My Grandfather smoked his whole life. I was about 10 years old when my mother said to him, 'If you ever want to see your grandchildren graduate, you have to stop immediately.'. Tears welled up in his eyes when he realized what exactly was at stake. He gave it up immediately. Three years later he died of lung cancer. It was really sad and destroyed me. My mother said to me- 'Don't ever smoke. Please don't put your family through what your Grandfather put us through." I agreed. At 28, I have never touched a cigarette. I must say, I feel a very slight sense of regret for never having done it, because your post gave me cancer anyway.
I used to be a real ad
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THE WRONG DONGERHOOD
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༼ ºل͟º༼ ºل͟º༼ ºل͟º ༽ºل͟º ༽ºل͟º ༽ YOU CAME TO THE WRONG DONGERHOOD ༼ ºل͟º༼ ºل͟º༼ ºل͟º ༽ºل͟º ༽ºل͟º ༽
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When you copy messages don't copy the name
DONT COPY THE You have been permanently banned from this channel
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You have been permanently banned from this channel ————————————————————————
You have been permanently banned from this channel ————————————————————————
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MODS
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I'm done with this chat
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That's it, I'm done. *** this chat. It's devolved into a mass of retarded copy pastes and face spam. The quality of twitch chat has been declining for a while, but this is the last straw. That's it. I'm done. I'm uninstalling the internet, chopping off my dick and moving to *** Antarctica, at least the bacteria there will be *** smarter discourse.
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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."