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Sparrow's Chat Thread

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No, don't say that
sad audience GIF by Originals
thanks lol
 
I'm more of a 5/10 i can be iffy
girly you got youself mixed up with me. you, you're perfect, anyone who says otherwise a software update I keep ignoring—not because I’m too busy, but because I know deep down they’ll just make things worse. They have the charm of a cactus in a cuddle contest, the wit of a knock-knock joke gone wrong, and the subtlety of a foghorn at a yoga retreat. If procrastination were a sport, they’d not only be the champion but also miss their own award ceremony because they were too busy debating which socks to wear. Talking to them is like trying to explain quantum physics to a squirrel: amusing, sure, but ultimately futile. They’re the human equivalent of a low-battery warning, except no one rushes to plug them in. But hey, at least they’re consistent—consistently chaotic, absurdly ridiculous, and inexplicably lovable in the way only a walking, talking, glorious mess could be.
 
YOURE A NINCOMPOOP AAAAGG

THANK YOU

AGHHHHHHH DO YOU EVEN GET OFFENDED EVER?!

NOT BY YOU

IM UNSURE WHETHER TO BE FLATTERED OR ANNOYED.

It is now my mission to offend him

I WILL POUR YOGHURT IN YOUR EARS YOU WHITE CRAYON

GET OFFENDED YOU PINHEADED DECEASED DONKEY HUMAN EQUIVALENT OF A GAS STATION FLOOR

I might have to bring out the big guns

I have a one but I might get banned if I say it so this one instead
Listen here you toe eyed cabbage, I wasn’t born in the world so your nincompoop :) could annoy me with stupidity. I hope you stub your toe and have to crawl around your bedroom at 3:47 am in horrific pain after going to the kitchen for a midnight snack you gormless minger!
SNIPPETS OF MY AMAZING CONVO AND INSULTS
 
girly you got youself mixed up with me. you, you're perfect, anyone who says otherwise a software update I keep ignoring—not because I’m too busy, but because I know deep down they’ll just make things worse. They have the charm of a cactus in a cuddle contest, the wit of a knock-knock joke gone wrong, and the subtlety of a foghorn at a yoga retreat. If procrastination were a sport, they’d not only be the champion but also miss their own award ceremony because they were too busy debating which socks to wear. Talking to them is like trying to explain quantum physics to a squirrel: amusing, sure, but ultimately futile. They’re the human equivalent of a low-battery warning, except no one rushes to plug them in. But hey, at least they’re consistent—consistently chaotic, absurdly ridiculous, and inexplicably lovable in the way only a walking, talking, glorious mess could be.
I aint perfect far from it but...
... thanks?
 
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