# Break-up letter



## Corry (Sep 11, 2006)

...found this on another forum, thought it would be fun! 

ok, here are the rules. simple....

each person adds 4 words (ONLY 4... makes is more fun) to the last post to make up a silly/funny/mean/whatever-you-want-it-to-be "break-up letter"

this is a really funny way to see how creative you can get.

Ill start:


Dearest lover,
*I'm leaving you because*


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## LaFoto (Sep 11, 2006)

only yesterday you ate


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## Corry (Sep 11, 2006)

Try and keep the whole letter together, just add to it.  (makes for easier reading)

Dearest lover,
I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate


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## LaFoto (Sep 11, 2006)

Dearest lover,
I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate *the last of my*


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## Becky (Sep 11, 2006)

Dearest lover,
I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my *brand new hamster Jack.*


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## wolfepakt (Sep 11, 2006)

Dearest lover,
I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my brand new hamster Jack*'s cage liner paper*


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## JDS (Sep 11, 2006)

Dearest lover,
I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my brand new hamster Jack's cage liner paper. *You didn't even bother*


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## Becky (Sep 11, 2006)

Dearest lover,
I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my brand new hamster Jack's cage liner paper. You didn't even bother *brushing your teeth after
*


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## wolfepakt (Sep 11, 2006)

Dearest lover,
I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my brand new hamster Jack's cage liner paper. You didn't even bother brushing your teeth after *eating, and before kising*


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## Becky (Sep 11, 2006)

Dearest lover,
I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my brand new hamster Jack's cage liner paper. You didn't even bother brushing your teeth after eating, and before kissing *my sisters boyfriends aunt*


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## MommyOf4Boys (Sep 11, 2006)

Dearest Lover,
I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my brand new hampter Jack's cage liner paper.  You didn't even bother brushing your teeth after eating, and before kissing my sister's boyfriend's aunt *who stole my last boyfriend by*


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## Corry (Sep 11, 2006)

MommyOf4Boys said:
			
		

> Dearest Lover,
> I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my brand new hampter Jack's cage liner paper.  You didn't even bother brushing your teeth after eating, and before kissing my sister's boyfriend's aunt *who stole my last boyfriend by*



Pssst! Only four words at a time! 


I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my brand new hampter Jack's cage liner paper.  You didn't even bother brushing your teeth after eating, and before kissing my sister's boyfriend's aunt who stole my last boyfriend by *cooking him delicious apple*


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## Becky (Sep 11, 2006)

I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my brand new hampter Jack's cage liner paper. You didn't even bother brushing your teeth after eating, and before kissing my sister's boyfriend's aunt who stole my last boyfriend by cooking him delicious apple *body paint, which she
*


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## midget patrol (Sep 11, 2006)

I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my brand new hampter Jack's cage liner paper. You didn't even bother brushing your teeth after eating, and before kissing my sister's boyfriend's aunt who stole my last boyfriend by cooking him delicious apple body paint, which she painted on the cieling.


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## JDS (Sep 11, 2006)

I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my brand new hampster Jack's cage liner paper. You didn't even bother brushing your teeth after eating, and before kissing my sister's boyfriend's aunt who stole my last boyfriend by cooking him delicious apple body paint, which she painted on the cieling.

*Anyway, I digress.  We*


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## mentos_007 (Sep 11, 2006)

I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my brand new hampster Jack's cage liner paper. You didn't even bother brushing your teeth after eating, and before kissing my sister's boyfriend's aunt who stole my last boyfriend by cooking him delicious apple body paint, which she painted on the cieling.

Anyway, I digress. We *decided not to have any*


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## PlasticSpanner (Sep 11, 2006)

I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my brand new hampster Jack's cage liner paper. You didn't even bother brushing your teeth after eating, and before kissing my sister's boyfriend's aunt who stole my last boyfriend by cooking him delicious apple body paint, which she painted on the cieling.

Anyway, I digress. We decided not to have any *pets because of your *


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## Becky (Sep 11, 2006)

I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my brand new hampster Jack's cage liner paper. You didn't even bother brushing your teeth after eating, and before kissing my sister's boyfriend's aunt who stole my last boyfriend by cooking him delicious apple body paint, which she painted on the cieling.

Anyway, I digress. We decided not to have any pets because of your* stupid allergy to fur
*​


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## ShootHoops (Sep 11, 2006)

I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my brand new hampster Jack's cage liner paper. You didn't even bother brushing your teeth after eating, and before kissing my sister's boyfriend's aunt who stole my last boyfriend by cooking him delicious apple body paint, which she painted on the cieling.​ 
Anyway, I digress. We decided not to have any pets because of your stupid allergy to fur*bies and other fuzzy*​


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## morydd (Sep 11, 2006)

I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my brand new hampster Jack's cage liner paper. You didn't even bother brushing your teeth after eating, and before kissing my sister's boyfriend's aunt who stole my last boyfriend by cooking him delicious apple body paint, which she painted on the cieling.

Anyway, I digress. We decided not to have any pets because of your stupid allergy to furbies and other fuzzy *figments of your imagination*


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## GoM (Sep 11, 2006)

I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my brand new hampster Jack's cage liner paper. You didn't even bother brushing your teeth after eating, and before kissing my sister's boyfriend's aunt who stole my last boyfriend by cooking him delicious apple body paint, which she painted on the cieling.

Anyway, I digress. We decided not to have any pets because of your stupid allergy to furbies and other fuzzy figments of your imagination *forevermore also known as*


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## ShootHoops (Sep 11, 2006)

I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my brand new hampster Jack's cage liner paper. You didn't even bother brushing your teeth after eating, and before kissing my sister's boyfriend's aunt who stole my last boyfriend by cooking him delicious apple body paint, which she painted on the cieling.

Anyway, I digress. We decided not to have any pets because of your stupid allergy to furbies and other fuzzy figments of your imagination forevermore also known as *farting of the brain*


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## MommyOf4Boys (Sep 11, 2006)

I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my brand new hampster Jack's cage liner paper. You didn't even bother brushing your teeth after eating, and before kissing my sister's boyfriend's aunt who stole my last boyfriend by cooking him delicious apple body paint, which she painted on the cieling.

Anyway, I digress. We decided not to have any pets because of your stupid allergy to furbies and other fuzzy figments of your imagination forevermore also known as farting of the brain - *something you became aware*


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## clarinetJWD (Sep 11, 2006)

I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my brand new hampster Jack's cage liner paper. You didn't even bother brushing your teeth after eating, and before kissing my sister's boyfriend's aunt who stole my last boyfriend by cooking him delicious apple body paint, which she painted on the cieling.

Anyway, I digress. We decided not to have any pets because of your stupid allergy to furbies and other fuzzy figments of your imagination forevermore also known as farting of the brain - something you became aware *of back in 1927*


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## EBphotography (Sep 11, 2006)

I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my brand new hampster Jack's cage liner paper. You didn't even bother brushing your teeth after eating, and before kissing my sister's boyfriend's aunt who stole my last boyfriend by cooking him delicious apple body paint, which she painted on the cieling.

Anyway, I digress. We decided not to have any pets because of your stupid allergy to furbies and other fuzzy figments of your imagination forevermore also known as farting of the brain - something you became aware of back in 1927* when you fell on*


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## DeepSpring (Sep 11, 2006)

I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my brand new hampster Jack's cage liner paper. You didn't even bother brushing your teeth after eating, and before kissing my sister's boyfriend's aunt who stole my last boyfriend by cooking him delicious apple body paint, which she painted on the cieling.

Anyway, I digress. We decided not to have any pets because of your stupid allergy to furbies and other fuzzy figments of your imagination forevermore also known as farting of the brain - something you became aware of back in 1927when you fell on *a guitar. The guitar*


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## oldnavy170 (Sep 11, 2006)

I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my brand new hampster Jack's cage liner paper. You didn't even bother brushing your teeth after eating, and before kissing my sister's boyfriend's aunt who stole my last boyfriend by cooking him delicious apple body paint, which she painted on the cieling.

Anyway, I digress. We decided not to have any pets because of your stupid allergy to furbies anthat you stole fromd other fuzzy figments of your imagination forevermore also known as farting of the brain - something you became aware of back in 1927when you fell on *a *guitar. The guitar *that you stole from*


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## ShootHoops (Sep 11, 2006)

I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my brand new hampster Jack's cage liner paper. You didn't even bother brushing your teeth after eating, and before kissing my sister's boyfriend's aunt who stole my last boyfriend by cooking him delicious apple body paint, which she painted on the cieling.

Anyway, I digress. We decided not to have any pets because of your stupid allergy to furbies anthat you stole fromd other fuzzy figments of your imagination forevermore also known as farting of the brain - something you became aware of back in 1927when you fell on *a *guitar. The guitar that you stole from *Lynard Skynard,* *before their*


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## MommyOf4Boys (Sep 11, 2006)

I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my brand new hampster Jack's cage liner paper. You didn't even bother brushing your teeth after eating, and before kissing my sister's boyfriend's aunt who stole my last boyfriend by cooking him delicious apple body paint, which she painted on the cieling.

