Display posts from previous
Sort by

Re: Late gen lingo that us old farts have adopted

5 by losthighway
I've also adopted "mid". It's a very effective way to communicate a quality in one syllable.

My wife and I were calling excellent things "fire" kind of satirically, but then it crept in naturally. I try not to say it because it's kind of dumb sounding and I'm pretty sure it's already yesterday's lunch.

I work with ten year olds so I hear the worst of it often a year or two after the teenagers. I had one student who looked very self satisfied saying "skibidi Ohio" and I would drily respond, "oh, we're still doing that? I'm glad someone is trying to keep it alive."

I can also do without "cooked" or "ate".

Re: Late gen lingo that us old farts have adopted

7 by zorg
Completely against not acting my age. Nothing brings me greater joy than knowingly butchering dumb slang, or even better using whatever went out of fashion 15 minutes ago. Riz, Low Key, Sick, No Cap, Bussin', whatever ya got, I will use it to bring the Cringe. Fire with fire. Nothing glazes over the eyes of the kids faster than me asking about Cooking vs Cooked, and how Cooking is like ye olde slang Now We're Cooking with Gas. Love it.
janeway wrote: Fri Jul 18, 2025 4:52 am i do want to apologize if i offended anybody with my posts lately .. i was in denial of my impulses going wild

Re: Late gen lingo that us old farts have adopted

9 by Bluegum LaBloat
Chat, am I washed? Chat, be fr, am I washed? I think I might be washed. I think they might have washed me. But chat, who washed me? Chat, who dried me? Chat, who tucked me up in bed?

Every day I spawn in. Emerge wriggling out my skibidi bolus of slime. Whence and where? Lol. Idk. Vibes here be mad shady fr. Shit is not aesthetic. Shit is not bussin. Shit is burned-out cars piled in barricades across the street. Shit is THE END IS NIGH scrawled across bridges. Shit is roofs caved in, windows boarded, thin trees already rising out the wreckage, with roots that slip through gaps in the brickwork to return the brief work of man to the senseless rubble that came before. This sus ahh Ohio ahh realm is my crib. Damn, bitch, I live like this.

I am not built different. I’ma keep it a stack I am not even tryna be above it. I pull up swagless into this sauceless void. Chat, in what consists my drip? My drip is stiff with blood and mire. Chat, in what consists my aura? My aura is only fear. Chat, in what consists my rizz? My rizz is a half-turned head, twisted birdlike. My rizz is the empty circling of a dislocated jaw. My rizz is antic snarling. My rizz is reddened eyes.

Here’s a normal day in the life of a mf with zero inner monologue and zero ability to speak. From 6 to 7 am I bedrot, or I would if I had a bed. Instead I simply rot. Goblincore. Mushroomcore. Livid colonies of fungus going feral around my wounds fr. From 7 to 8 am I bedrot. From 8 to 9 am I bedrot. From 9 to 10 am I flail my arms around while making strangled hacking noises. No cap this is such a dope part of my morning routine. From 10 am until lunch I enter grind mode, by which I mean wandering in loose circles over the ruins. For lunch I secure the bag by fanum taxing a stray cat. Mukbang mode. Gristle ASMR. In the afternoon I stay on my sigma hustle grindset by loping aimlessly through the wreckage of a world I do not understand. Ready to smoke an opp. After work I decompress by uttering unearthly screams.

I have no bitches. I am bitchless. Kissless, hugless, handholdless, eyecontactless. All my homies get zero pussy. We squad up, but not for warmth or comfort. I would be a volcel if I had any volition, but ngl the force that powers my perambulations is unknown to me fr. I am a lurchcel. I am a shamblecel. I am a teeth rotting in my mouthcel. I am a feet torn to purple-bruising tatterscel. I am an infinite lack of wantingcel. I am post-horny. Nofap without trying. Noclipping out of my libido. Epsilon male. NPC. I’m giving either Stoic or leper. I do not long. I do not yearn. I feel no strong emotions. I don’t feel anything at all.

L + ratio + no life + not caught a single dub + no longer human + I snatch small twitching things out of the undergrowth to devour their flesh and viscera still raw, as the last few pumps of hot metallic blood spurt feebly in my face.

I twitch. Muscular spasms, hands taloned at ungodly angles. I stream. Vomiting bile or pissing where I stand. I doomscroll. I have doomscrolled over this entire island, over gentle green hills and through the grey wreck of cities, down to the infinite sea, and none of it has held my attention for even a moment, because I have no attention to hold. I am brainrotted. Molten black sludge in my cranium. I am locked in on the emptiness behind all phenomenal things. Frfr. Bet.

But despite the stagnant pond inside me, chat, lowkey there’s sometimes a presence that yeets me gibbering across the land, and no cap, that presence, chat, is you. Sometimes, chat, I be surrounding you in your fortified farmhouses. Lacerate my arm tryna reach through the windows, to you. Gyatt! To creak and groan so long without that gyatt! Sometimes, chat, I highkey be chasing you down in the fields. Fall on you and straight up devour your flesh, until you are like me: ungyatted; mid. What I want in you is that you are unlike me. Until I sink my teeth into your body, you are the chat I know to whisper around me on all sides in the depths of my inner night. Chat observes. Chat gives me views and subs. Chat likes, comments, and shares. Your eyes are not like mine. They hit different. Which is deadass why you, chat, are the only ones to whom I can direct my question.

Chat, am I washed? Chat, I think I might have been washed. Someone washed me. Someone dried me. Someone tucked me up in bed. But chat, who washed me? Chat, who dried me? Chat, who tucked me up in bed?

https://samkriss.substack.com/p/in-my-zombie-era
Post Reply

Return to “General Discussion”

Who is online

Users browsing this forum: No registered users and 1 guest