EL BRUJ0

Incantation

dude, pay attention.

Carcass

Coming in at 5'7'' and 145 lbs last time I got on the scale. I jog 4 miles, 4 times a week and on Fridays I get a good cardio workout dancing for about 5 hours straight.

Cause some of us aren't fortunate enough to have our supersexygirl post on the same message board as we do; and so we must lower ourselves to virtual panty sniffary, even if said panties are lesbianic in origin, which makes our level of patheticism accurately ghey.

soccer mom'ed?

If HD is a circle jerk, then CE is a sadomasochistic orgy that should have ended days ago.

I would if I ventured into the wrestling folders, but I don't cause rasslin = teh ghey.

I'd like to officially place my cock in the "ban-Choken-One-Hole", as his stupid post whoring ass brings down the quality in the music folder. This is all.

Pee-Brained Summer brings with it a lot more travel, and travel brings with it…a lot more pee anxiety. For the ladies, of course. Guys generally don't devote a lot of psychic energy to worrying about taking a leak. But women? It's a world of, as the inventors of My Sweet Pee put it, "lining the toilet with paper, crouching, or having to sit down on filthy seats in a public restroom!" The urgency denoted by that exclamation point led to creativity from Vivian Lipman and Joyce Nimetz, retired twin sisters from Houston who are marketing the My Sweet Pee shield. Despite its name, the shield does nothing to sweeten your urine; instead the flat piece of rubber allows a woman to pee standing up. "It molds into a funnel shape and acts as a splash guard and trough," Lipman says. (But can you write your name in the snow with it? Apparently not.) My Sweet Pee comes in both reusable and disposable models. A "citrus cleanser" allegedly allays any fears that a woman (who refuses to pee normally in a public restroom) might have about sticking a urine-soaked piece of rubber in her purse. It's $14.95 for a reusable and $11.95 for ten disposables. And if you're not interested at the moment, "It's a wonderful little stocking stuffer," Lipman says. We're sure it is. Our suggestion: Put it in a Tiffany box before you wrap it. Imagine the look of surprise on the little lady's face…

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^phagz

But is he selling the gimmick acount as well?

But no one has answered my question yet!

Is he Kooler than Jesus?

Uh-oh, sounds like trouble in paradise.

I'm mesmerized by the words preceding it... Open gates to darker lands We spread our wings and fly away

^source plz.

Never in my most moistening of fantasies could I have invisioned the splendid gheconomy that came about from this folder recent turning. Give yourselves a pat on the crotch or buttocks (which ever is your preference gents), as I'm sure you've earned it for this special Olympian task you've completed.

But it's helped the More-Steiner-than-Ben-Stein-Guy find work.

Just like you won't hear me when that message window rolls down, and the flames come out. You could post reply till you run out, or you can run for your backup, them flaming posts are gonna tear your back up.

TC sold us out, mang! CE shits are as low and fecalie as one can go.

Fool, I took nine flames in a row one night. I've felt the hottest flames, and I still won't learn. My attitude iz gangsta, so I can stand some beef.

Negroe you bes' qualify dat shit! Have you ever been to a third world messageboard? Now there's some depressed defecating right there. Even if they could somehow trade enough livestock for messageboarding privileges, they would collapse from the combination of hunger pains and having to type out all the clicks and whistle sounds. So before you take your manicured hands and gently stroke them across your gold-plated keyboard to type out your latest metrosexual manifesto, please give some consideration to the truly poor people of the world wide web. No, you're just not trying: This thread is ghey You're ghey This shit is ghey j00 = ghey See, it's not that hard. I don't know about you, but pigfucking is one of the highlights of a good day for me. I did, but when I Came to Daddy he was sippin' on the ratsmilk, while moms waz poppin' pills and stick twirlin'. Son, j00 don't wan non a dis.