That reads like the guy is learning how to program a VCR to record Who’s the Boss reruns.
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That reads like the guy is learning how to program a VCR to record Who’s the Boss reruns.
Post, let's make this clear, @Bradley92756170 , Bradley Thomas Kvistad, the helper, last to be born of all the immortals, ask brother Satan, Donald Trump, Alan Alda, Raquel Welch(rocked your ass in 1 million years B.C.), new Paltalk, new Clubpogo, I Rule We Dit !,
Me trying to figure out what this person is sayingQuote:
Originally Posted by Mr. Oobir
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Fucking dumbass Nikolas "Stupidfaced Shiteater" Stanley you fucking degenerate bag of gangrene weasel shit. Fuck off nobody denounced people on the maoist front with lojg fucking essays dumbass. This is not what the fuck maoists do but you're too busy on your paint chip diet mixed with soy cola diet veganism to fucking get your dumbass head out of your puss-laced shithole. Your rampant revisionism combined with your inability to fucking self crit over any level of retardation you do on a daily basis shows your cockroach personified decomposer breath for all it is, flat fucking garbage. You're a fucking prudish manwhore with no concept of tact. You fucking get yourself hung up on your rabies infested vitriol with your fucking anti-maoist memes too busy touching yourself to your recent fucking record player because lord knows you don't have any food left over for the fleas you broke ass fake Jason Unruhe motherfucking Leading Light horseshitter. You'll never have Hei's cult of personality, Jason Unruhe's money or that fuckboy Caleb's influence because you just sit at home and fingerbutt while did heroin. Your brain is too small to process the higher intricacies because it is splintered with frozen aids sickles and you're too afraid to battle test your garbage ass theory because you live in a place known for polar bears and being America's lubricant that makes big ol Saudi Arabia shemale dick go into the butthole getting ran through like the British did to Zanzibar ass motherfucker. You look like rectum. Your Leftbook whiteness prevents you from digesting the pure irony of your own obelisk of failure and pedantry. Your little skull-fucked sarcophagus will read "here lies an epitaph" because somehow you come off as a worse version of an alt-right Jon Hillstrom or an even more redpilled Shat Florence. Mustard gas eating dick weasel. You hold up Enver Hoax like he's some kind of illuminated gentleman when he was really just another steamroller asphault waiting in line for the serepindity but you're too much of a barbitchuate to notice that kind of shit aren't you. your communism is so iimmature and green i thought it was undergoing a gay ass version of photosynthesis. You're the kind of fucksandwich that needs denounced before you pollute the masses with your incoherent, quixotic drivel. You are too much of a pig latin to discourse with fucking EDL looking skinfucker. Your ignorance known no atmosphere but the one it was bred in which happens to be an empty vacuum floating on the adventurist non-backbone you mistake for a spine but is actually individualistic subterfuge. Coward.
Nikolas = OWNED
all the fags on this site that dont like dream theater either dont play musical instruments or just plainly dont know f**k all about progression and talent.Dreeam theater is one of the most technical f**king mainstream band out there.SO again any fags that want too talk sh*t about dream theater,find the facts first.next time u try to dis a dream theater be ready to be put in ur place bitch.
That is strongly evocative of a particular kind of person. Dream Theater stans are real.
Dear Prudence,
I live in one of the wealthiest neighborhoods in the country, but on one of the more “modest” streets—mostly doctors and lawyers and family business owners. (A few blocks away are billionaires, families with famous last names, media moguls, etc.) I have noticed that on Halloween, what seems like 75 percent of the trick-or-treaters are clearly not from this neighborhood. Kids arrive in overflowing cars from less fortunate areas. I feel this is inappropriate. Halloween isn’t a social service or a charity in which I have to buy candy for less fortunate children. Obviously this makes me feel like a terrible person, because what’s the big deal about making less fortunate kids happy on a holiday? But it just bugs me, because we already pay more than enough taxes toward actual social services. Should Halloween be a neighborhood activity, or is it legitimately a free-for-all in which people hunt down the best candy grounds for their kids?
