Posted: Thu Nov 05, 2009 3:34 pmcamra crew, production staff, and anyone unfortunate enough to be in the area. After the orgy she was so overwhelmed of her decision she.....
Page 5 of 6
Posted: Thu Nov 05, 2009 3:34 pmPosted: Thu Nov 05, 2009 10:15 pmdecided that it was time to let the public know that it wasn't her at all! Turns out that it was that whining little prick Jon! He tried to trash Kate even further than he already had. He's such a douche bag and it turns out that he took Kate's when he abandoned the family! The first thing he used it for was...
Posted: Sat Nov 07, 2009 10:56 amWhat the Hell????
Posted: Wed Nov 11, 2009 12:47 am...to make bathtub gin. After that he filled it with helium and inhaled it. But rather than sounding like Donald Duck, he sounded like...
NOTE: Billy, go to the beginning and start reading. If you still don't get it, don't worry. We are just excercising the right of free press along with the 2nd ammendment.
NOTE: Billy, go to the beginning and start reading. If you still don't get it, don't worry. We are just excercising the right of free press along with the 2nd ammendment.
Posted: Sun Dec 13, 2009 6:51 amScooby Dooby Doo, and you know how he loves his scooby snacks. But I always really wondered what was in those things....
Posted: Fri Jan 22, 2010 12:28 am...but I never stopped to read the label.
The producers are STILL trying to figure out why Jon was out that late in that neighborhood. The chief of police is chained to her desk pending further...
The producers are STILL trying to figure out why Jon was out that late in that neighborhood. The chief of police is chained to her desk pending further...
Posted: Tue Jan 26, 2010 9:57 am...decided to follow that f***in' damn bastard
son of a silage-drunken quail descended cock-roosting rooster
chicken accross the road.
That chicken's been crossing that ******** road for so many
friggin' years without no body ever finding out for certian just what that damn bird was doin' over there...
I trailed that rooster for almost a full mile until I finally closed
in on this feathery prick.
Silently, I watched him jump through a small opening in a
hedgerow about ten paces ahead of me.
I proceded to the opening, and peered through...
"Holy shit! It's a friggin"...
son of a silage-drunken quail descended cock-roosting rooster
chicken accross the road.
That chicken's been crossing that ******** road for so many
friggin' years without no body ever finding out for certian just what that damn bird was doin' over there...
I trailed that rooster for almost a full mile until I finally closed
in on this feathery prick.
Silently, I watched him jump through a small opening in a
hedgerow about ten paces ahead of me.
I proceded to the opening, and peered through...
"Holy shit! It's a friggin"...
Posted: Wed Jan 27, 2010 2:55 am...shyte...posted that on the WRONG thread...the chicken and road thing... so... lessee...
...her desk pending further... the effects of the WD40 and
Ol' Gran'Pa Mooses' Musket Oil fumes inhaled while she was
cleaning her trusted ol'...
...her desk pending further... the effects of the WD40 and
Ol' Gran'Pa Mooses' Musket Oil fumes inhaled while she was
cleaning her trusted ol'...
Posted: Wed Feb 24, 2010 8:32 pmbattery operated "nightstick" with the raised 6 right twist.
Meanwhile, on the other side of town
Meanwhile, on the other side of town
Posted: Mon Mar 01, 2010 2:48 pmthe phone rang loudly and quite annoyingly
over the quench-tank in the black-smithys' shop
as it hung on a spike- which had been driven
through the twelve-inch square soot-covered
post by a three guage punt-gun back in 1878
during the drunken brawl of a wedding party
gone terribly...normal, for that period of time.
Grime and sweat-stream etched soot covered
his ruddy and sullen face, tongs and hammer
in hand as the fired steel glowed in a near white-
hot intensity- still sparkling from the repeated
and deft blows of the skilled craftsman.
A dull growl came from deep in his chest as
his gaze drifted from the glowing damascene
billet, destined to become a premier
Bowie hunting blade of three steels,
on towards the direction of the phones' nagging,
irritating call- which Police Chief Sally had
managed with some difficulty, to make...
"The steel must be struck!" He thought.
"It cannot be interupted at this stage."
He growled, thinking out loud.
"Brenda! Clyde! One uh yuh get that
giddamn phone... Now!" He thundered. ...
over the quench-tank in the black-smithys' shop
as it hung on a spike- which had been driven
through the twelve-inch square soot-covered
post by a three guage punt-gun back in 1878
during the drunken brawl of a wedding party
gone terribly...normal, for that period of time.
Grime and sweat-stream etched soot covered
his ruddy and sullen face, tongs and hammer
in hand as the fired steel glowed in a near white-
hot intensity- still sparkling from the repeated
and deft blows of the skilled craftsman.
A dull growl came from deep in his chest as
his gaze drifted from the glowing damascene
billet, destined to become a premier
Bowie hunting blade of three steels,
on towards the direction of the phones' nagging,
irritating call- which Police Chief Sally had
managed with some difficulty, to make...
"The steel must be struck!" He thought.
"It cannot be interupted at this stage."
He growled, thinking out loud.
"Brenda! Clyde! One uh yuh get that
giddamn phone... Now!" He thundered. ...