Anyway, I digress. We decided not to have any pets because of your stupid allergy to furbies anthat you stole fromd other fuzzy figments of your imagination forevermore also known as farting of the brain - something you became aware of back in 1927when you fell on aguitar. The guitar that you stole from Lynard Skynard, before their *herpes outbreak became public*


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## morydd (Sep 11, 2006)

I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my brand new hampster Jack's cage liner paper. You didn't even bother brushing your teeth after eating, and before kissing my sister's boyfriend's aunt who stole my last boyfriend by cooking him delicious apple body paint, which she painted on the cieling.

Anyway, I digress. We decided not to have any pets because of your stupid allergy to furbies and other fuzzy figments of your imagination forevermore also known as farting of the brain - something you became aware of back in 1927when you fell on aguitar. The guitar that you stole from Lynard Skynard, before their herpes outbreak became public *and the chickens got*


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## JTHphoto (Sep 12, 2006)

I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my brand new hampster Jack's cage liner paper. You didn't even bother brushing your teeth after eating, and before kissing my sister's boyfriend's aunt who stole my last boyfriend by cooking him delicious apple body paint, which she painted on the cieling.

Anyway, I digress. We decided not to have any pets because of your stupid allergy to furbies and other fuzzy figments of your imagination forevermore also known as farting of the brain - something you became aware of back in 1927when you fell on aguitar. The guitar that you stole from Lynard Skynard, before their herpes outbreak became public and the chickens got *blamed. *

*I really despise*


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## Corry (Sep 12, 2006)

I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my brand new hampster Jack's cage liner paper. You didn't even bother brushing your teeth after eating, and before kissing my sister's boyfriend's aunt who stole my last boyfriend by cooking him delicious apple body paint, which she painted on the cieling.

Anyway, I digress. We decided not to have any pets because of your stupid allergy to furbies and other fuzzy figments of your imagination forevermore also known as farting of the brain - something you became aware of back in 1927when you fell on aguitar. The guitar that you stole from Lynard Skynard, before their herpes outbreak became public and the chickens got blamed.

I really despise *you and your purple*


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## LaFoto (Sep 12, 2006)

I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my brand new hampster Jack's cage liner paper. You didn't even bother brushing your teeth after eating, and before kissing my sister's boyfriend's aunt who stole my last boyfriend by cooking him delicious apple body paint, which she painted on the cieling.

Anyway, I digress. We decided not to have any pets because of your stupid allergy to furbies and other fuzzy figments of your imagination forevermore also known as farting of the brain - something you became aware of back in 1927when you fell on aguitar. The guitar that you stole from Lynard Skynard, before their herpes outbreak became public and the chickens got blamed.

I really despise you and your purple* PJs with the bottom*


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## Becky (Sep 12, 2006)

I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my brand new hampster Jack's cage liner paper. You didn't even bother brushing your teeth after eating, and before kissing my sister's boyfriend's aunt who stole my last boyfriend by cooking him delicious apple body paint, which she painted on the cieling.

Anyway, I digress. We decided not to have any pets because of your stupid allergy to furbies and other fuzzy figments of your imagination forevermore also known as farting of the brain - something you became aware of back in 1927when you fell on aguitar. The guitar that you stole from Lynard Skynard, before their herpes outbreak became public and the chickens got blamed.

I really despise you and your purple PJs with the bottom *cutout, who knows why

:lmao:
*


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## morydd (Sep 12, 2006)

I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my brand new hampster Jack's cage liner paper. You didn't even bother brushing your teeth after eating, and before kissing my sister's boyfriend's aunt who stole my last boyfriend by cooking him delicious apple body paint, which she painted on the cieling.

Anyway, I digress. We decided not to have any pets because of your stupid allergy to furbies and other fuzzy figments of your imagination forevermore also known as farting of the brain - something you became aware of back in 1927when you fell on aguitar. The guitar that you stole from Lynard Skynard, before their herpes outbreak became public and the chickens got blamed.

I really despise you and your purple PJs with the bottom cutout, who knows why, *when you just wet*


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## mad_malteaser (Sep 12, 2006)

I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my brand new hampster Jack's cage liner paper. You didn't even bother brushing your teeth after eating, and before kissing my sister's boyfriend's aunt who stole my last boyfriend by cooking him delicious apple body paint, which she painted on the cieling.

Anyway, I digress. We decided not to have any pets because of your stupid allergy to furbies and other fuzzy figments of your imagination forevermore also known as farting of the brain - something you became aware of back in 1927when you fell on aguitar. The guitar that you stole from Lynard Skynard, before their herpes outbreak became public and the chickens got blamed.

I really despise you and your purple PJs with the bottom cutout, who knows why, when you just wet *the sheets last week*


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## lostprophet (Sep 13, 2006)

I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my brand new hampster Jack's cage liner paper. You didn't even bother brushing your teeth after eating, and before kissing my sister's boyfriend's aunt who stole my last boyfriend by cooking him delicious apple body paint, which she painted on the cieling.

Anyway, I digress. We decided not to have any pets because of your stupid allergy to furbies and other fuzzy figments of your imagination forevermore also known as farting of the brain - something you became aware of back in 1927when you fell on aguitar. The guitar that you stole from Lynard Skynard, before their herpes outbreak became public and the chickens got blamed.

I really despise you and your purple PJs with the bottom cutout, who knows why, when you just wet the sheets last week *whilst counting the number*


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## Cheese (Sep 13, 2006)

I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my brand new hampster Jack's cage liner paper. You didn't even bother brushing your teeth after eating, and before kissing my sister's boyfriend's aunt who stole my last boyfriend by cooking him delicious apple body paint, which she painted on the cieling.

Anyway, I digress. We decided not to have any pets because of your stupid allergy to furbies and other fuzzy figments of your imagination forevermore also known as farting of the brain - something you became aware of back in 1927when you fell on aguitar. The guitar that you stole from Lynard Skynard, before their herpes outbreak became public and the chickens got blamed.

I really despise you and your purple PJs with the bottom cutout, who knows why, when you just wet the sheets last week whilst counting the number *of teeth lost during*


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## lostprophet (Sep 13, 2006)

I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my brand new hampster Jack's cage liner paper. You didn't even bother brushing your teeth after eating, and before kissing my sister's boyfriend's aunt who stole my last boyfriend by cooking him delicious apple body paint, which she painted on the cieling.

Anyway, I digress. We decided not to have any pets because of your stupid allergy to furbies and other fuzzy figments of your imagination forevermore also known as farting of the brain - something you became aware of back in 1927when you fell on aguitar. The guitar that you stole from Lynard Skynard, before their herpes outbreak became public and the chickens got blamed.

I really despise you and your purple PJs with the bottom cutout, who knows why, when you just wet the sheets last week whilst counting the number of teeth lost during *your Oyster sexing exam.*


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## Corry (Sep 13, 2006)

I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my brand new hampster Jack's cage liner paper. You didn't even bother brushing your teeth after eating, and before kissing my sister's boyfriend's aunt who stole my last boyfriend by cooking him delicious apple body paint, which she painted on the cieling.

Anyway, I digress. We decided not to have any pets because of your stupid allergy to furbies and other fuzzy figments of your imagination forevermore also known as farting of the brain - something you became aware of back in 1927when you fell on aguitar. The guitar that you stole from Lynard Skynard, before their herpes outbreak became public and the chickens got blamed.

I really despise you and your purple PJs with the bottom cutout, who knows why, when you just wet the sheets last week whilst counting the number of teeth lost during your Oyster sexing exam. *It's no wonder you*


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## JTHphoto (Sep 13, 2006)

I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my brand new hampster Jack's cage liner paper. You didn't even bother brushing your teeth after eating, and before kissing my sister's boyfriend's aunt who stole my last boyfriend by cooking him delicious apple body paint, which she painted on the cieling.

Anyway, I digress. We decided not to have any pets because of your stupid allergy to furbies and other fuzzy figments of your imagination forevermore also known as farting of the brain - something you became aware of back in 1927when you fell on aguitar. The guitar that you stole from Lynard Skynard, before their herpes outbreak became public and the chickens got blamed.

I really despise you and your purple PJs with the bottom cutout, who knows why, when you just wet the sheets last week whilst counting the number of teeth lost during your Oyster sexing exam. It's no wonder you *have psychotic episodes.  Maybe*


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## Antarctican (Sep 13, 2006)

- your Prozac pills were


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## Hoppy (Sep 13, 2006)

I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my brand new hampster Jack's cage liner paper. You didn't even bother brushing your teeth after eating, and before kissing my sister's boyfriend's aunt who stole my last boyfriend by cooking him delicious apple body paint, which she painted on the cieling.

Anyway, I digress. We decided not to have any pets because of your stupid allergy to furbies and other fuzzy figments of your imagination forevermore also known as farting of the brain - something you became aware of back in 1927when you fell on aguitar. The guitar that you stole from Lynard Skynard, before their herpes outbreak became public and the chickens got blamed.