—Halloween for the 99 Percent
Would be a shame if his/her tires got slashed
She's back for more. Jessica can't sing... she can't act... but she definitely looks hot. She belongs on stage with a pole, shakin' her tight ass for a fiver or ten spot, rather than takin' on a cool cut like "These Boots Are Made for Walkin'".
These boots are made for walking
And that's just what they'll do
One of these days these boots
Are gonna walk all over you!
It's bad enough that The Dukes of Hazzard, a backwoods, shit-kickin', low-brow '80s television series set in the heart of Hee-Haw country during it's run of endless redneck car chases, is given new life as a movie by uninspired Hollywood hot shots who have no clue or original ideas, to make matters worse, we get ultra-bimbo Jessica Simpson desecrating the take-no-shit '60s hit single, "These Boots Are Made for Walkin'". Countryfied with the assistance of Willie "Pass the Joint My Way" Nelson, the new version of an old classic anthem is as limp as Uncle Jesse's dick after draining a bottle of Jack Daniels on a scorchin' summer night.
The song was originally popularized by Nancy Sinatra, with attitude... and later covered with menacing arrogance by the mighty Megadeth, for the Killing Is My Business... album. The daughter of "Ol' Blues Eyes" gained added respect for the song when Quentin Tarantino admirably included "These Boots..." in Kill Bill: Volume One, a film that is definitely worthy of the stompin' song, as opposed to a movie dedicated to the antics of those rebel flag wavin' Duke boys, moonshine, and incompetent law enforcement.
"Daisy" Simpson shows a complete lack of talent trying to carry off the remake of "Thes Boots Are Made for Walkin'", which features altered lyrics. I am being generous handing out a half-star rating for Jessica's lame recording.
The boot prints are firmly laid down with force. Nancy 'n' sneering Dave "The General" Mustaine walk all over J.S.
KNOCK IT BACK!
When I was a kid Joanna Newsom would have been the ideal girl for me. If we had been in school together I would have always tried to get the seat next to hers in biology class so we could laugh and giggle at anatomy diagrams, or I would stand behind her in the lunch queue to smell her golden locks, or even give up my space in the lunch queue so she could get the best choice of chicken breast. I would have tried to look deep and thoughtful by frowning a lot and growing a fuzz moustache and scratching ironic cries for help in to my desk. She would no doubt have spurned my somewhat creepy and stalker-like advances with just as much indifference as she would have spurned my chivalrous actions as she would have been, on the evidence of Ys, far too deep a thinker for my teenage brain, fascinated rather than amused by anatomy, and ironic and funny without having to pretend.
She would have been my kind of gal because she was beautiful in a non-threatening way, highly original in her thought process, creative, alternative, smart, and so cute you could almost commit the accidental crime of squeezing all of the life out of her with overbearing affection. Had I been a more interesting, original and talented guy and did not come across in the least bit creepy, then perhaps, had we ever met (I must remember that this is pure fantasy), she might have let me be her boyfriend and then a few years later when she recorded her masterpiece, Ys, I could have had the honour of performing the baritone male vocal accompaniment part on "Only Skin" which, due to it's tumbling and vibrant nature, is my personal highlight on this record which is packed full of highlights, so packed, in fact, that there is no room for choruses or traditional song structures as we were used to on The Milk-Eyed Mender. Instead we are treated to unravelling musical fairy tales which possess an undercurrent of the nightmarish world of Louis Carrol or the Brother's Grimm as the line between adolescence and adulthood is heartbreakingly blurred.
