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#61773
Ricky Bobby, n Fella in a supermarket rocks up with 6 eggs, 1/4 lb bacon, lil' block of cheese, lil' block of butter, lil' carton of milk, small loaf of bread... you get the idea...n Bird behind the ramp says "You're not single by any chance are you?"n He says quite presumptuously "Why yes I am, what gave it away?"n "Because you're so fucking ugly."Kick the slag into touch and read between the lines, fuckface.
#61774
Image n The ladies make great anglers. The beauty of teaching ladies to fish is they will listen, learn, take notice, practice, don't litter the countryside, have a more caring attitude and don't know it all after a day like so many guys do. They look great, smell good and catch lots of big fish.
#61775
I personally would have posted the photo of the other babe with the funny looking trout.Imagine getting your retarded daughter to don a bikini and snap a photo with her holding your shitty fly rod abortion. Imagine what she'll smell like after 2 days in the bush/on a boat? Pwwaaa...Nice smile retard, what is it? 28F outside?I think your avatar is looking at her tits.
#61776
The air of the room chilled his shoulders. He stretched himself cautiously along under the sheets and lay down beside his wife. One by one, they were all becoming shades. Better pass boldly into that other world, in the full glory of some passion, than fade and wither dismally with age. He thought of how she who lay beside him had locked in her heart for so many years that image of her lover's eyes when he had told her that he did not wish to live.Generous tears filled Gabriel's eyes. He had never felt like that himself towards any woman, but he knew that such a feeling must be love. The tears gathered more thickly in his eyes and in the partial darkness he imagined he saw the form of a young man standing under a dripping tree. Other forms were near. His soul had approached that region where dwell the vast hosts of the dead. He was conscious of, but could not apprehend, their wayward and flickering existence. His own identity was fading out into a grey impalpable world: the solid world itself, which these dead had one time reared and lived in, was dissolving and dwindling.A few light taps upon the pane made him turn to the window. It had begun to snow again. He watched sleepily the flakes, silver and dark, falling obliquely against the lamplight. The time had come for him to set out on his journey westward. Yes, the newspapers were right: snow was general all over Ireland. It was falling on every part of the dark central plain, on the treeless hills, falling softly upon the Bog of Allen and, farther westward, softly falling into the dark mutinous Shannon waves. It was falling, too, upon every part of the lonely churchyard on the hill where Michael Furey lay buried. It lay thickly drifted on the crooked crosses and headstones, on the spears of the little gate, on the barren thorns. His soul swooned slowly as he heard the snow falling faintly through the universe and faintly falling, like the descent of their last end, upon all the living and the dead.

make it stop :vomit

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