twitchquotes:Honestly, that's what I call a cool story bro. Such a riveting tale, I honestly copy and pasted it to word, saved on my hard drive, backed it up on a jump drive, drove to the bank, put the jump drive in the safe deposit box, and will leave it there until my kids turn about 12 (when they can actually state their age, and ask what it is I'm showing them), when I will pick it up, put it in an old USB drive reader and relay this cool story to them and tell them, "kids, this is what a cool story should look and sound like...not like the stories your generation tells.
Honestly, that's what I call a cool story bro. Such a riveting tale, I honestly copy and pasted it to word, saved on my hard drive, backed it up on a jump drive, drove to the bank, put the jump drive in the safe deposit box, and will leave it there until my kids turn about 12 (when they can actually state their age, and ask what it is I'm showing them), when I will pick it up, put it in an old USB drive reader and relay this cool story to them and tell them, "kids, this is what a cool story should look and sound like...not like the stories your generation tells.
Gr8 b8 m8
twitchquotes:Gr8 b8, m8. I rel8, str8 appreci8, and congratul8. I r8 this b8 an 8/8. Plz no h8, I'm str8 ir8. Cre8 more, can't w8. We should convers8, I won't ber8, my number is 8888888, ask for N8. No calls l8 or out of st8. If on a d8, ask K8 to loc8. Even with a full pl8, I always have time to communic8 so don't hesit8, I hope you r8 8/8 .. m8.
Gr8 b8, m8. I rel8, str8 appreci8, and congratul8. I r8 this b8 an 8/8. Plz no h8, I'm str8 ir8. Cre8 more, can't w8. We should convers8, I won't ber8, my number is 8888888, ask for N8. No calls l8 or out of st8. If on a d8, ask K8 to loc8. Even with a full pl8, I always have time to communic8 so don't hesit8, I hope you r8 8/8 .. m8.
Forgive English, I am Russia
forgive english, i am Russia.
i come to study clothing and fashion at American university. i am here little time and i am very hard stress. i am gay also and this very difficult for me, i am very religion person. i never act to be gay with other men before. but after i am in america 6 weeks i am my friend together he is gay also. He was show me American fashion and then we are kiss.
We sex together. I never before now am tell my mother about gay because i am very shame. As i fock this American boy it is very good to me but also i am feel so guilty. I feel extreme guilty as I begin orgasm. I feel so guilty that I pick up my telephone and call Mother in Russia. I awaken her. It too late for stopping so I am cumming sex. I am very upset and guilty and crying, so I yell her, "I AM CUM FROM SEX" (in Russia). She say what? I say "I AM CUM FROM SEX" and she say you boy, do not marry American girl, and I say "NO I AM CUM FROM SEX WITH MAN, I AM IN ASS, I CUM IN ASS" and my mother very angry me. She not get scared though.
I hang up phone and am very embarrass. My friend also he is very embarrass. I am guilt and feel very stupid. I wonder, why do I gay with man? But I continue because when it spurt it feel very good in American ass.
forgive english, i am Russia.
i come to study clothing and fashion at American university. i am here little time and i am very hard stress. i am gay also and this very difficult for me, i am very religion person. i never act to be gay with other men before. but after i am in america 6 weeks i am my friend together he is gay also. He was show me American fashion and then we are kiss.
We sex together. I never before now am tell my mother about gay because i am very shame. As i fock this American boy it is very good to me but also i am feel so guilty. I feel extreme guilty as I begin orgasm. I feel so guilty that I pick up my telephone and call Mother in Russia. I awaken her. It too late for stopping so I am cumming sex. I am very upset and guilty and crying, so I yell her, "I AM CUM FROM SEX" (in Russia). She say what? I say "I AM CUM FROM SEX" and she say you boy, do not marry American girl, and I say "NO I AM CUM FROM SEX WITH MAN, I AM IN ASS, I CUM IN ASS" and my mother very angry me. She not get scared though.
I hang up phone and am very embarrass. My friend also he is very embarrass. I am guilt and feel very stupid. I wonder, why do I gay with man? But I continue because when it spurt it feel very good in American ass.
