I hate when people refer to orange juice as OJ.
Why OJ? Do you want to sound cool? Is it so much of a hustle to say orange juice? Do you abbreviate apple juice too? " Hey yeah, let me have some AJ?" - said by no one ever. I just think it sound annoying af.
Edit: I don't have any issues with abbreviations, except for OJ as orange juice. Sorry if I offended some of you with sensitive feelings.
I used to be a real ad
More Copypastas
If I see one more AYAYA
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Hey guys, I'm really trying to fucking watch the fucking channel and you all fucking spam your fucking copypastas non-fucking-stop and it's getting really fucking annoying. If I see one more fucking AYAYA, monkAS, "Press 1 if", :), counting, dancing emotes, "Only the true champion can champ this pog", or worst of all LONG TEXT COPYPASTAS, I'm going to fucking sign up for the fucking mars mission you fucks.
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I hate Twitch Chat
I want to smash
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I want to smash. No, not sex, not even in a physical way. I want to sit down and play Super Smash Bros. Ultimate while laughing and having a good time. I want to play 1v1’s. I want to play on your team against lvl. 3 CPU’s. You can be Kirby. I can play Jigglypuff. No items.
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Super Smash Bros
Not your naked body
This is our Chat mods
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(ง ͠° ͟ʖ ͡°)ง THIS IS OUR CHAT MODS (ง ͠° ͟ʖ ͡°)ง (ง •̀_•́)ง ʏᴇᴀʜ ʙᴇᴀᴛ ɪᴛ! (ง •̀_•́)ง
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Kripp
It's not gay with socks on
When I was 13 years old a buddy of mine tried to convince me to fool around. I wasn't into it, and he told me it's not gay if you're wearing socks. I didn't believe him, went home, and asked my dad.
That's 'gentleman's gay', hardly gay at all. Don't see it much these days.
The 50s were a different time. What were we to do? We were typical boarding school boys, rich with vigor, skin slick with drying sweat and gritty earth from a game of pigskin.
At night our young, virile bodies filled the dorm with sweet-musky vapors, like game-meat stewed with apple and peppercorn. You'd awake in darkness to the hushed, melodic rhythm of two pairs of white tube socks, barely visible in moonlight, bouncing on the hardwood floor.
The deep bond of male friendship played like a thousand different human instruments. The wet claps of skin on skin, the gentle thud of heads on backboards, frenzied cries in the throes of climax. Wilbur, so fat and soft like tapioca pudding. His breasts were so like the real thing, what we fantasized of our future wives. Unwilling, defenseless Wilbur, so slow and uncoordinated in the dark. 10 of us would glaze his bare, pink flesh like a giant raspberry danish. He once had the audacity to tell Headmaster Redford. But Redford was a Deerfield boy once, he understood. So he joined us on our midnight hog hunts.
Through college and years after we'd find time here and there, away from the wives at a family lake house. But it's been decades now - the times have certainly changed. If you wanted to do something private with another man, in your socks, it wasn’t ‘gay’. It was just two men, celebrating each other's strength.
Are you Pepega?
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Raise your hand to see if you are retarded or not ⎝ 
Raise your hand to see if you are retarded or not ⎝
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