"I got 1000 dollars" no you don't, shut up.
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"I got 1000 dollars," says the manchild who lets his wife beg strangers on the internet for grocery money, and can't even buy cheap work pants without begging for the money first.
Dude, you don't have a fucking thing.
I promise no one here is jealous of either of you.
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I'm not remotely envious of you two; you're both brainless, dead-end losers and there's nothing there to envy.
Seriously, after watching you two in action, "liked" is not the word I'd use; "pitied" is more like it. You're a belligerent meathead whose attitude writes checks your stupidity won't let you cash, and your obese wife is a chronic complainer and entitled ingrate. The two of you together have exactly the kinds of spending habits that are guaranteed to keep you impoverished and begging for handouts forever, and you're too fucking stupid to figure that out.
Here's the thing, Joshy-boy: if you really want to know what online strangers think about your whiny fat bitch of a wife, and why her attempts at begging on Twitter keep failing, read this entire thread—because we're just saying what most people who see her pleas online think, but are too nice to say.
As for who we are, most of us in this subforum (and on Deathfats, where Polissa really belongs, but whatevs) are women. Some of us were most definitely
not born with silver spoons in our mouths, and whatever our family backgrounds, some of us have survived some extremely hard times as adults, and some are in the midst of hard times right now. We don't mock people for being poor; we mock them for being idiots. And we can easily spot somebody whose "hardships" are mostly self-inflicted because they won't stop making idiotic decisions, and can't differentiate wants from needs.
Oh, hey, and while you're chest-pounding and dick-waving and letting us know what a tough manly-man you are for finally getting a fucking job, you can get on YouTube and learn how to fix your fucking stove, so you and your lazy fat wife have a way to cook much cheaper, healthier meals than Hot Pockets and Jimmy Dean sausage bowls, and don't have to beg for grocery money.
Sure, it's the landlord's responsibility, but if he's not going to do it, you have a choice: live without a stove and keep wallowing in your own weak-ass passivity like a bitch, or man up and learn to fix the fucking thing. The good thing is they're dead simple, and made so they can be fixed by sub-literate semi-retards like yourself. So fucking hop to it, bubba.