:rofl::rofl::rofl:
The last person to post here WINS!
- Thread starter dave_rhino
- Start date
-
- Tags
- alisa queen of em all all bow before jon! bmh is thw winner brodkil > god brodkill rules all cats rule! games irrelevant tags jon is god! l3ggy älskar tidelag last person post wins lupines > felines no winner but ulysses31 pk always wins baby rane wins always. tittyman won toc triumphs vv wins! vv=fuckwit
:rofl::rofl::rofl:
Smittmaestro
Center of the fothermucking universe
No matter where you go there you are!
-cs™
-cs™
So far, this is the oldest I've been.
back in the sadle ...
I quit my job today
Good for you.
Thank you BB :hatsoff:
PlasmaTwa2
The Second-Hottest Man in my ******'s Basement
Now you have plenty more time to spend on FreeOnes. EVery man's *****.
PlasmaTwa2
The Second-Hottest Man in my ******'s Basement
Me Plasma Twa 2
dick van cock
Closed Account
Ha! Here comes PlasmaTwa I.
Or....I could find another job, marry a wholesome woman of average breeding and start a ******. I'll buy an MPV (or minivan you may call it in the U.S. of A) and a modest house. Then, maybe, raise my 2 average ******** in the country, buy a small fishing boat and spend my weekends cutting the grass, painting the fence, putting up shelves or taking the ******** to football practice (that's soccer to our cousins across the pond) and the ***.
After a few years, when my hair starts turning grey, I would see my ******** less and less as they spend more and more time with their friends. I would actually see more of my ********'s teachers, putting right their playground indescretions, and continually absent homework. Time draws on and I see less and less of my wife. She's continually off at the gym or bingo or some other such girly thing.
As the years pass, and the hairs get greyer, I would only get to see my ******** at the weekends when I visit them because I've been separated from my wife for sometime now. She was not at bingo at all, but sucking off the trainer at the gym she went to, and yet she get's the house in the settlement, whilst I live in a bedsit, surrounded by hippies and druggies, and lay awake at night and ponder where my life went wrong.
The hair starts to recede up my forehead now and a bald patch appears upon my crown. I find it difficult to maintain relationships and my penis becomes flacid and unuseable most nights through the excessive ******* and tobacco ***** I've taken to in my loneliness and boredom.
After some time, I reach deep within myself to find the answer to it all, and after two failed attempts to end my lousey existence I take out a huge loan with a moneylender to buy a 2 seater sports convertible. I'm in full blow mid-life crisis. Speeding around from ******** bar to nightclub in the search of some hot young blonde in some vain attempt to recapture my carefree and much younger years.
Time wears on, and the hairs start falling out, the search for a younger woman has left me with contempt from my ********, two broken hands once the moneylender called in the debt on the sportscar, and to top it off the sports cars is too low for me to get in and out of without hurting my sore back. My joints creek and my limbs ache, I find it hard to open jars as arthritis has beset my liver spotted hands.
I'm now consigned to walk the streets in cardigans and trousers that are slightly too short, revealling my new found love of white socks. And with black shoes! The shame. But I'm old now and have adpoted the age old rite of every pension collecting fogey of the UK - senility. Now I can gleefully approach complete strangers and recite stories of "when I was a young man, all this was fields", or ******** lollipops to any ***** I meet, only to have the parents whip them out of their hands and throw them distainfully to the floor screaming at their now bemused ***** to "not take sweets from that strange man".
I can't remember the last time I saw my ********, I think they have families of their own now, but I can't remember. Was I married once? I forget. I have a lot of pictures from yester-year, but I can't put names to most of the faces.
I have now ****** senility in it's adorable sense. I smell of day old wee and minutes old ***, and stride miserably ****** those I once knew with no recollection of who they are or where I might have met them before.
As I ponder this daily question of "I know you from somewhere, don't I?", youngsters mock me, parents withdraw their ******** from me in fear and local social workers try to herd me into the nearest day care centre, in the vain hope of feeding my pureed potato and sweetcorn for my lunch, which I will inevitably drool down one side of my chin and into my own lap.
It's dark now. I can't feel my legs or arms for the cold. I **** up on a pile of rubbsh in a street under the by-pass, with a numbness that fills me with dread. Suddenly, a light flashes ahead of me and I find myself walking towards it... The doors to the shelter open and a woman walks out calling for those of us outside to enter for free soup and a warm place to sit. I'm homeless and barking mad. My days are getting shorter and shorter, as I ***** more and more. I'm so tired...I can't go on living on scraps and handouts.
I've ****** now and am approaching St Peter with my arms held aloft. He asks only one question of me "What is the meaning of life? Answer and you may enter". Filled with awe, I search for the answer but find none. My brain is addled from the transition from matter to light. My delay only serves to prove to St Peter that I know not the meaning of life.
I am cast down to hell to serve the remainder of enternity.
I win again :rofl:
Smittmaestro
Center of the fothermucking universe
Damn!
No you do not!
-cs™
No you do not!
-cs™
PlasmaTwa2
The Second-Hottest Man in my ******'s Basement
You made me afraid of growing old.
YEAH!!! I win!!!
Oh no your not ...
you've just been ****** by me ...
you've just been ****** by me ...