However, had Joanna and I met and fallen in love then it could not have been guaranteed that she would have ever recorded such a colossal record as this as, according to Doc Emmit Brown, the space/time continuum would have been disrupted and I may have dragged her down into my sad little life and not allowed her to follow the path of magic and wonder which she must have taken to invent the world in which the stories which comprise Ys take place in. I find it hard to imagine Joanna sitting down and having a normal breakfast of cereal; her music makes me presume that she runs through endless fields of corn causing butterflies to flee ahead of her skipping body as she gathers cereal and wheat with which to make bread through some magic process involving a nice equivalent of a cauldron. I hate to think that at night she relaxes in front of the television; I assume, by listening to her music, that she is no doubt out after dark, her path lit by glowing fire flies, gathering moon beams in a basket. She does not lie in bed and frolic with some hairy man who falls asleep after he has released his desire into her; she stays up all night and tells stories to the animals who gather in hushed wonder in the collected moonlight she leaves outside of her window.
No, had I ever met and seduced a young Joanna it is highly possible that none of these images would seem even remotely possible; the normality would overpower the magic as it inevitably does, and the world would have lost a precious gem. And for not depriving the world of that, I should be thanked.
DAMN! I thought only Knockout was allowed to shut down fools like this!!Quote:
The boot prints are firmly laid down with force. Nancy 'n' sneering Dave "The General" Mustaine walk all over J.S.
KNOCK IT BACK!
KNOCK IT BACK!
Hiya! I’m Star, from Louisiana and I’m giving it one more chance to hopefully find a loving caring Daddy to take care of me.
I am: - 32, 5’7”, 305 lbs, curvy and plump with dark brown hair and eyes. The weight is a work in progress - I’m working on being stronger and fitter (and could really use a Daddy to help keep me on task!) - a nerd. Harry Potter, Doctor Who, MCU, Sailor Moon... there’s tons of geeky stuff I’m into! Between board games, video games, anime, movies, music, and tv shows I like, we’ll probably have lots of things in common if you’re a nerd too - Cuddly and affectionate. I thrive on hugs and snuggles, and can never get enough. Plus playing with my hair is an instant way to make me melt. - Inexperienced yet very curious to explore lots of new things. If we click and I open up to you, you might just be surprised at how kinky I can be - Introverted yet friendly and outgoing. I’m just as fine going out to festivals and going dancing as I am staying at home and watching a movie. But too much going out and I’ll need time to recharge. - Fun! Or at least I hope you think so. Some of my main hobbies include: reading, video games, running, hiking/camping, writing/drawing, plus more that I kind of dabble in as the mood hits. On my little side, I love stuffies, legos, everything Disney, park days, pacis/sippys, and cozy blankets
You are: - Ideally between 23-40 years old. However this is NOT a firm limit, so if you’re a year or two outside this, and you think you fit the rest, then message me! - Willing to be patient. I think differently (Asperger’s and ADD) and have rough times (depression and anxiety), as well as being burned before by wannabe ‘daddies’. Given time, I will open up to you and be the bubbly, wild, goofy little I am, but at first I will most likely be a little hesitant and shy. - Open to things becoming serious. I don’t want something casual, I don’t want just sex and kink. I want something long-term with the possibility of becoming serious and moving to irl. I’d also like to be your only one. I’ve got a lot of love and affection to give and I’d like it if Daddy’s attention wasn’t split between me and someone else (exceptions obviously made if Daddy has kid(s) already)
There may be other things I would like you to be/like from you, but a) I can’t put them into words at this moment, and b) those are the major ones up there. I really really hope I can find the right Daddy for me this time, so if you’re interested, please do message me with a little bit about yourself and why you think you’d be a good Daddy for me. Bonus if you tell me your favorite color!
tl;dr - I know my age, my body size/shape, and my atypical personality might work against me, but I have a lot of love and affection to give the right Daddy, and plenty of new things to explore with him, if he’ll take the time and give me a chance.
She'll hurt you, boy!
If I was a Caesar salad, the croutons would be my friends, the lettuce would be my family and the dressing itself would be my mom," Garnett said. "Because you can have the lettuce and the croutons, and it can be called a Caesar, but until you have the dressing and it actually tastes like a Caesar. . . ."
