Profesionali playertti of Defenders of the Agnolotti
twitchquotes:hello, il mio nome is GIROLAMO SAVORANOLA I my italiano. I want be profesionali playeretti of Defenders of the Agnolotti. the I sold all my spaghetti so i can bought a branderini new coputterini and farma all gaems. Per favore no coperinato pasterinato caramel macchiato
hello, il mio nome is GIROLAMO SAVORANOLA I my italiano. I want be profesionali playeretti of Defenders of the Agnolotti. the I sold all my spaghetti so i can bought a branderini new coputterini and farma all gaems. Per favore no coperinato pasterinato caramel macchiato
"Dick in palm, tissues rigged, with this chant I summon GiG."
Horny during Space Jam 2
OK so I was watching space jam 2 and I got RANDOMLY horny. I didnβt wanna exit the movie so I just waited till the Lola scene came up. It came. I started JACKING the SHIT out my pecker. And then.. I ACCIDENTLY NUTTED TO LEBRONππππππππππππππ
OK so I was watching space jam 2 and I got RANDOMLY horny. I didnβt wanna exit the movie so I just waited till the Lola scene came up. It came. I started JACKING the SHIT out my pecker. And then.. I ACCIDENTLY NUTTED TO LEBRONππππππππππππππ
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."