Thursday, March 24, 2011

Masterbation In Girdle

Experiment conscientious

Out Now
the bark and run the self. Ex.
Eg. I would say that is just one example. But as we all know that the piece has not started yet. We're just the warm up. It seems to me the equivalent of a nice trip. Full of flash, splash, and maybe even cash. But best not to ask too much. So we do a trip that is literary fiction. Worthy, therefore, a laboratory narrative.
What then is precisely what our Diablog. What myself and anyone who wants to take part in the charade.
authors call them, but they are more like pals travel, sect Dead Poets. You know? Cool, no? And then all of these headings. Mamma mia! Mamma mia, that variety.

And a bit 'of days that I have in mind the image of Gaddafi dancing. In reality then is not Gaddafi. My memory is distorted by Tigga and newspapers, probably. I think a movie Moore own ends with a clip where you see Saddam Hussein dancing with his colonels or something. A little 'annoying, I'll tell you. Oh well ... I tell you? Gaddafi, yes, I was looking for web image of him as she dances or does something like this, I do not know.
Why I'd make a fumettino, like those of James & Arnold, says Gadaffi should this rhyme:

Giro ride round
and burn the world.
War broke out
all underground.

E 'something a bit' grim and cynical, perhaps, but I have it on her, and I want to keep here on the blog.

Beyond the rhyme, I thought of introducing a little 'satire. I do not know. In fact I have never in my life satire. Also because I have never been so close to having to fish even among politicians to baste a ridiculous scene. I have always got away with the clowns for the hobby.
So I do not know, I will think. What do you say? Can there be?

Meanwhile we go on like this, because you do not change a winning formula.

you? Suggestions? Ideas? We
this post contains the opinions of the readers.
leave comments, write to, dare, dirty this post with your whims, your fantasies, complaints, bad language, dreams, poems, the tongue twister, the lump in my throat, crying, feelings, and the gossips gossip, stories, the paranoia, the lies, the lecture, the good old gossip, half-truths, sayings and proverbs, and those toads swallowed spit, the lies, the songs, the theories and the curses, the chronicles, the highs, the rava and stone.
Well, boys, let our cocks.
We've sugared the opportunity to not happen again and again.


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