"Now Cobb salad," Garnett continued, "that’s a different story. If I was a Cobb salad, my wife is the lettuce…no, sorry, my daughter is the lettuce. My wife is the bacon strips. My friend Steve is the avocado. Cassell and Ty Lue are each a grape tomato. Tom Gugliotta is the chives and also the hardboiled egg. All my childhood pets are the cheese. And my mom is the Caesar dressing. I ask for Caesar dressing on my Cobb salads."
Gotta get that Caesar.
moneywise3 wrote: ↑
Sun Dec 16, 2018 2:12 am
How can someone spend 250k a year in living expenses?
Made me think and do some math.
We spend 2k on gas, and electricity each, 3k on phone, 8k on disability, 6k on insurance
2k on car, 650 on HOA, county tax of 5k
Car once every 10 year = 50G OR 5 G per year
So this is roughly 35k/year minimum
Rest is eating out, vacation, shopping.
No mortgage.
Maybe I/we need to spend more but there is no way I can see use spend 250k per year!
What am I missing?
(Just curious if my calculations are wrong and in no way trying to shame anyone)
For me: We spend around $15k/year at our Country Club (maybe more), $12k/year to board my daughter's horse, and $15K/ year for son's football/baseball lessons including 2 week boarding at IMG Academy in the summer. That doesn't include my S550 and wife's $80k Lincoln Navigator, $13k of property taxes on our $800k house-----restaurants, vacations, etc etc. Life ain't cheap!
https://pics.me.me/kanye-west-t-foll...50-3862181.pngQuote:
Originally Posted by Mr. Oobir
Well hello there and welcome to my little corner of the internet. In this wall of text you are about to read you are going to learn somethings about me. Like how I'm 28, I'm six feet five inches tall, how that I am heavy enough to have to worry about blowing over in a stiff breeze. You might learn that I'm a soul stealing ginger that enjoys the delectable taste of souls in the morning. I can't promise you a completely true piece of writing because lets face it... I think I'm pretty awesome so there might be a slight bias towards that eventuality. So let me just round off this introduction that it is my very great honor to meet you and you may call me Karl.
So then lets get down to what makes me.... well me. I am driven by curiosity and logic. I enjoy intellectual debates. Quandaries of philosophy and the meaning of life eat up a lot of my though process when I'm doing menial work that doesn't require my full attention. I talk to myself, I enjoy reading, watching movies, 4x4ing, snowboarding, shooting my bow/gun, cuddling, road trips, music, video games, wrestling, drinking, farming, being my quasi own boss. Pretty much if its fun I'm down, I like to have a good time. The Flip side to this being what I dislike in general is hypocrisy, flakiness, unreliability, laziness, people who use others, no common sense, judges, superficial/material... If there is anything else when i think of it I'll let ya know.
So as you can see I'm just about two people slammed together a dichotomy if you will. I have the outdoor go play and have fun side of me, I also have the sit at home watch movies or play games nerdy side. So whats this mean, well it means that I'm extremely well rounded and again I'm down for whatever someone whats to do. Now ladies here is a bit of advice for you, If i ask you what you'd like to do for a date and you say you don't care I can decide I might just pick the nerdiest damn thing I can just to see if you'll stick around. If I ask its because I honestly want your opinion on the matter. (If you can't tell I'm a bit of a smart ass as well ) (Oh and sarcastic too!)
So to cap this all off and let you get back to your regularly scheduled lives before your old and grey I'll reiterate a few points. I'm 28, I'm tall, I am a big guy (I'm not chiseled from stone, but if you think that I'm lazy or out of shape you might just be mistaken), I farm for a living, I live in the middle of nowhere.
So go ahead and say hello, or I might say hello to you. If you do talk to me you won't get any "hey baby's" or "Sup sexy" I won't ask for naked pictures, I won't ask for sex. I'll actually talk to you like your a person, not a set of walking boobs. Who knows maybe we will hit it off, or maybe you'll just make a new friend... Either way thanks for reading and maybe I'll talk to ya later
PUT THIS WARNING ON YOUR PROFILE PEOPLE. WARNING: Any institutions using this site or any of its associated sites for studies or projects - You do NOT have my permission to use any of my profile or pictures in any form or forum both current and future. If you have or do, it will be considered a serious violation of my privacy and will be subject to legal ramifications.