I really despise you and your purple PJs with the bottom cutout, who knows why, when you just wet the sheets last week whilst counting the number of teeth lost during your Oyster sexing exam. It's no wonder you *have psychotic episodes. Maybe *your Prozac pills were *flushed away when you*


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## lostprophet (Sep 13, 2006)

I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my brand new hampster Jack's cage liner paper. You didn't even bother brushing your teeth after eating, and before kissing my sister's boyfriend's aunt who stole my last boyfriend by cooking him delicious apple body paint, which she painted on the cieling.

Anyway, I digress. We decided not to have any pets because of your stupid allergy to furbies and other fuzzy figments of your imagination forevermore also known as farting of the brain - something you became aware of back in 1927when you fell on aguitar. The guitar that you stole from Lynard Skynard, before their herpes outbreak became public and the chickens got blamed.

I really despise you and your purple PJs with the bottom cutout, who knows why, when you just wet the sheets last week whilst counting the number of teeth lost during your Oyster sexing exam. It's no wonder you have psychotic episodes. Maybe your Prozac pills were flushed away when you *dream of chocolate covered*


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## JDS (Sep 13, 2006)

I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my brand new hampster Jack's cage liner paper. You didn't even bother brushing your teeth after eating, and before kissing my sister's boyfriend's aunt who stole my last boyfriend by cooking him delicious apple body paint, which she painted on the cieling.

Anyway, I digress. We decided not to have any pets because of your stupid allergy to furbies and other fuzzy figments of your imagination forevermore also known as farting of the brain - something you became aware of back in 1927when you fell on aguitar. The guitar that you stole from Lynard Skynard, before their herpes outbreak became public and the chickens got blamed.

I really despise you and your purple PJs with the bottom cutout, who knows why, when you just wet the sheets last week whilst counting the number of teeth lost during your Oyster sexing exam. It's no wonder you have psychotic episodes. Maybe your Prozac pills were flushed away when you dream of chocolate covered *snails out of the*


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## Hoppy (Sep 13, 2006)

I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my brand new hampster Jack's cage liner paper. You didn't even bother brushing your teeth after eating, and before kissing my sister's boyfriend's aunt who stole my last boyfriend by cooking him delicious apple body paint, which she painted on the cieling.

Anyway, I digress. We decided not to have any pets because of your stupid allergy to furbies and other fuzzy figments of your imagination forevermore also known as farting of the brain - something you became aware of back in 1927when you fell on aguitar. The guitar that you stole from Lynard Skynard, before their herpes outbreak became public and the chickens got blamed.

I really despise you and your purple PJs with the bottom cutout, who knows why, when you just wet the sheets last week whilst counting the number of teeth lost during your Oyster sexing exam. It's no wonder you have psychotic episodes. Maybe your Prozac pills were flushed away when you dream of chocolate covered snails out of the* darkest pit of my*


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## jocose (Sep 13, 2006)

I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my brand new hampster Jack's cage liner paper. You didn't even bother brushing your teeth after eating, and before kissing my sister's boyfriend's aunt who stole my last boyfriend by cooking him delicious apple body paint, which she painted on the cieling.

Anyway, I digress. We decided not to have any pets because of your stupid allergy to furbies and other fuzzy figments of your imagination forevermore also known as farting of the brain - something you became aware of back in 1927when you fell on aguitar. The guitar that you stole from Lynard Skynard, before their herpes outbreak became public and the chickens got blamed.

I really despise you and your purple PJs with the bottom cutout, who knows why, when you just wet the sheets last week whilst counting the number of teeth lost during your Oyster sexing exam. It's no wonder you have psychotic episodes. Maybe your Prozac pills were flushed away when you dream of chocolate covered snails out of the darkest pit of my *childhood.*

*Let me turn*


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## LaFoto (Sep 13, 2006)

I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my brand new hampster Jack's cage liner paper. You didn't even bother brushing your teeth after eating, and before kissing my sister's boyfriend's aunt who stole my last boyfriend by cooking him delicious apple body paint, which she painted on the cieling.

Anyway, I digress. We decided not to have any pets because of your stupid allergy to furbies and other fuzzy figments of your imagination forevermore also known as farting of the brain - something you became aware of back in 1927when you fell on aguitar. The guitar that you stole from Lynard Skynard, before their herpes outbreak became public and the chickens got blamed.

I really despise you and your purple PJs with the bottom cutout, who knows why, when you just wet the sheets last week whilst counting the number of teeth lost during your Oyster sexing exam. It's no wonder you have psychotic episodes. Maybe your Prozac pills were flushed away when you dream of chocolate covered snails out of the darkest pit of my childhood.

Let me turn *now towards that unreasonable*


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## JTHphoto (Sep 13, 2006)

I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my brand new hampster Jack's cage liner paper. You didn't even bother brushing your teeth after eating, and before kissing my sister's boyfriend's aunt who stole my last boyfriend by cooking him delicious apple body paint, which she painted on the cieling.

Anyway, I digress. We decided not to have any pets because of your stupid allergy to furbies and other fuzzy figments of your imagination forevermore also known as farting of the brain - something you became aware of back in 1927 when you fell on a guitar. The guitar that you stole from Lynard Skynard, before their herpes outbreak became public and the chickens got blamed.

I really despise you and your purple PJs with the bottom cutout, who knows why, when you just wet the sheets last week whilst counting the number of teeth lost during your Oyster sexing exam. It's no wonder you have psychotic episodes. Maybe your Prozac pills were flushed away when you dream of chocolate covered snails out of the darkest pit of my childhood.

Let me turn now towards that unreasonable*, freaky request you made*


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## JDS (Sep 13, 2006)

I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my brand new hampster Jack's cage liner paper. You didn't even bother brushing your teeth after eating, and before kissing my sister's boyfriend's aunt who stole my last boyfriend by cooking him delicious apple body paint, which she painted on the cieling.

Anyway, I digress. We decided not to have any pets because of your stupid allergy to furbies and other fuzzy figments of your imagination forevermore also known as farting of the brain - something you became aware of back in 1927 when you fell on a guitar. The guitar that you stole from Lynard Skynard, before their herpes outbreak became public and the chickens got blamed.

I really despise you and your purple PJs with the bottom cutout, who knows why, when you just wet the sheets last week whilst counting the number of teeth lost during your Oyster sexing exam. It's no wonder you have psychotic episodes. Maybe your Prozac pills were flushed away when you dream of chocolate covered snails out of the darkest pit of my childhood.

Let me turn now towards that unreasonable, freaky request you made *while ducking under the*


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## JTHphoto (Sep 13, 2006)

I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my brand new hampster Jack's cage liner paper. You didn't even bother brushing your teeth after eating, and before kissing my sister's boyfriend's aunt who stole my last boyfriend by cooking him delicious apple body paint, which she painted on the cieling.

Anyway, I digress. We decided not to have any pets because of your stupid allergy to furbies and other fuzzy figments of your imagination forevermore also known as farting of the brain - something you became aware of back in 1927 when you fell on a guitar. The guitar that you stole from Lynard Skynard, before their herpes outbreak became public and the chickens got blamed.

I really despise you and your purple PJs with the bottom cutout, who knows why, when you just wet the sheets last week whilst counting the number of teeth lost during your Oyster sexing exam. It's no wonder you have psychotic episodes. Maybe your Prozac pills were flushed away when you dream of chocolate covered snails out of the darkest pit of my childhood.

Let me turn now towards that unreasonable, freaky request you made while ducking under the* covers last* *night.  Honestly,*


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## jocose (Sep 13, 2006)

I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my brand new hampster Jack's cage liner paper. You didn't even bother brushing your teeth after eating, and before kissing my sister's boyfriend's aunt who stole my last boyfriend by cooking him delicious apple body paint, which she painted on the cieling.

Anyway, I digress. We decided not to have any pets because of your stupid allergy to furbies and other fuzzy figments of your imagination forevermore also known as farting of the brain - something you became aware of back in 1927 when you fell on a guitar. The guitar that you stole from Lynard Skynard, before their herpes outbreak became public and the chickens got blamed.

I really despise you and your purple PJs with the bottom cutout, who knows why, when you just wet the sheets last week whilst counting the number of teeth lost during your Oyster sexing exam. It's no wonder you have psychotic episodes. Maybe your Prozac pills were flushed away when you dream of chocolate covered snails out of the darkest pit of my childhood.

Let me turn now towards that unreasonable, freaky request you made while ducking under the covers last night.  Honestly, *what were you thinking?*


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## MommyOf4Boys (Sep 13, 2006)

I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my brand new hampster Jack's cage liner paper. You didn't even bother brushing your teeth after eating, and before kissing my sister's boyfriend's aunt who stole my last boyfriend by cooking him delicious apple body paint, which she painted on the cieling.

Anyway, I digress. We decided not to have any pets because of your stupid allergy to furbies and other fuzzy figments of your imagination forevermore also known as farting of the brain - something you became aware of back in 1927 when you fell on a guitar. The guitar that you stole from Lynard Skynard, before their herpes outbreak became public and the chickens got blamed.

I really despise you and your purple PJs with the bottom cutout, who knows why, when you just wet the sheets last week whilst counting the number of teeth lost during your Oyster sexing exam. It's no wonder you have psychotic episodes. Maybe your Prozac pills were flushed away when you dream of chocolate covered snails out of the darkest pit of my childhood.

