A microwave is a fancy dial-up modem to a schizophrenic. The action of opening the door is like the handshake process. The mmmmmmm noises are analog audio-binary data transmitted from the almighty God through the microwave to you, and schizophrenia allows you to demodulate this inside your brain. The beep is the hang-up tone. You have now listened in and received God's wisdom and commands through the microwave modem and demodulated its meaning inside your mental telex teletype. Some STINKY UGLY nerds think teletype is telephone type, no, it's telepathy type. Telepathic messages from GOD!

I saw exactly 1.09441 square inches of a girl's shoulder today. I immediately fell to my knees, as the rush of dopamine signaling my impending earth-shattering orgasm started making me moan loud enough to deafen everyone in the immediate vicinity. What followed was a torrential downpour of every single sperm cell I ever have or ever will produce, shot out so hard that my penis was ripped apart by my übernut accelerating to 5% the speed of light by the time it left my urethra. It vaporized the girl as it punched right through her, barely slowed, before cutting through a structural support beam in the school as if it were a nuclear-powered angle grinder. The sheer weight of this historical nut, combined with the total destruction of everything in its path, caused the school to collapse, and every female in the state of Illinois to fall pregnant with my children. When the final casualty toll was tallied, there were 458 deaths, 1426 injuries, and over 9 million pregnancies.

You are jealous of his rizz, and youd be jealous of mine as well. As a genji main i personally skip any and all foreplay, instead revealing my semen sword (penis) by shouting "RYUJIN O KEN WOE KURAE!!!!" And then plunging my semen sword (penis) into her clit (the hole you put the penis in) This builds excitement in the female and prepares her for what will be the best 4 thrusts of her life

this guy is based

+rep kanye

-rep when i was in my younger days many people used to make fun of me and call me the bologna boy. This man set aside the opinions of others to see past the nickname and get to know me personally. On a quiet friday night in march of 2005 he asked me to acompagny him to his father shed in the woods. I joined him and we marched quietly in to the woods. In that shed the horrors i was presented with were beyond my comprehension. I stood in amazment at the amalgamation of metal and flesh, the cries of agony from the mound of hell. it yearned to have its existance ended but the trials werent over.