All threads that bitch about new, existing, or old members will be posted/relocated here. Keep this shit off the General forum, because no one wants (or cares) to hear your opinions. Now go back to the other forums and post something worthy of reading.
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it was a little cold out there......

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it is cold way cold. pipes frozen yesterday when I got home. 1 1/2 later the water runs. family ecstatic except 11 yr old son. shower time is what water means to him. Dress warm . windproof is great. layer. drive safe, keep it on the road. mittens look dorky but work. this should at least warm part of your soul like hot coffee.
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Mitch - how's this for cockney wang:
wank engine

Derives from the term "thomas the tank engine" but applied to a certain dandruffed overweight no-mum "thomas the wank engine" is appropriate as it describes his dirty habit of playing with his choad. if u are unsure of this other term look it up. CHOAD

i wouldnt mind choo choo-ing on jackies clit and emptying my tank load on her engine
Edit: - What the FUCK is attractive about that chick you posted above, neck to waist? Her face is ok, ass also. The middle portion is pure 12 year old concentration camp or Skeletor.

Confession: I just tried to take a big 'ol swig out of an unopened beer can, and pulled it away and stared at it, like it was the one who fucked up.
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By pbrstreetgang
RFA wrote:Confession: I just tried to take a big 'ol swig out of an unopened beer can, and pulled it away and stared at it, like it was the one who fucked up.
that is the funniest shit I've read on here in a while
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By austrotard
confession: I looked at a photo of this twat and immediately thought of our bwian.
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By jhnnythndr
hahaha- revisiting the old drakian celebrity lookalike idea- that i believe bwian put forward to begin with- but i forget which celebrity he claimed- he looks way more lime tk than whoever it was tho.
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By root wad
I'd have never guessed him to be smart enough to play the paddle. :coffee
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Pffffft. Ted Kaczynski like a fox....

Shunned wrote that about me after I called him tubby in a PM. He was hurting, and I apologized this morning. Poor little tyke has a complex about his weight.
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By austrotard
confession: I went to an oirish pub yesterday after work and today (well, very late hic last night to hic be truthful) I noticed I no longer have my wallet in my possession. I spent the morning putting holds on cards and watching my bank balances only for sweet bernadette to ring us back and tell us my wallet is sat in the pub's safe.
some kindly oirish person handed it in, wonga and all.

relates: now I have to give some bullshit reward to (like) the oirish republican army or u2 (or some shite).

elates: potatoes!

red hot tip: if you tell the banks they found your cards at the pub (oirish or not) they will cancel your cards anyway.
tight weekend for mitch.
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Confession: I'd fly to Perth IF:
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By austrotard
If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;
If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: “Hold on!”

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!

-not the fella who makes the cakes, the other one
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By pbrstreetgang
[quote="austrotard"]some kindly oirish person handed it in, wonga and all. [/quote]
We've got your address now, Orangeman

[quote="austrotard"]blah blah blah...Kipling[/quote]

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