So the wife and I were getting into it and she told me to talk dirty to her. So I called her a filthy slut.
She said “dirtier!” So I smacked her around and told her I was going to use her like the cheap whore she is.
She said “dirtier!” So I said “I’m gonna stick some SQQQ in your portfolio. I’m gonna put it in long and deep. I’m gonna fill you up with way OTM SPY puts.”
She then slapped me, packed a bag and took the kids. I think we’re getting a divorce.
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More WallStreetBets Copypastas
GME $1000 IS NOT A MEME
🚀🚀🚀 UPVOTE/GILD SO PEOPLE CAN SEE 🚀🚀🚀
LISTEN TO ME. DO NOT SELL TOMORROW. OR ANY DAY THIS WEEK. Drops are coming. They are counting on fear to beat us. It’s the only weapon they have on us, but it won’t work because we are retarded. The people are finally taking the power back from these boomer hedge fund big money shorting douchebags - the same people who fucked everyone over in 2008 with CDOs and continue to fuck you over to this day. Get ready to make Melvin throat hard retard dick. We only have strength if we stay in this TOGETHER. HOLD THE LINE. THE SHORT SQUEEZE HASNT HAPPENED YET. Don’t pussy out you fucking idiots. $1000 IS NOT A MEME. I love you all, you beautiful autistic bulls. Hang tight while we ride this thing into the FUCKING STRATOSPHERE.
APES TOGETHER STRONG 🦍 💎 🚀
WallStreetBets
Classic
Google employees complaints
Reading Google employees complaints about workplace is like watching Becky cry on social media how her life's ruined when she only got a new Hyundai for graduation instead of the audi she asked.
Bitch give me that 300k job and I will deal with "my voice not being heard" all day every day.
WallStreetBets
Christmas for a wsb trader
As the tree blinks from white to red to green, you look at the void under the tree that previously held presents. Fewer this year than usual, but some.
How did you get here? Boredom? In March, you felt trapped with your wife and infant. You needed something to pass the time. Something you could throw yourself into fully.
“Are you coming to bed?” your wife yells down the stairs. It seemed harmless at first, but as the pandemic drew on, so did your investment. You’ll stop soon, though. “Soon!” you reply, and you hear her feet climb the steps.
The lights start to blink chaotically. You cringe because you could only afford the junk strands at CVS. Suddenly they halt—the alternation feature broken—on red. The red fills the room and covers your flesh. You look down at your hands, and they look like they’re bleeding. Like your calls.
After a time—hours?—you realize you’re sitting in complete darkness. Your lights have expired, worthless.
WallStreetBets
Mr. Musk I don’t feel so good.
Mr. Musk I don’t feel so good.
༼ つ ◕_ ◕ ༽つ
༼ つ ◕_ ◕ ::;:.::..:. . . . . . . . . . . .
༼ つ ◕_ :;:.::..:. . . . . . . . . . . . . .
༼ つ :;:.::..:::....:.:... . . . . . . . . .
༼ ;::,':;:.::..:::....:.:... . . . . . . . . .
WallStreetBets
Unrealized losses
She runs her hand through your thinning hair and laughs. “What?” you ask absentmindedly. You’re looking at Futures, and you’re surprised to see them red.
“I want you to play with me.” She says it playfully, but the single ounce of you that isn’t totally aloof realizes she said this in earnest. And so you do. You throw your phone, and you pin her to the sofa, then the ground. You both roll about, wrestling, like lion cubs. Kissing, lightly biting. Sometime later, you both stop, breathing hard. She grabs an open bottle of red wine, and you pass it back and forth. Eventually she says, “I want to do that more.”
But you’ve already found your phone again to check Futures. Still red. “Uh huh,” you say, distracted. She stares at you for a long moment, but you don’t realize it. Silently, she gets up and goes to bed, and you don’t say a word because you don’t notice.
She hasn’t left you yet, but she will soon.
Unrealized losses.