Stop with the fucking " I bet you'll never guess what's under my dress.."
It's tits. It's always fucking tits.
This is no mystery to anyone, and human anatomy has been the same for over 100k years. Seriously, shut the fuck up. You all do this. Do you really think your tits and asshole are so special that they're going to shift our collective consciousness or something?
"I bet the guys at the gym wonder what's under my yoga pants."
I bet they already know, and if they fucking don't, maybe you shouldn't be at a kid gym for 4 year olds.
What happened to this ad? :(
More Copypastas
Sneaky and Meteos fan fic
twitchquotes:
"zach, i can't do this anymore!" meteos cries from his side of the bed. sneaky's eyes widen in shock at the sudden outburst "w-what do you mean, will?" "i'm tired of being your side piece," he cries, "i want to be your one and only." the younger man's face flushes. "will," he starts. "i love you." he digs through the night stand and pulls out a ring. "will you marry me?" "yes!" meteos cries out with joy. he plants a kiss on his lover's cheek, full of tenderness. they are pure passion incarnate.
twitch chat
Sneaky
This guy's painting is CRAZY
twitchquotes:
“This guy's painting is CRAZY!” “My drawing can't win against a painting like that” "He NEEDED precisely those colors to win" “He drew the only scene that could beat me” "He had the perfect brush"
“This guy's painting is CRAZY!” “My drawing can't win against a painting like that” "He NEEDED precisely those colors to win" “He drew the only scene that could beat me” "He had the perfect brush"
twitch chat
Kripp
The pasta will be that pasta that you’ve spammed
twitchquotes:
I looked at this pasta originally, and I thought, you know, it’s a pasta, and you spam this pasta. The pasta will be that pasta that you’ve spammed, so you’re spamming a pasta. So it is one thing to spam a pasta if your chat doesn’t really have any pasta. The pasta will screw up the pasta pretty hard, and that means it’s a pretty good pasta.
twitch chat
Kripp
Chungus has no beginning. Chungus has no end
Chungus has no beginning. Chungus has no end. Chungus is infinite. Millions of years after our civilization has been eradicated and forgotten, Chungus will endure.
Chungus is eternal. The pinnacle of evolution and existence.
We are but rudimentary creatures of blood and flesh. We touch Chungus' mind, fumbling in ignorance, incapable of understanding.
Organic life is nothing but a genetic mutation, an accident. Our lives are measured in years and decades. We wither and die. Chungus is eternal. Before it, we are nothing.
Chungus imposes order on the chaos of organic life. We exist because Chungus allows it, and we will end because Chungus demands it.
Chungus transcends our very understanding. We cannot grasp the nature of Chungus' existence.
I finally did it. I out-pizza'd the Hut
I finally did it. I out-pizza'd the Hut. It was the greatest mistake of my life.
After years of perfecting my recipe, I made my way down to the local hut, fresh-baked pizza pie in hand. "Try this," I told the kid working the counter. He did, and he had to agree that it was better than anything Pizza Hut had to offer. Soon, the entire store, customers included, was feasting on my delicious pie. The manager walked over, grabbed a slice, and took a bite. I look at him, anticipation rising. This was the boss, the local fief lord of the Hut. His approval meant more to me than all the rest combined. He took a bite and nodded. "I'll be damned," he said, "you really did it. You out-pizza'd the Hut. Shame." Shame? What did he mean by tha- the manager pulled a gun out from behind his apron and shot the nearest customer in the head. "We have a Code Jalapeño," he said into his wrist as he executed the remaining customers. "I repeat, we have a Code Jalapeño." The ground was slick with blood. The kid working the counter choked out his dying breath as the manager turned to me. "You just had to do it motherfucker. You just had to out-pizza the Hut." He shoved the gun in my face. I was too scared to fight, too scared to run. The manager pulled the trigger.
A click. The gun was empty. I threw a chair at the manager and scrambled out of the Pizza Hut, not even bothering to see if my missile hit its mark. I was closely pursued by the manager, who had gotten his hands on a deadly sharp pizza cutter. I suspected in his hands it would cut more than pizza. Somehow, I was able to get into my car and speed off, the manager cursing my existence as I left him behind. I took a deep breath. The manager was clearly psychotic. Yes, that was it, just a crazy man with a gun. It had to be. My phone rang. Sister. I picked it. "They're dead, she sobbed. They're all dead. M-mom, dad, Chris, Bill. Dead. They killed them all." I could barely understand her, so great were her sobs. "What do you mean? Where are you?" I asked urgently. "How is this possi-" a single gunshot sounded through my phone's speakers. Silence. Then, I heard a man's voice. "No one out-pizzas the Hut." He hung up. I drove down the empty county road, mind blank. I had nothing. They killed my family. I was alone.
At that moment I knew what I had to do. They took everything from me. Well then, I would take everything from them. Pizza Hut was so terrified of being out-pizza'd, they forgot there's one thing worse than a man with a recipe: A man with nothing to lose. I'll give them a limited time offer they won't be able to refuse: two bullets for the price of one.
With a free side order of pain.