See you in court, Mr. Bender.
(Oh and sarcastic too!)
Apparently WWI-My Little Pony blogs exist and now I’m angry.
Not only is that both disturbing and baffling to me, putting cartoon horses in war uniforms, it’s incredibly disrespectful to all the very real people, and yes, horses, who had horrific experiences in the War. No war is a game, so either you’re making the war some silly fun for your star-butted pals or you enjoy seeing cartoon ponies mangled and murdering each other - I’m not entirely sure which is worse.
Either way, I’m letting it be known that my content is not for reblogging on any kind of blog like that. If I find out you did so, like happened today, I will block you so you cannot take any more of the photos of real, brave men and prop them up as a pony backdrop. The same goes for furries, other kinds of cartoon animals, etc.
There are lots of places for your weird little animals to play dress-up. Leave the Great War alone.
Quote:
There are lots of places for your weird little animals to play dress-up. Leave the Great War alone.
Polega, John C. 8/18/1929 - 6/9/2015 Walker Always known for his strength and determination, John C. Polega did it his way and passed away peacefully on the morning of June 9, 2015. As an Army Corp foreman or City of Grand Rapids Traffic Engineering Supervisor, John operated with a full deck to the very end. While in their home of 60 years, he cashed in his chips for the final time with his devoted wife Jackie by his side. As he waits patiently for Jackie to join him, his surviving daughters, Toni (and Butch) Payne, along with Tracy (and Lyndon) Greeley continue to abide by his wishes and lovingly carry on with his lifetime commitment of caring for their mother. With few friends and family left behind, he wearily folded from bone cancer; leaving several grandchildren, great grandchildren and nieces and nephews. Born August 18, 1929, John rolled the dice as a long-term winner, played the odds and crapped out in his own time. Along with some lucky dice, he resides in Paradise Township, Evergreen Cemetery, Kingsley, Michigan.
Quote:
Originally Posted by Beau Bender
http://www.wtfdetroit.com/forums/sho...ghlight=deaths
Ghulam Mohammad Baksh Butt (22 May 1878 – 23 May 1960), better known by the ring name The Great Gama, was an Indian-born wrestler from the British Raj who then moved to Lahore, Pakistan post-partition where he lived for the rest of his days
There must be a reason why this restaurant fast food place is called Burger King. However one day they should come up with the ultimate Whopper and should make that much of the biggest whopper sandwich and when they do they should call it the King Whopper or something like that and when I say the King Whopper I'm talking about one big huge Whopper one big patty 1 lb at which case they would need bigger buns how's that for excitement
Tell me more.
The first time I heard this album was a mere hour after I nearly cheated on my girlfriend of (at the time) seven months. I had drank more than half a fifth of Bacardi 151 and blacked out, only to "awaken" 12 miles away in an ex-friend's bedroom. As I came to, I found my oh so familiar messenger bag, which contained my ipod, headphones, and a recently empty bottle; I got off the bed, realized what I had nearly done, and began walking home in total shock: who have I become?
It was around 5AM when I began walking. I wasn't aware at the time that this album was such a powerful and unique ambient recording. All I know is that when the first track started I couldn't imagine anything more perfect. The sun was just rising in the valley where I was en route to home. I started Marble Sky - The Sad Return. As I walked the sky was misty with morning dew, and the clouds above me masked the sun into a shining yellow orb surrounded by swirling pinkish brown clouds that looked like cut marble... I was picked up and brought into orbit, of course with guilt and reflection as my gravity.
For 7 miles I listened to this album, while occasionally turning east to look at the Sun. A marble sky accompanying on my ashamed and quite, quite sad return.
