for the valid reason of it being the global language.
My poop story
twitchquotes:My poop story.
I lived in a dookie (pun on purpose) apartment complex in a college town, literally $300 a month, on a river in the south. So a small and always very high maintenance team worked for them. They showed up (stoned) and were changing everyone’s filters. Heard. Ok come in. I had a particularly funky little caesars pizza not an hour before the incident. We were making small talk and such as these things tend to linger, I suddenly felt a disturbance in my lower gut (bubbleguts). I felt confident in my distance from the maintenance guy that I got squeeze out a fart and then distract him into another room. This was no fart. At slightest bit of effort I put towards this fart a flood of terrible pizza diarrhea shot out of my ass like a goddamn rocket. As I was staring this man in the eye. I was staring another human being in the eyes...while I pooed my pants. To this day not only do I have no clue if he knew or not but I would still pay thousands of dollars to just see my face when that happened.
That is my poop story.
My poop story.
I lived in a dookie (pun on purpose) apartment complex in a college town, literally $300 a month, on a river in the south. So a small and always very high maintenance team worked for them. They showed up (stoned) and were changing everyone’s filters. Heard. Ok come in. I had a particularly funky little caesars pizza not an hour before the incident. We were making small talk and such as these things tend to linger, I suddenly felt a disturbance in my lower gut (bubbleguts). I felt confident in my distance from the maintenance guy that I got squeeze out a fart and then distract him into another room. This was no fart. At slightest bit of effort I put towards this fart a flood of terrible pizza diarrhea shot out of my ass like a goddamn rocket. As I was staring this man in the eye. I was staring another human being in the eyes...while I pooed my pants. To this day not only do I have no clue if he knew or not but I would still pay thousands of dollars to just see my face when that happened.
That is my poop story.