Let me turn now towards that unreasonable, freaky request you made while ducking under the covers last night.  Honestly, what were you thinking?

* It isn't enough that*


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## clarinetJWD (Sep 13, 2006)

I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my brand new hampster Jack's cage liner paper. You didn't even bother brushing your teeth after eating, and before kissing my sister's boyfriend's aunt who stole my last boyfriend by cooking him delicious apple body paint, which she painted on the cieling.

Anyway, I digress. We decided not to have any pets because of your stupid allergy to furbies and other fuzzy figments of your imagination forevermore also known as farting of the brain - something you became aware of back in 1927 when you fell on a guitar. The guitar that you stole from Lynard Skynard, before their herpes outbreak became public and the chickens got blamed.

I really despise you and your purple PJs with the bottom cutout, who knows why, when you just wet the sheets last week whilst counting the number of teeth lost during your Oyster sexing exam. It's no wonder you have psychotic episodes. Maybe your Prozac pills were flushed away when you dream of chocolate covered snails out of the darkest pit of my childhood.

Let me turn now towards that unreasonable, freaky request you made while ducking under the covers last night.  Honestly, what were you thinking?

It isn't enough that *you feel that you*


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## MommyOf4Boys (Sep 14, 2006)

I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my brand new hampster Jack's cage liner paper. You didn't even bother brushing your teeth after eating, and before kissing my sister's boyfriend's aunt who stole my last boyfriend by cooking him delicious apple body paint, which she painted on the cieling.

Anyway, I digress. We decided not to have any pets because of your stupid allergy to furbies and other fuzzy figments of your imagination forevermore also known as farting of the brain - something you became aware of back in 1927 when you fell on a guitar. The guitar that you stole from Lynard Skynard, before their herpes outbreak became public and the chickens got blamed.

I really despise you and your purple PJs with the bottom cutout, who knows why, when you just wet the sheets last week whilst counting the number of teeth lost during your Oyster sexing exam. It's no wonder you have psychotic episodes. Maybe your Prozac pills were flushed away when you dream of chocolate covered snails out of the darkest pit of my childhood.

Let me turn now towards that unreasonable, freaky request you made while ducking under the covers last night. Honestly, what were you thinking?

It isn't enough that you feel that you *have to argue with*


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## lostprophet (Sep 14, 2006)

I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my brand new hampster Jack's cage liner paper. You didn't even bother brushing your teeth after eating, and before kissing my sister's boyfriend's aunt who stole my last boyfriend by cooking him delicious apple body paint, which she painted on the cieling.

Anyway, I digress. We decided not to have any pets because of your stupid allergy to furbies and other fuzzy figments of your imagination forevermore also known as farting of the brain - something you became aware of back in 1927 when you fell on a guitar. The guitar that you stole from Lynard Skynard, before their herpes outbreak became public and the chickens got blamed.

I really despise you and your purple PJs with the bottom cutout, who knows why, when you just wet the sheets last week whilst counting the number of teeth lost during your Oyster sexing exam. It's no wonder you have psychotic episodes. Maybe your Prozac pills were flushed away when you dream of chocolate covered snails out of the darkest pit of my childhood.

Let me turn now towards that unreasonable, freaky request you made while ducking under the covers last night. Honestly, what were you thinking?

It isn't enough that you feel that you have to argue with *Robert the garden Gnome?*


----------



## chris82 (Sep 14, 2006)

I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my brand new hampster Jack's cage liner paper. You didn't even bother brushing your teeth after eating, and before kissing my sister's boyfriend's aunt who stole my last boyfriend by cooking him delicious apple body paint, which she painted on the cieling.

Anyway, I digress. We decided not to have any pets because of your stupid allergy to furbies and other fuzzy figments of your imagination forevermore also known as farting of the brain - something you became aware of back in 1927 when you fell on a guitar. The guitar that you stole from Lynard Skynard, before their herpes outbreak became public and the chickens got blamed.

I really despise you and your purple PJs with the bottom cutout, who knows why, when you just wet the sheets last week whilst counting the number of teeth lost during your Oyster sexing exam. It's no wonder you have psychotic episodes. Maybe your Prozac pills were flushed away when you dream of chocolate covered snails out of the darkest pit of my childhood.

Let me turn now towards that unreasonable, freaky request you made while ducking under the covers last night. Honestly, what were you thinking?

It isn't enough that you feel that you have to argue with robert the garden knome AND STEAL HIS UNDERWARE


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## quad b (Sep 14, 2006)

I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my brand new hampster Jack's cage liner paper. You didn't even bother brushing your teeth after eating, and before kissing my sister's boyfriend's aunt who stole my last boyfriend by cooking him delicious apple body paint, which she painted on the cieling.

Anyway, I digress. We decided not to have any pets because of your stupid allergy to furbies and other fuzzy figments of your imagination forevermore also known as farting of the brain - something you became aware of back in 1927 when you fell on a guitar. The guitar that you stole from Lynard Skynard, before their herpes outbreak became public and the chickens got blamed.

I really despise you and your purple PJs with the bottom cutout, who knows why, when you just wet the sheets last week whilst counting the number of teeth lost during your Oyster sexing exam. It's no wonder you have psychotic episodes. Maybe your Prozac pills were flushed away when you dream of chocolate covered snails out of the darkest pit of my childhood.

Let me turn now towards that unreasonable, freaky request you made while ducking under the covers last night. Honestly, what were you thinking?

It isn't enough that you feel that you have to argue with robert the garden knome and steal his underwear *while I water the*


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## MommyOf4Boys (Sep 14, 2006)

I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my brand new hampster Jack's cage liner paper. You didn't even bother brushing your teeth after eating, and before kissing my sister's boyfriend's aunt who stole my last boyfriend by cooking him delicious apple body paint, which she painted on the cieling.

Anyway, I digress. We decided not to have any pets because of your stupid allergy to furbies and other fuzzy figments of your imagination forevermore also known as farting of the brain - something you became aware of back in 1927 when you fell on a guitar. The guitar that you stole from Lynard Skynard, before their herpes outbreak became public and the chickens got blamed.

I really despise you and your purple PJs with the bottom cutout, who knows why, when you just wet the sheets last week whilst counting the number of teeth lost during your Oyster sexing exam. It's no wonder you have psychotic episodes. Maybe your Prozac pills were flushed away when you dream of chocolate covered snails out of the darkest pit of my childhood.

Let me turn now towards that unreasonable, freaky request you made while ducking under the covers last night. Honestly, what were you thinking?

It isn't enough that you feel that you have to argue with robert the garden knome and steal his underwear while I water the *plastic flowers that are*


----------



## chris82 (Sep 14, 2006)

I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my brand new hampster Jack's cage liner paper. You didn't even bother brushing your teeth after eating, and before kissing my sister's boyfriend's aunt who stole my last boyfriend by cooking him delicious apple body paint, which she painted on the cieling.

Anyway, I digress. We decided not to have any pets because of your stupid allergy to furbies and other fuzzy figments of your imagination forevermore also known as farting of the brain - something you became aware of back in 1927 when you fell on a guitar. The guitar that you stole from Lynard Skynard, before their herpes outbreak became public and the chickens got blamed.

I really despise you and your purple PJs with the bottom cutout, who knows why, when you just wet the sheets last week whilst counting the number of teeth lost during your Oyster sexing exam. It's no wonder you have psychotic episodes. Maybe your Prozac pills were flushed away when you dream of chocolate covered snails out of the darkest pit of my childhood.

Let me turn now towards that unreasonable, freaky request you made while ducking under the covers last night. Honestly, what were you thinking?

It isn't enough that you feel that you have to argue with robert the garden knome and steal his underwear while i water the plastic flowers that are GROWING FROM YOUR FUNGAL


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## jocose (Sep 14, 2006)

I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my brand new hampster Jack's cage liner paper. You didn't even bother brushing your teeth after eating, and before kissing my sister's boyfriend's aunt who stole my last boyfriend by cooking him delicious apple body paint, which she painted on the cieling.

Anyway, I digress. We decided not to have any pets because of your stupid allergy to furbies and other fuzzy figments of your imagination forevermore also known as farting of the brain - something you became aware of back in 1927 when you fell on a guitar. The guitar that you stole from Lynard Skynard, before their herpes outbreak became public and the chickens got blamed.

I really despise you and your purple PJs with the bottom cutout, who knows why, when you just wet the sheets last week whilst counting the number of teeth lost during your Oyster sexing exam. It's no wonder you have psychotic episodes. Maybe your Prozac pills were flushed away when you dream of chocolate covered snails out of the darkest pit of my childhood.

Let me turn now towards that unreasonable, freaky request you made while ducking under the covers last night. Honestly, what were you thinking?

It isn't enough that you feel that you have to argue with robert the garden knome and steal his underwear while i water the plastic flowers that are growing from your fungal *womanhood.*

*Speaking of which,*


----------



## clarinetJWD (Sep 14, 2006)

I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my brand new hampster Jack's cage liner paper. You didn't even bother brushing your teeth after eating, and before kissing my sister's boyfriend's aunt who stole my last boyfriend by cooking him delicious apple body paint, which she painted on the cieling.

