There are too many people that call themselves what they are not, including on this very server. The design industry seems the worst, but I'm sure its the same in other professions. Everyone with 3 months of some Google class, suddenly calls themself an UI/UX Designer, while the craft (especially UX) takes years to develop. I also know a lot of professional designers that have 20+ years of experience, and still don't call themselves experts. Lucky for us, the professional market also sees through those fake designers. So, hone your craft, become better, and stop calling yourselves UI/UX Designers, when you are not. Or Full Stack Developer, when you only do HTML and CSS. Or Open Heart Surgeon, when you are only a masseuse.
I used to be a real ad
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Troves lump
Is that your knee or you just excited to see me?
twitchquotes:
( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) is that your knee or you just excited to see me? ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
twitch chat
Kripp
NEVER SUBBED NEVER DONATED
twitchquotes:
NEVER SUBBED 
NEVER DONATED ADBLOCK ON STOLEN LAPTOP NEIGHBOURS WIFI MOMMAS HOUSE STOLEN SOLAR PANELS STOLEN SUN SOLAR ENERGY STOLEN WATER WHEEL NEIGHBOURS RIVER STOLEN HYDROELECTRIC PLANT CHARGING PHONE WITH WORK ELECTRICITY SHOWER IN BATHROOM SINK STOLEN FOOD FROM CAFETERIA STOLEN HAMSTER STOLEN HAMSTER WHEEL KINETIC ENERGY FREE ENTERTAINMENT
NEVER DONATED ADBLOCK ON STOLEN LAPTOP NEIGHBOURS WIFI MOMMAS HOUSE STOLEN SOLAR PANELS STOLEN SUN SOLAR ENERGY STOLEN WATER WHEEL NEIGHBOURS RIVER STOLEN HYDROELECTRIC PLANT CHARGING PHONE WITH WORK ELECTRICITY SHOWER IN BATHROOM SINK STOLEN FOOD FROM CAFETERIA STOLEN HAMSTER STOLEN HAMSTER WHEEL KINETIC ENERGY FREE ENTERTAINMENT
twitch chat
Please stop spaming gachiGASM and gachiBASS
. It's not good for a kid to see that. He might be curious about tasting a glorious *** in the future. I dont want that.I'm not gay but I want to live with Kanye West
I want to live in a log cabin in the woods with Kanye. We won't ever have sex, but there will be a simmering erotic undercurrent as I stand in the kitchen window watching him tighten his ass as he chops wood, shirtless, sweat pouring off his body. I'll run upstairs and masturbate, the entire time forcing myself to think of women while my thoughts drift back to Kanye. I won't be able to climax and I'll eventually go back downstairs, angry. Sometimes we will look across the table and catch each other's eyes, and in that second, anything is possible, but we both deny ourselves and go back to what we were doing. One day one of us will die, and the other will bury him outside the log cabin. Then they'll go inside, pen a brief missive to their departed friend, and commit suicide, never able to deal with life without their one true platonic love.