Natalie Portman is the reason I work out
Natalie Portman is the reason I work out. I have this fantasy where we start talking at the Vanity Fair Oscars party bar. We exchange a few pleasantries. She asks what I do. I say I loved her in New Girl. She laughs. I get my drink.
"Well, see ya," I say and walk away. I've got her attention now. How many guys voluntarily leave a conversation with Natalie Portman? She touches her neck as she watches me leave.
Later, as the night's dragged on and the coterie of gorgeous narcissists grows increasingly loose, she finds me on the balcony, my bowtie undone, smoking a cigarette.
"Got a spare?" she asks.
"What's in it for me?" I say as I hand her one of my little white ladies. She smiles.
"Conversation with me, duh."
I laugh.
"What's so funny?" she protests.
"Nothing, nothing... It's just... don't you grow tired of the egos?"
"You get used to it," she says, lighting her cigarette and handing me back the lighter.
"What would you do if you weren't an actress?" I ask.
"Teaching, I think."
"And if I was your student, what would I be learning?"
"Discipline," she says quickly, looking up into my eyes, before changing the subject. "Where are you from?"
"Bermuda," I say.
"Oh wow. That's lovely."
"It's ok," I admit. "Not everything is to my liking."
"What could possibly be not to your liking in Bermuda?" she inquires.
"I don't like sand," I tell her. "It's coarse and rough and irritating and it gets everywhere."
Natalie Portman is the reason I work out. I have this fantasy where we start talking at the Vanity Fair Oscars party bar. We exchange a few pleasantries. She asks what I do. I say I loved her in New Girl. She laughs. I get my drink.
"Well, see ya," I say and walk away. I've got her attention now. How many guys voluntarily leave a conversation with Natalie Portman? She touches her neck as she watches me leave.
Later, as the night's dragged on and the coterie of gorgeous narcissists grows increasingly loose, she finds me on the balcony, my bowtie undone, smoking a cigarette.
"Got a spare?" she asks.
"What's in it for me?" I say as I hand her one of my little white ladies. She smiles.
"Conversation with me, duh."
I laugh.
"What's so funny?" she protests.
"Nothing, nothing... It's just... don't you grow tired of the egos?"
"You get used to it," she says, lighting her cigarette and handing me back the lighter.
"What would you do if you weren't an actress?" I ask.
"Teaching, I think."
"And if I was your student, what would I be learning?"
"Discipline," she says quickly, looking up into my eyes, before changing the subject. "Where are you from?"
"Bermuda," I say.
"Oh wow. That's lovely."
"It's ok," I admit. "Not everything is to my liking."
"What could possibly be not to your liking in Bermuda?" she inquires.
"I don't like sand," I tell her. "It's coarse and rough and irritating and it gets everywhere."
Why is six afraid of seven? Six hasn't been the same since he left Vietnam
Why is six afraid of seven?
Six hasn't been the same since he left Vietnam. He can seldom close his eyes without opening them again at fear of Charlies lurking in the jungle trees. Not that you could ever see the bastards, mind you. They were swift, and they knew their way around the jungle like nothing else. He remembers the looks on the boys' faces as he walked into that village and... oh, Jesus. The memories seldom left him, either. Sometimes he'd reminisce - even hear - Tex's southern drawl. He remembers the smell of Brooklyn's cigarettes like nothing else. He always kept a pack of Lucky's with him. The boys are gone, now. He knows that; it's just that he forgets, sometimes. And, every now and then, the way that seven looks at him with avid concern in his eyes... it makes him think. Sets him on edge. Makes him feel like he's back there... in the jungle.
Why is six afraid of seven?
Six hasn't been the same since he left Vietnam. He can seldom close his eyes without opening them again at fear of Charlies lurking in the jungle trees. Not that you could ever see the bastards, mind you. They were swift, and they knew their way around the jungle like nothing else. He remembers the looks on the boys' faces as he walked into that village and... oh, Jesus. The memories seldom left him, either. Sometimes he'd reminisce - even hear - Tex's southern drawl. He remembers the smell of Brooklyn's cigarettes like nothing else. He always kept a pack of Lucky's with him. The boys are gone, now. He knows that; it's just that he forgets, sometimes. And, every now and then, the way that seven looks at him with avid concern in his eyes... it makes him think. Sets him on edge. Makes him feel like he's back there... in the jungle.