Little do you know, I've just stolen your entire collection of usernotes, and replaced them with a replica indiscernible from the original. These are going to be worth millions in a few years.
Omg. Step 1: Open Firefox. Step 2: Right click on the background of a page. Step 3: Click Properties. Step 4: Say "OMG" and fall out of your chair because you can't believe your eyes.
delete me
Mr. T.
Face was born in 1986, the year of champio_Ons.
Hey Monstrous_Pumpkin, will you give me lessons on how to be awesome? <3
It'd be a cold day in hell when Jojo's butt looks as good as Face.
Once upon a time there was a Mighty_Prince of extreme Mental_Prowess, named Meat_Puppet. He ruled his land full of Mundane_People with Magical_Prophets and his Massive_Penis, which was such a Magnificent_Portrusion that it had earned legendary status among the townsfolk as Meatus_Primus. One day, Meat_Puppet learned of an ambush upon his *kingdom* from Miserable_Pushover, his arch rival and king of the Most_Pathetic kingdom ever to exist. Model_Politician was the logistics expert of Meat_Puppet's Manly_Patrol, which was full of soldiers of the highest rank. On the evening of the ambush, the glorious prince of the land, Meat_Puppet ordered the troops of his Manly_Patrol to assemble in the path trenches, in waiting for Miserable_Pushover and his band of playground thugs. Exactly as Model_Politician had predicted, Miserable_Pushover showed up exactly on the Most_Probable hour, at which point Meat_Puppet casually strolled into their path to greet him. "How's it going, guy?" he said, admiring the look of Mad_Panic on the face of Miserable_Pushover, as he gave a ridiculous scream. "Yeerk! How did you know I was coming to ambush no wait not ambush, um, visit you?" Miserable_Pushover enquired nervously. "Heard it on the radio." came the nonchalant reply. Miserable_Pushover's eyes widened. "But the radio hasn't been invented yet, these are medieval times, you know." Meat_Puppet gave an all knowing shake of his head and replied "Dude, you're American. I hear they're still using the imperial mesurement system down there." At this point, the rest of Miserable_Pushover's army began to turn up, his head officer rode shakily up beside him on his scraggly horse, which was wearing a large name tag with "Malnourished_Pig" inscribed upon it. "Master_Pilates, where have you been??" exclaimed a visibly cross Miserable_Pushover. "I thought you told us to meet at cock's crow, not cat's meow, boss," the apologetic general exclaimed. "but oh well, forget it, we're here for a purpose - TO AMBUSH THESE WEAKLINGS," he swung his sword, bringing him crashing to the ground in a crumpled heap. Malnourished_Pig galloped off in terror, and the Mighty_Prince beckoned to his troops. They climbed out of the trench to stand beside Meat_Puppet, and began to kick Miserable_Pushover and Master_Pilates in the shins, who promptly responded by throwing sand in the faces of the Manly_Patrol. They then began screaming like little children and ran home crying. Meat_Puppet and his Manly_Patrol returned home, triumphant once more, and threw a Magnificent_Party, and listened to Musical_Performers, and everyone Merrily_Pranced. "More_Pork," they said as they took seconds and thirds of the Mouthwatering_Papalum, arranged in the feast of Mighty_Proportions, so kindly catered by the castle chef, Mr_Provision. The moral of this story is use the freaking Metric_Policy. >:O
On a side note, I can't.
Can I come too?
