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Don't you know gast? he's going to make teh secks with his bearded wood elf.
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Art Make the sex with a bearded wood elf Maybe SxSw.stuffs Trailerfood or, if I'm good, Ms P's Electric Cock (oh god yes) Dj mix _ brainfood .wikki wikki wikki SW:ToR Make sleep. |
what you are doing this weekend?
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i have a free day tomorrow
if i can get a car fixed will go to paris with friend who has driverlinces rent a car?? if it's not too expensive tonight chilling here been working all week gonna take it easy |
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Art Make the sex with a bearded wood elf Maybe SxSw.stuffs Trailerfood or, if I'm good, Ms P's Electric Cock (oh god yes) Dj mix _ brainfood . wikki wikki wikki SW:ToR Make sleep. |
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Why did the bartender cross the road? His bus ride home was on the other side. |
If you had a choice between friends who made lightsabers for you or ones who made cybernetics, which would you choose??
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My wife is a bartender who rides the bus. How dare you make light of her plight. |
Like, cybernetic implants?
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Man walks into a bar. The bartender says, "Hey, what do think this is? A bar?! I have to ride the bus home. Don't make light of my plight. I'm somebody's wife, too." |
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Man walks up to an airport security guard and asks, "How Can I Travel Overseas Without a Passport?"
"Is it because of your political record?" the guard asks in reply. Silence. "On the ground with your hands behind your back!" the guard yells. "Now!" |
A landspeeder walks in a bus.
"Hey, what do you think this is, a bar?" the chicken asks. Your panties, now, please. |
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Hmm. Tough choice. I need more information. Which group of friends is more attractive (either collectively or individually)? Which group has more money (that it would be willing to spend on you)? |
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"I'm not wearing any panties," the chicken replies. The landspeeder gasps in orgasmic surprise. "Wanker," the chicken says. |
They are all equally attractive and obey my every command.
One is a giant lizard, with a lisp. |
A giant lizard walks into panties.
[/thread] |
Why do you have to choose?
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ecuse me
i was talking to evol about what he's going to do |
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Evol will be doing same thing as every weekend.
1) score drugs 2) find a way out of the El Milagro factory. 3) play washed up video games 4) in police custody |
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I'm sorry... have we met? |
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But you can still cross to the other side, right? |
No. Absolutely not.
Hence my dilema. |
I really think you're overthinking this. Just do what feels right. There is no right or wrong decision in matters such as this--there is only a decision.
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God. Yr yoda.
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Well....this weekend is going to only consist of #3. Sorry to disappoint. EDIT: Actually #1 may happen through a stroke of luck. I might get a few shrooms fer tomorrow. If not, I'm probably going to play some vidya games at teh arcade. But that's tomorrow. Tonight.....uhhh take a bike ride at 10 see what happens from there. There you are gast. Are you gonna be meetin' up with the chickys this weekend gast? Spit mad game.... |
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Yr welcome! |
no, the girl i met online lives in italy
have a chat with her getting to know her and stuff i have a bike plan for tomorrow going to a nature park can't get a car rent for this weekend so a trip to paris will be for the next weeks |
mine are usually boring. I'm not very adequate when it comes to finding things to do on my spare time. I also hate shiny rooms.
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Where'd Robert Schenck go?
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You're not German, are you. |
LOL. You should have pulled out a black notebook, looked very sternly at them, and asked for their addresses.
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good link. the url had my hopes up it was in canada though. |
Bagpipes and snares right next door. Why.
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Aww that's sweet of him.
Thanks god, but I'm not Irish, and don't kiss me. |
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Then you say, "Und vy do you ask, by the vay? (Slight pause and a sick smile.) I am just asking out of curiosity, of course..." And while you say this you pull out the black notebook (it must be black!) and act like you are recording every word they say. |
I can't believe nobody here has the cultural knowledge, or the lack of self-obsession, to be able to answer my question about the history of alcohol advertising in the New Yorker since 1973. My God. Don't you people have a real life?
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