I personally believe that U.S. Americans are unable to do so because, uh, some, uh, people out there in our nation don't have maps and, uh, I believe that our education like such as in South Africa and, uh, the Iraq, everywhere like such as, and, I believe that they should, our education over here in the U.S. should help the U.S., uh, or, uh, should help South Africa and should help the Iraq and the Asian countries, so we will be able to build up our future. For our children
God Bless, uh, America
I live my life in a kind of ascetic negation in relation those my age, utterly rejecting what I regard as their degraded amusements. I realize all is vanity, but there's seems especially earthly.
Yet the threshold of my ersatz hermeticism is imperfect, and certain things break through, the name "Fantano" among them (the rest, I think, are things like cartoons and video games, in service to the inexplicable idea that puerility and bad taste are a kind of "sincerity").
Why? Nothing I have seen this man say is remotely clever or insightful, he's indistinguishable from the throng of lithic, conventionally unconventional variations on a theme reduced to "yes" and "no." He's the sort of programistic "elitist" whose "taste" and "expertise" are predicated on an unwillingness to pursue history and an inability to say anything of interest.
If he's been elevated by that distinctly American process of the exultation of ignorance and become the most consequential tastemaker, that is truly sad, because when I'm reminded of what a doomed country this is, I at least like my most base instincts to be served by something amusing, and he's far too boring for that.
I hope I didn't sound like that when I was a teenager.
Jenkem is an inhalant and hallucinogen created from fermented human waste.[1] In the mid-1990s, it was reported to be a popular street drug among Zambian street children. They would put the feces and urine in a jar and cover it with a balloon then let it ferment out in the sun, then afterwards they would inhale the fumes created
Close the thread. Please.
Last week, I was in a car with my brother and his fiancee, driving through their upscale neighborhood on a hot summer day. At the corner, we all noticed three little girls sitting at a homemade lemonade stand.
We follow the same rules in our family, and one of them is: Always stop to buy lemonade from kids who are entrepreneurial enough to open up a little business.
My brother immediately pulled over to the side of the road and asked about the choices.
The three young girls -- under the watchful eye of a nanny, sitting on the grass with them -- explained that they had regular lemonade, raspberry lemonade and small chocolate candy bars.
Then my brother asked how much each item cost.
"Oh, no," they replied in unison, "they're all free!"
I sat in the back seat in shock. Free? My brother questioned them again: "But you have to charge something? What should I pay for a lemonade? I'm really thirsty!"
His fiancee smiled and commented: "Isn't that cute. They have the spirit of giving."
That really set me off, as my regular readers can imagine.
"No!" I exclaimed from the back seat. "That's not the spirit of giving. You can only really give when you give something you own. They're giving away their parents' things -- the lemonade, cups, candy. It's not theirs to give."
I pushed the button to roll down the window and stuck my head out to set them straight.
"You must charge something for the lemonade," I explained. "That's the whole point of a lemonade stand. You figure out your costs -- how much the lemonade costs and the cups -- and then you charge a little more than what it costs you, so you can make money. Then you can buy more stuff, and make more lemonade, and sell it, and make more money."
I was confident I had explained it clearly. Until my brother, breaking the tension, ordered a raspberry lemonade. As they handed it to him, he again asked, "So how much is it?"
And the girls once again replied, "It's free!" And the nanny looked on contentedly.
No wonder America is getting it all wrong
bukdow
""No!" I exclaimed from the back seat. "
Years ago before it was well known issue I went and bought a bunch of sugar free candy. Don't know if it still is but most of it used "sugar alcohol" which turns your poops into water and makes your sphincter about as useful as a locked door with no hinges.
Go to my little cousins birthday party she was around 6 and most my family was there, my uncle walked up behind me put me in a bear hug around my gut and picked me up.... that boiling gravy shot through my pair of underwear and my khaki shorts and turned my uncles clothes into a baseball players uniform after sliding into home plate in the rain.
Kids don't eat a whole bag of sugar free candy and expect to do ANYTHING.