Anyway, I digress. We decided not to have any pets because of your stupid allergy to furbies and other fuzzy figments of your imagination forevermore also known as farting of the brain - something you became aware of back in 1927 when you fell on a guitar. The guitar that you stole from Lynard Skynard, before their herpes outbreak became public and the chickens got blamed.

I really despise you and your purple PJs with the bottom cutout, who knows why, when you just wet the sheets last week whilst counting the number of teeth lost during your Oyster sexing exam. It's no wonder you have psychotic episodes. Maybe your Prozac pills were flushed away when you dream of chocolate covered snails out of the darkest pit of my childhood.

Let me turn now towards that unreasonable, freaky request you made while ducking under the covers last night. Honestly, what were you thinking?

It isn't enough that you feel that you have to argue with robert the garden gnome and steal his underwear while i water the plastic flowers that are growing from your fungal womanhood.

Speaking of which, *you may recall my*


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## Hoppy (Sep 14, 2006)

I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my brand new hampster Jack's cage liner paper. You didn't even bother brushing your teeth after eating, and before kissing my sister's boyfriend's aunt who stole my last boyfriend by cooking him delicious apple body paint, which she painted on the cieling.

Anyway, I digress. We decided not to have any pets because of your stupid allergy to furbies and other fuzzy figments of your imagination forevermore also known as farting of the brain - something you became aware of back in 1927 when you fell on a guitar. The guitar that you stole from Lynard Skynard, before their herpes outbreak became public and the chickens got blamed.

I really despise you and your purple PJs with the bottom cutout, who knows why, when you just wet the sheets last week whilst counting the number of teeth lost during your Oyster sexing exam. It's no wonder you have psychotic episodes. Maybe your Prozac pills were flushed away when you dream of chocolate covered snails out of the darkest pit of my childhood.

Let me turn now towards that unreasonable, freaky request you made while ducking under the covers last night. Honestly, what were you thinking?

It isn't enough that you feel that you have to argue with robert the garden gnome and steal his underwear while i water the plastic flowers that are growing from your fungal womanhood.

Speaking of which, you may recall my *cream that you borrowed*


----------



## MommyOf4Boys (Sep 14, 2006)

I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my brand new hampster Jack's cage liner paper. You didn't even bother brushing your teeth after eating, and before kissing my sister's boyfriend's aunt who stole my last boyfriend by cooking him delicious apple body paint, which she painted on the cieling.

Anyway, I digress. We decided not to have any pets because of your stupid allergy to furbies and other fuzzy figments of your imagination forevermore also known as farting of the brain - something you became aware of back in 1927 when you fell on a guitar. The guitar that you stole from Lynard Skynard, before their herpes outbreak became public and the chickens got blamed.

I really despise you and your purple PJs with the bottom cutout, who knows why, when you just wet the sheets last week whilst counting the number of teeth lost during your Oyster sexing exam. It's no wonder you have psychotic episodes. Maybe your Prozac pills were flushed away when you dream of chocolate covered snails out of the darkest pit of my childhood.

Let me turn now towards that unreasonable, freaky request you made while ducking under the covers last night. Honestly, what were you thinking?

It isn't enough that you feel that you have to argue with robert the garden gnome and steal his underwear while i water the plastic flowers that are growing from your fungal womanhood.

Speaking of which, you may recall my cream that you borrowed *to remove the hair*


----------



## Becky (Sep 14, 2006)

I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my brand new hampster Jack's cage liner paper. You didn't even bother brushing your teeth after eating, and before kissing my sister's boyfriend's aunt who stole my last boyfriend by cooking him delicious apple body paint, which she painted on the cieling.

Anyway, I digress. We decided not to have any pets because of your stupid allergy to furbies and other fuzzy figments of your imagination forevermore also known as farting of the brain - something you became aware of back in 1927 when you fell on a guitar. The guitar that you stole from Lynard Skynard, before their herpes outbreak became public and the chickens got blamed.

I really despise you and your purple PJs with the bottom cutout, who knows why, when you just wet the sheets last week whilst counting the number of teeth lost during your Oyster sexing exam. It's no wonder you have psychotic episodes. Maybe your Prozac pills were flushed away when you dream of chocolate covered snails out of the darkest pit of my childhood.

Let me turn now towards that unreasonable, freaky request you made while ducking under the covers last night. Honestly, what were you thinking?

It isn't enough that you feel that you have to argue with robert the garden gnome and steal his underwear while i water the plastic flowers that are growing from your fungal womanhood.

Speaking of which, you may recall my cream that you borrowed to remove the hair* from that particular area,
*


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## clarinetJWD (Sep 14, 2006)

you know, the back.


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## tempra (Sep 14, 2006)

I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my brand new hampster Jack's cage liner paper. You didn't even bother brushing your teeth after eating, and before kissing my sister's boyfriend's aunt who stole my last boyfriend by cooking him delicious apple body paint, which she painted on the cieling.

Anyway, I digress. We decided not to have any pets because of your stupid allergy to furbies and other fuzzy figments of your imagination forevermore also known as farting of the brain - something you became aware of back in 1927 when you fell on a guitar. The guitar that you stole from Lynard Skynard, before their herpes outbreak became public and the chickens got blamed.

I really despise you and your purple PJs with the bottom cutout, who knows why, when you just wet the sheets last week whilst counting the number of teeth lost during your Oyster sexing exam. It's no wonder you have psychotic episodes. Maybe your Prozac pills were flushed away when you dream of chocolate covered snails out of the darkest pit of my childhood.

Let me turn now towards that unreasonable, freaky request you made while ducking under the covers last night. Honestly, what were you thinking?

It isn't enough that you feel that you have to argue with robert the garden gnome and steal his underwear while i water the plastic flowers that are growing from your fungal womanhood.

Speaking of which, you may recall my cream that you borrowed to remove the hair from that particular area, you know, the back. I'm afraid that you


----------



## boris152 (Sep 14, 2006)

I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my brand new hampster Jack's cage liner paper. You didn't even bother brushing your teeth after eating, and before kissing my sister's boyfriend's aunt who stole my last boyfriend by cooking him delicious apple body paint, which she painted on the cieling.

Anyway, I digress. We decided not to have any pets because of your stupid allergy to furbies and other fuzzy figments of your imagination forevermore also known as farting of the brain - something you became aware of back in 1927 when you fell on a guitar. The guitar that you stole from Lynard Skynard, before their herpes outbreak became public and the chickens got blamed.

I really despise you and your purple PJs with the bottom cutout, who knows why, when you just wet the sheets last week whilst counting the number of teeth lost during your Oyster sexing exam. It's no wonder you have psychotic episodes. Maybe your Prozac pills were flushed away when you dream of chocolate covered snails out of the darkest pit of my childhood.

Let me turn now towards that unreasonable, freaky request you made while ducking under the covers last night. Honestly, what were you thinking?

It isn't enough that you feel that you have to argue with robert the garden gnome and steal his underwear while i water the plastic flowers that are growing from your fungal womanhood.

Speaking of which, you may recall my cream that you borrowed to remove the hair from that particular area, you know, the back. I'm afraid that you *got it all over*


----------



## quad b (Sep 14, 2006)

I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my brand new hampster Jack's cage liner paper. You didn't even bother brushing your teeth after eating, and before kissing my sister's boyfriend's aunt who stole my last boyfriend by cooking him delicious apple body paint, which she painted on the cieling.

Anyway, I digress. We decided not to have any pets because of your stupid allergy to furbies and other fuzzy figments of your imagination forevermore also known as farting of the brain - something you became aware of back in 1927 when you fell on a guitar. The guitar that you stole from Lynard Skynard, before their herpes outbreak became public and the chickens got blamed.

I really despise you and your purple PJs with the bottom cutout, who knows why, when you just wet the sheets last week whilst counting the number of teeth lost during your Oyster sexing exam. It's no wonder you have psychotic episodes. Maybe your Prozac pills were flushed away when you dream of chocolate covered snails out of the darkest pit of my childhood.

Let me turn now towards that unreasonable, freaky request you made while ducking under the covers last night. Honestly, what were you thinking?

It isn't enough that you feel that you have to argue with robert the garden gnome and steal his underwear while i water the plastic flowers that are growing from your fungal womanhood.

Speaking of which, you may recall my cream that you borrowed to remove the hair from that particular area, you know, the back. I'm afraid that you got it all over *my best friend's favourite*


----------



## MommyOf4Boys (Sep 14, 2006)

I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my brand new hampster Jack's cage liner paper. You didn't even bother brushing your teeth after eating, and before kissing my sister's boyfriend's aunt who stole my last boyfriend by cooking him delicious apple body paint, which she painted on the cieling.

Anyway, I digress. We decided not to have any pets because of your stupid allergy to furbies and other fuzzy figments of your imagination forevermore also known as farting of the brain - something you became aware of back in 1927 when you fell on a guitar. The guitar that you stole from Lynard Skynard, before their herpes outbreak became public and the chickens got blamed.

I really despise you and your purple PJs with the bottom cutout, who knows why, when you just wet the sheets last week whilst counting the number of teeth lost during your Oyster sexing exam. It's no wonder you have psychotic episodes. Maybe your Prozac pills were flushed away when you dream of chocolate covered snails out of the darkest pit of my childhood.

