- Joined
- Feb 26, 2020
I've encountered one in the wild named Spork.If I met someone at work and they introduced themselves as 'Toad' I would probably blurt out "Toad? Really?!" I'd think they were busting my chops or playing a joke.
Spork. Spork.
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I've encountered one in the wild named Spork.If I met someone at work and they introduced themselves as 'Toad' I would probably blurt out "Toad? Really?!" I'd think they were busting my chops or playing a joke.
*holds up spork* XDI've encountered one in the wild named Spork.
Spork. Spork.
What in the fuck?!?
I can't make sense of proportions here. Bean bro must be like 4'6 or else that troon is punching through the ceiling.
I want to get back into playing DDR again (cardio, nostalgiafagging, etc) but the new population that does it seem to be quite... unhinged.at a party right now (big enough event for the scene) and the most prominent troons have tails on their pants. watching them play ddr is nightmarish
i don't think they're just attached to the beltline.
I imagine the smell was horrific. Not even the aroma of the pizza could provide a hint of relief.
I like saying "haha man" or "YWNBAW" from behind and just to the side, so they wonder if they heard correctly or if it was their deepest fears and doubts externalizing in the form of schizo hallucinations once again.This is one of the things that makes me actually miss living in the bug hive, where these things freely roam. I used to get so much satisfaction bursting out laughing as I passed them on the street, or on public transit. They’d look towards me, either sheepish or angry. But I’d be looking at my phone, before glancing over at them with a shit-eating grin. Therefore, they’d be questioning whether I was laughing at them, or at something on the phone.
Lots of fun to reply to their declaration of pronouns or stupid names with “oh. How fashionable”. Preferably with a slight smirk and stress on the ‘fashion’ part.I like saying "haha man" or "YWNBAW" from behind and just to the side, so they wonder if they heard correctly or if it was their deepest fears and doubts externalizing in the form of schizo hallucinations once again.
Maybe you could solve illegal immigration by offering a bounty of greencard status in exchange for a troon pelt. You know, like Canada does with coyotes.
I work with a man that could be described as "goblinequese". He is legit 4'5" to my {glorias 5'7" female big tittied self} but he is so clearly a man. Meanwhile these lil' pooners cant even hold a door for a woman right. Smh. There's a different caste when you cant even do "being polite" well.I saw a pooner a couple of days ago at the convenience store as I was checking out. Had a full beard and was wearing loose cargo pants, but she was only about 4 foot and had the typical petite frame that betrays most pooners. The main takeaway was that I clocked her by how she walked, which I never thought possible. I don't how to put it in words, maybe certain women have a gait or stride men don't? All I know is my ape brain detected her in my peripheral, said "that's a lady", and then I look over to a tiny lil' dood with a beard. They really are like skinwalkers, you get a faint Twilight-Zone feeling looking at them, but you ultimatley just feel sad for them (unlike the male troons).
The last thing that delivery driver saw before that tranny consumed his soul. RIP