Now he is going to threaten to beat both of us up and challenge our manhood. Then he will talk about all the tough guys he has been around and how real men don’t take shit from wimps.
It is going to be soooooooo fucking funny to link to this post when he inevitably does it.
You no savy? Just trying to speak a llanguage you might understand
Sorry, I know basic American English and Navy and Computer slang. I don’t know prison talk.
I thought I had you shut the fuck up many moons ago. What happened, the other one finally dropped?
Cunt.
Why does it always seem like you either want to hug everyone or rip their heads off?
Well I’m not proud to say it, but I do. You speak to me and put me down and, well fuck, this is what I know.
Dude, don’t get all bent out of shape over it, Hell, it’s how the lower class communicates. I don’t dislike you or anything of the sort.
I apologize. Sometimes my base instincts take over. I really mean it dude, no shit.
OK, that’s cool. I just didn’t know where it came from. I didn’t mean to put you down. I was serious, I just don’t understand you sometimes. I jokingly said we must speak a different language. I also whoosh very easy, so have some patience with me too.
The way you posted that it seems like you are signing off calling yourself “Cunt” you may want to rethink that given your super masculinity…
Bitch, please. You’ve made your self a pussy all by yourself. Would you care to call me out, little boy?
Make you’re move, bitch.
Easy to start a new thread, Huh?
You know, why would I waste my time with your little bitch ass. Fuck, I’m the bitch for even responding to your punk ass.:smack:
Whoa, is it the full moon already?
You should change your name to Nostradamus.
Dude, you’re some kind of performance artist aren’t you.
oh yeah, link…http://boards.straightdope.com/sdmb/showpost.php?p=10184707&postcount=581
So where’s the thread calling me out?
Come on, you can do it. Chickenshit. Come on, Buk Buk Buk!
Hijack over, little BOY.
Then I post some dumb shit and you respond:
Bitch.
Crimoney, the sexual tension is so thick in here it’s like a Victorian-era London fog.
My mother won’t let me have a pony. I vote for pegasus.
Fuck, your sadder than I am.
“You know you’ll always be my number one,” he coos into her ear, cradling her head gently in his lap. “Her? Over there?” (A dismissive gesture across the room, where lies cooling the remainder.) “Baby, you know she meant nothing to me.”
My what?
Oh, enough of the salacious banter, fellows! Get to the hot, angry buttsex while we’re still interested.