Let me turn now towards that unreasonable, freaky request you made while ducking under the covers last night. Honestly, what were you thinking?

It isn't enough that you feel that you have to argue with robert the garden gnome and steal his underwear while i water the plastic flowers that are growing from your fungal womanhood.

Speaking of which, you may recall my cream that you borrowed to remove the hair from that particular area, you know, the back. I'm afraid that you got it all over my best friend's favourite *chia-pet that I was*


----------



## quad b (Sep 14, 2006)

I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my brand new hampster Jack's cage liner paper. You didn't even bother brushing your teeth after eating, and before kissing my sister's boyfriend's aunt who stole my last boyfriend by cooking him delicious apple body paint, which she painted on the cieling.

Anyway, I digress. We decided not to have any pets because of your stupid allergy to furbies and other fuzzy figments of your imagination forevermore also known as farting of the brain - something you became aware of back in 1927 when you fell on a guitar. The guitar that you stole from Lynard Skynard, before their herpes outbreak became public and the chickens got blamed.

I really despise you and your purple PJs with the bottom cutout, who knows why, when you just wet the sheets last week whilst counting the number of teeth lost during your Oyster sexing exam. It's no wonder you have psychotic episodes. Maybe your Prozac pills were flushed away when you dream of chocolate covered snails out of the darkest pit of my childhood.

Let me turn now towards that unreasonable, freaky request you made while ducking under the covers last night. Honestly, what were you thinking?

It isn't enough that you feel that you have to argue with robert the garden gnome and steal his underwear while i water the plastic flowers that are growing from your fungal womanhood.

Speaking of which, you may recall my cream that you borrowed to remove the hair from that particular area, you know, the back. I'm afraid that you got it all over my best friend's favourite chia-pet that I was *using to clean your*


----------



## quad b (Sep 14, 2006)

I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my brand new hampster Jack's cage liner paper. You didn't even bother brushing your teeth after eating, and before kissing my sister's boyfriend's aunt who stole my last boyfriend by cooking him delicious apple body paint, which she painted on the cieling.

Anyway, I digress. We decided not to have any pets because of your stupid allergy to furbies and other fuzzy figments of your imagination forevermore also known as farting of the brain - something you became aware of back in 1927 when you fell on a guitar. The guitar that you stole from Lynard Skynard, before their herpes outbreak became public and the chickens got blamed.

I really despise you and your purple PJs with the bottom cutout, who knows why, when you just wet the sheets last week whilst counting the number of teeth lost during your Oyster sexing exam. It's no wonder you have psychotic episodes. Maybe your Prozac pills were flushed away when you dream of chocolate covered snails out of the darkest pit of my childhood.

Let me turn now towards that unreasonable, freaky request you made while ducking under the covers last night. Honestly, what were you thinking?

It isn't enough that you feel that you have to argue with robert the garden gnome and steal his underwear while i water the plastic flowers that are growing from your fungal womanhood.

Speaking of which, you may recall my cream that you borrowed to remove the hair from that particular area, you know, the back. I'm afraid that you got it all over my best friend's favourite chia-pet that I was *using to clean your*


----------



## zombiekilla (Sep 14, 2006)

I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my brand new hampster Jack's cage liner paper. You didn't even bother brushing your teeth after eating, and before kissing my sister's boyfriend's aunt who stole my last boyfriend by cooking him delicious apple body paint, which she painted on the cieling.

Anyway, I digress. We decided not to have any pets because of your stupid allergy to furbies and other fuzzy figments of your imagination forevermore also known as farting of the brain - something you became aware of back in 1927 when you fell on a guitar. The guitar that you stole from Lynard Skynard, before their herpes outbreak became public and the chickens got blamed.

I really despise you and your purple PJs with the bottom cutout, who knows why, when you just wet the sheets last week whilst counting the number of teeth lost during your Oyster sexing exam. It's no wonder you have psychotic episodes. Maybe your Prozac pills were flushed away when you dream of chocolate covered snails out of the darkest pit of my childhood.

Let me turn now towards that unreasonable, freaky request you made while ducking under the covers last night. Honestly, what were you thinking?

It isn't enough that you feel that you have to argue with robert the garden gnome and steal his underwear while i water the plastic flowers that are growing from your fungal womanhood.

Speaking of which, you may recall my cream that you borrowed to remove the hair from that particular area, you know, the back. I'm afraid that you got it all over my best friend's favourite chia-pet that I was using to clean your butt hairs out of


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## lostprophet (Sep 15, 2006)

I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my brand new hampster Jack's cage liner paper. You didn't even bother brushing your teeth after eating, and before kissing my sister's boyfriend's aunt who stole my last boyfriend by cooking him delicious apple body paint, which she painted on the cieling.

Anyway, I digress. We decided not to have any pets because of your stupid allergy to furbies and other fuzzy figments of your imagination forevermore also known as farting of the brain - something you became aware of back in 1927 when you fell on a guitar. The guitar that you stole from Lynard Skynard, before their herpes outbreak became public and the chickens got blamed.

I really despise you and your purple PJs with the bottom cutout, who knows why, when you just wet the sheets last week whilst counting the number of teeth lost during your Oyster sexing exam. It's no wonder you have psychotic episodes. Maybe your Prozac pills were flushed away when you dream of chocolate covered snails out of the darkest pit of my childhood.

Let me turn now towards that unreasonable, freaky request you made while ducking under the covers last night. Honestly, what were you thinking?

It isn't enough that you feel that you have to argue with robert the garden gnome and steal his underwear while i water the plastic flowers that are growing from your fungal womanhood.

Speaking of which, you may recall my cream that you borrowed to remove the hair from that particular area, you know, the back. I'm afraid that you got it all over my best friend's favourite chia-pet that I was using to clean your butt hairs out of *the fryingpan of doom*


----------



## chris82 (Sep 15, 2006)

I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my brand new hampster Jack's cage liner paper. You didn't even bother brushing your teeth after eating, and before kissing my sister's boyfriend's aunt who stole my last boyfriend by cooking him delicious apple body paint, which she painted on the cieling.

Anyway, I digress. We decided not to have any pets because of your stupid allergy to furbies and other fuzzy figments of your imagination forevermore also known as farting of the brain - something you became aware of back in 1927 when you fell on a guitar. The guitar that you stole from Lynard Skynard, before their herpes outbreak became public and the chickens got blamed.

I really despise you and your purple PJs with the bottom cutout, who knows why, when you just wet the sheets last week whilst counting the number of teeth lost during your Oyster sexing exam. It's no wonder you have psychotic episodes. Maybe your Prozac pills were flushed away when you dream of chocolate covered snails out of the darkest pit of my childhood.

Let me turn now towards that unreasonable, freaky request you made while ducking under the covers last night. Honestly, what were you thinking?

It isn't enough that you feel that you have to argue with robert the garden gnome and steal his underwear while i water the plastic flowers that are growing from your fungal womanhood.

Speaking of which, you may recall my cream that you borrowed to remove the hair from that particular area, you know, the back. I'm afraid that you got it all over my best friend's favourite chia-pet that I was using to clean your butt hairs out of the frying pan of doom WHEN GANDALF THE GREY


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## MommyOf4Boys (Sep 15, 2006)

I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my brand new hampster Jack's cage liner paper. You didn't even bother brushing your teeth after eating, and before kissing my sister's boyfriend's aunt who stole my last boyfriend by cooking him delicious apple body paint, which she painted on the cieling.

Anyway, I digress. We decided not to have any pets because of your stupid allergy to furbies and other fuzzy figments of your imagination forevermore also known as farting of the brain - something you became aware of back in 1927 when you fell on a guitar. The guitar that you stole from Lynard Skynard, before their herpes outbreak became public and the chickens got blamed.

I really despise you and your purple PJs with the bottom cutout, who knows why, when you just wet the sheets last week whilst counting the number of teeth lost during your Oyster sexing exam. It's no wonder you have psychotic episodes. Maybe your Prozac pills were flushed away when you dream of chocolate covered snails out of the darkest pit of my childhood.

Let me turn now towards that unreasonable, freaky request you made while ducking under the covers last night. Honestly, what were you thinking?

It isn't enough that you feel that you have to argue with robert the garden gnome and steal his underwear while i water the plastic flowers that are growing from your fungal womanhood.

Speaking of which, you may recall my cream that you borrowed to remove the hair from that particular area, you know, the back. I'm afraid that you got it all over my best friend's favourite chia-pet that I was using to clean your butt hairs out of the frying pan of doom when Gandalf they grey *haired Slurpee vendor came*


----------



## quad b (Sep 15, 2006)

I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my brand new hampster Jack's cage liner paper. You didn't even bother brushing your teeth after eating, and before kissing my sister's boyfriend's aunt who stole my last boyfriend by cooking him delicious apple body paint, which she painted on the cieling.

Anyway, I digress. We decided not to have any pets because of your stupid allergy to furbies and other fuzzy figments of your imagination forevermore also known as farting of the brain - something you became aware of back in 1927 when you fell on a guitar. The guitar that you stole from Lynard Skynard, before their herpes outbreak became public and the chickens got blamed.

I really despise you and your purple PJs with the bottom cutout, who knows why, when you just wet the sheets last week whilst counting the number of teeth lost during your Oyster sexing exam. It's no wonder you have psychotic episodes. Maybe your Prozac pills were flushed away when you dream of chocolate covered snails out of the darkest pit of my childhood.

Let me turn now towards that unreasonable, freaky request you made while ducking under the covers last night. Honestly, what were you thinking?

It isn't enough that you feel that you have to argue with robert the garden gnome and steal his underwear while i water the plastic flowers that are growing from your fungal womanhood.

Speaking of which, you may recall my cream that you borrowed to remove the hair from that particular area, you know, the back. I'm afraid that you got it all over my best friend's favourite chia-pet that I was using to clean your butt hairs out of the frying pan of doom when Gandalf they grey haired Slurpee vendor came *out of the closet*


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## LaFoto (Sep 15, 2006)

I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my brand new hampster Jack's cage liner paper. You didn't even bother brushing your teeth after eating, and before kissing my sister's boyfriend's aunt who stole my last boyfriend by cooking him delicious apple body paint, which she painted on the cieling.

Anyway, I digress. We decided not to have any pets because of your stupid allergy to furbies and other fuzzy figments of your imagination forevermore also known as farting of the brain - something you became aware of back in 1927 when you fell on a guitar. The guitar that you stole from Lynard Skynard, before their herpes outbreak became public and the chickens got blamed.

I really despise you and your purple PJs with the bottom cutout, who knows why, when you just wet the sheets last week whilst counting the number of teeth lost during your Oyster sexing exam. It's no wonder you have psychotic episodes. Maybe your Prozac pills were flushed away when you dream of chocolate covered snails out of the darkest pit of my childhood.

Let me turn now towards that unreasonable, freaky request you made while ducking under the covers last night. Honestly, what were you thinking?

It isn't enough that you feel that you have to argue with robert the garden gnome and steal his underwear while i water the plastic flowers that are growing from your fungal womanhood.

Speaking of which, you may recall my cream that you borrowed to remove the hair from that particular area, you know, the back. I'm afraid that you got it all over my best friend's favourite chia-pet that I was using to clean your butt hairs out of the frying pan of doom when Gandalf they grey haired Slurpee vendor came out of the closet*, don't you? That cream*


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## morydd (Sep 15, 2006)

I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my brand new hampster Jack's cage liner paper. You didn't even bother brushing your teeth after eating, and before kissing my sister's boyfriend's aunt who stole my last boyfriend by cooking him delicious apple body paint, which she painted on the cieling.

Anyway, I digress. We decided not to have any pets because of your stupid allergy to furbies and other fuzzy figments of your imagination forevermore also known as farting of the brain - something you became aware of back in 1927 when you fell on a guitar. The guitar that you stole from Lynard Skynard, before their herpes outbreak became public and the chickens got blamed.

I really despise you and your purple PJs with the bottom cutout, who knows why, when you just wet the sheets last week whilst counting the number of teeth lost during your Oyster sexing exam. It's no wonder you have psychotic episodes. Maybe your Prozac pills were flushed away when you dream of chocolate covered snails out of the darkest pit of my childhood.

Let me turn now towards that unreasonable, freaky request you made while ducking under the covers last night. Honestly, what were you thinking?

It isn't enough that you feel that you have to argue with robert the garden gnome and steal his underwear while i water the plastic flowers that are growing from your fungal womanhood.

Speaking of which, you may recall my cream that you borrowed to remove the hair from that particular area, you know, the back. I'm afraid that you got it all over my best friend's favourite chia-pet that I was using to clean your butt hairs out of the frying pan of doom when Gandalf they grey haired Slurpee vendor came out of the closet, don't you? That cream *cost upwards of 2,000*


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## MommyOf4Boys (Sep 15, 2006)

I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my brand new hampster Jack's cage liner paper. You didn't even bother brushing your teeth after eating, and before kissing my sister's boyfriend's aunt who stole my last boyfriend by cooking him delicious apple body paint, which she painted on the cieling.

Anyway, I digress. We decided not to have any pets because of your stupid allergy to furbies and other fuzzy figments of your imagination forevermore also known as farting of the brain - something you became aware of back in 1927 when you fell on a guitar. The guitar that you stole from Lynard Skynard, before their herpes outbreak became public and the chickens got blamed.

I really despise you and your purple PJs with the bottom cutout, who knows why, when you just wet the sheets last week whilst counting the number of teeth lost during your Oyster sexing exam. It's no wonder you have psychotic episodes. Maybe your Prozac pills were flushed away when you dream of chocolate covered snails out of the darkest pit of my childhood.

Let me turn now towards that unreasonable, freaky request you made while ducking under the covers last night. Honestly, what were you thinking?

It isn't enough that you feel that you have to argue with robert the garden gnome and steal his underwear while i water the plastic flowers that are growing from your fungal womanhood.

Speaking of which, you may recall my cream that you borrowed to remove the hair from that particular area, you know, the back. I'm afraid that you got it all over my best friend's favourite chia-pet that I was using to clean your butt hairs out of the frying pan of doom when Gandalf they grey haired Slurpee vendor came out of the closet, don't you? That cream cost upwards of 2,000 *Marlboro miles that I*


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## chris82 (Sep 15, 2006)

I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my brand new hampster Jack's cage liner paper. You didn't even bother brushing your teeth after eating, and before kissing my sister's boyfriend's aunt who stole my last boyfriend by cooking him delicious apple body paint, which she painted on the cieling.

Anyway, I digress. We decided not to have any pets because of your stupid allergy to furbies and other fuzzy figments of your imagination forevermore also known as farting of the brain - something you became aware of back in 1927 when you fell on a guitar. The guitar that you stole from Lynard Skynard, before their herpes outbreak became public and the chickens got blamed.

I really despise you and your purple PJs with the bottom cutout, who knows why, when you just wet the sheets last week whilst counting the number of teeth lost during your Oyster sexing exam. It's no wonder you have psychotic episodes. Maybe your Prozac pills were flushed away when you dream of chocolate covered snails out of the darkest pit of my childhood.

Let me turn now towards that unreasonable, freaky request you made while ducking under the covers last night. Honestly, what were you thinking?

It isn't enough that you feel that you have to argue with robert the garden gnome and steal his underwear while i water the plastic flowers that are growing from your fungal womanhood.

Speaking of which, you may recall my cream that you borrowed to remove the hair from that particular area, you know, the back. I'm afraid that you got it all over my best friend's favourite chia-pet that I was using to clean your butt hairs out of the frying pan of doom when Gandalf they grey haired Slurpee vendor came out of the closet, don't you? That cream cost upwards of 2,000 marlboro miles that i *and shadowfax refuse to*


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## lostprophet (Sep 15, 2006)

I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my brand new hampster Jack's cage liner paper. You didn't even bother brushing your teeth after eating, and before kissing my sister's boyfriend's aunt who stole my last boyfriend by cooking him delicious apple body paint, which she painted on the cieling.

Anyway, I digress. We decided not to have any pets because of your stupid allergy to furbies and other fuzzy figments of your imagination forevermore also known as farting of the brain - something you became aware of back in 1927 when you fell on a guitar. The guitar that you stole from Lynard Skynard, before their herpes outbreak became public and the chickens got blamed.

I really despise you and your purple PJs with the bottom cutout, who knows why, when you just wet the sheets last week whilst counting the number of teeth lost during your Oyster sexing exam. It's no wonder you have psychotic episodes. Maybe your Prozac pills were flushed away when you dream of chocolate covered snails out of the darkest pit of my childhood.

Let me turn now towards that unreasonable, freaky request you made while ducking under the covers last night. Honestly, what were you thinking?

It isn't enough that you feel that you have to argue with robert the garden gnome and steal his underwear while i water the plastic flowers that are growing from your fungal womanhood.

Speaking of which, you may recall my cream that you borrowed to remove the hair from that particular area, you know, the back. I'm afraid that you got it all over my best friend's favourite chia-pet that I was using to clean your butt hairs out of the frying pan of doom when Gandalf they grey haired Slurpee vendor came out of the closet, don't you? That cream cost upwards of 2,000 marlboro miles that i and shadowfax refuse to *come to your house*


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## Corry (Sep 15, 2006)

I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my brand new hampster Jack's cage liner paper. You didn't even bother brushing your teeth after eating, and before kissing my sister's boyfriend's aunt who stole my last boyfriend by cooking him delicious apple body paint, which she painted on the cieling.

Anyway, I digress. We decided not to have any pets because of your stupid allergy to furbies and other fuzzy figments of your imagination forevermore also known as farting of the brain - something you became aware of back in 1927 when you fell on a guitar. The guitar that you stole from Lynard Skynard, before their herpes outbreak became public and the chickens got blamed.

I really despise you and your purple PJs with the bottom cutout, who knows why, when you just wet the sheets last week whilst counting the number of teeth lost during your Oyster sexing exam. It's no wonder you have psychotic episodes. Maybe your Prozac pills were flushed away when you dream of chocolate covered snails out of the darkest pit of my childhood.

Let me turn now towards that unreasonable, freaky request you made while ducking under the covers last night. Honestly, what were you thinking?

It isn't enough that you feel that you have to argue with robert the garden gnome and steal his underwear while i water the plastic flowers that are growing from your fungal womanhood.

Speaking of which, you may recall my cream that you borrowed to remove the hair from that particular area, you know, the back. I'm afraid that you got it all over my best friend's favourite chia-pet that I was using to clean your butt hairs out of the frying pan of doom when Gandalf they grey haired Slurpee vendor came out of the closet, don't you? That cream cost upwards of 2,000 marlboro miles that i and shadowfax refuse to come to your house *to force you to*







(this letter is HILARIOUS...I should print it and send it to my now ex bf!  )


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## LaFoto (Sep 15, 2006)

I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my brand new hampster Jack's cage liner paper. You didn't even bother brushing your teeth after eating, and before kissing my sister's boyfriend's aunt who stole my last boyfriend by cooking him delicious apple body paint, which she painted on the cieling.

Anyway, I digress. We decided not to have any pets because of your stupid allergy to furbies and other fuzzy figments of your imagination forevermore also known as farting of the brain - something you became aware of back in 1927 when you fell on a guitar. The guitar that you stole from Lynard Skynard, before their herpes outbreak became public and the chickens got blamed.

I really despise you and your purple PJs with the bottom cutout, who knows why, when you just wet the sheets last week whilst counting the number of teeth lost during your Oyster sexing exam. It's no wonder you have psychotic episodes. Maybe your Prozac pills were flushed away when you dream of chocolate covered snails out of the darkest pit of my childhood.

Let me turn now towards that unreasonable, freaky request you made while ducking under the covers last night. Honestly, what were you thinking?

It isn't enough that you feel that you have to argue with robert the garden gnome and steal his underwear while i water the plastic flowers that are growing from your fungal womanhood.

Speaking of which, you may recall my cream that you borrowed to remove the hair from that particular area, you know, the back. I'm afraid that you got it all over my best friend's favourite chia-pet that I was using to clean your butt hairs out of the frying pan of doom when Gandalf they grey haired Slurpee vendor came out of the closet, don't you? That cream cost upwards of 2,000 marlboro miles that i and shadowfax refuse to come to your house to force you to *pay back at last*


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## boris152 (Sep 15, 2006)

I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my brand new hampster Jack's cage liner paper. You didn't even bother brushing your teeth after eating, and before kissing my sister's boyfriend's aunt who stole my last boyfriend by cooking him delicious apple body paint, which she painted on the cieling.

Anyway, I digress. We decided not to have any pets because of your stupid allergy to furbies and other fuzzy figments of your imagination forevermore also known as farting of the brain - something you became aware of back in 1927 when you fell on a guitar. The guitar that you stole from Lynard Skynard, before their herpes outbreak became public and the chickens got blamed.

I really despise you and your purple PJs with the bottom cutout, who knows why, when you just wet the sheets last week whilst counting the number of teeth lost during your Oyster sexing exam. It's no wonder you have psychotic episodes. Maybe your Prozac pills were flushed away when you dream of chocolate covered snails out of the darkest pit of my childhood.

Let me turn now towards that unreasonable, freaky request you made while ducking under the covers last night. Honestly, what were you thinking?

It isn't enough that you feel that you have to argue with robert the garden gnome and steal his underwear while i water the plastic flowers that are growing from your fungal womanhood.

Speaking of which, you may recall my cream that you borrowed to remove the hair from that particular area, you know, the back. I'm afraid that you got it all over my best friend's favourite chia-pet that I was using to clean your butt hairs out of the frying pan of doom when Gandalf they grey haired Slurpee vendor came out of the closet, don't you? That cream cost upwards of 2,000 marlboro miles that i and shadowfax refuse to come to your house to force you to pay back at last. *The final hour*


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## JTHphoto (Sep 15, 2006)

I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my brand new hampster Jack's cage liner paper. You didn't even bother brushing your teeth after eating, and before kissing my sister's boyfriend's aunt who stole my last boyfriend by cooking him delicious apple body paint, which she painted on the cieling.

Anyway, I digress. We decided not to have any pets because of your stupid allergy to furbies and other fuzzy figments of your imagination forevermore also known as farting of the brain - something you became aware of back in 1927 when you fell on a guitar. The guitar that you stole from Lynard Skynard, before their herpes outbreak became public and the chickens got blamed.

I really despise you and your purple PJs with the bottom cutout, who knows why, when you just wet the sheets last week whilst counting the number of teeth lost during your Oyster sexing exam. It's no wonder you have psychotic episodes. Maybe your Prozac pills were flushed away when you dream of chocolate covered snails out of the darkest pit of my childhood.

Let me turn now towards that unreasonable, freaky request you made while ducking under the covers last night. Honestly, what were you thinking?

It isn't enough that you feel that you have to argue with robert the garden gnome and steal his underwear while i water the plastic flowers that are growing from your fungal womanhood.

Speaking of which, you may recall my cream that you borrowed to remove the hair from that particular area, you know, the back. I'm afraid that you got it all over my best friend's favourite chia-pet that I was using to clean your butt hairs out of the frying pan of doom when Gandalf the grey haired Slurpee vendor came out of the closet, don't you? That cream cost upwards of 2,000 marlboro miles that i and shadowfax refuse to come to your house to force you to pay back at last. The final hour *has arrived. *

*I must*


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## zombiekilla (Sep 15, 2006)

I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my brand new hampster Jack's cage liner paper. You didn't even bother brushing your teeth after eating, and before kissing my sister's boyfriend's aunt who stole my last boyfriend by cooking him delicious apple body paint, which she painted on the cieling.

Anyway, I digress. We decided not to have any pets because of your stupid allergy to furbies and other fuzzy figments of your imagination forevermore also known as farting of the brain - something you became aware of back in 1927 when you fell on a guitar. The guitar that you stole from Lynard Skynard, before their herpes outbreak became public and the chickens got blamed.

I really despise you and your purple PJs with the bottom cutout, who knows why, when you just wet the sheets last week whilst counting the number of teeth lost during your Oyster sexing exam. It's no wonder you have psychotic episodes. Maybe your Prozac pills were flushed away when you dream of chocolate covered snails out of the darkest pit of my childhood.

Let me turn now towards that unreasonable, freaky request you made while ducking under the covers last night. Honestly, what were you thinking?

It isn't enough that you feel that you have to argue with robert the garden gnome and steal his underwear while i water the plastic flowers that are growing from your fungal womanhood.

Speaking of which, you may recall my cream that you borrowed to remove the hair from that particular area, you know, the back. I'm afraid that you got it all over my best friend's favourite chia-pet that I was using to clean your butt hairs out of the frying pan of doom when Gandalf the grey haired Slurpee vendor came out of the closet, don't you? That cream cost upwards of 2,000 marlboro miles that i and shadowfax refuse to come to your house to force you to pay back at last. The final hour has arrived. 

  I must *return this blouse that*


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## Christie Photo (Sep 15, 2006)

I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my brand new hampster Jack's cage liner paper. You didn't even bother brushing your teeth after eating, and before kissing my sister's boyfriend's aunt who stole my last boyfriend by cooking him delicious apple body paint, which she painted on the cieling.

Anyway, I digress. We decided not to have any pets because of your stupid allergy to furbies and other fuzzy figments of your imagination forevermore also known as farting of the brain - something you became aware of back in 1927 when you fell on a guitar. The guitar that you stole from Lynard Skynard, before their herpes outbreak became public and the chickens got blamed.

I really despise you and your purple PJs with the bottom cutout, who knows why, when you just wet the sheets last week whilst counting the number of teeth lost during your Oyster sexing exam. It's no wonder you have psychotic episodes. Maybe your Prozac pills were flushed away when you dream of chocolate covered snails out of the darkest pit of my childhood.

Let me turn now towards that unreasonable, freaky request you made while ducking under the covers last night. Honestly, what were you thinking?

It isn't enough that you feel that you have to argue with robert the garden gnome and steal his underwear while i water the plastic flowers that are growing from your fungal womanhood.

Speaking of which, you may recall my cream that you borrowed to remove the hair from that particular area, you know, the back. I'm afraid that you got it all over my best friend's favourite chia-pet that I was using to clean your butt hairs out of the frying pan of doom when Gandalf the grey haired Slurpee vendor came out of the closet, don't you? That cream cost upwards of 2,000 marlboro miles that i and shadowfax refuse to come to your house to force you to pay back at last. The final hour has arrived. 

I must return this blouse that *got stained when we*


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## Photo Mime (Sep 15, 2006)

I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my brand new hampster Jack's cage liner paper. You didn't even bother brushing your teeth after eating, and before kissing my sister's boyfriend's aunt who stole my last boyfriend by cooking him delicious apple body paint, which she painted on the cieling.

Anyway, I digress. We decided not to have any pets because of your stupid allergy to furbies and other fuzzy figments of your imagination forevermore also known as farting of the brain - something you became aware of back in 1927 when you fell on a guitar. The guitar that you stole from Lynard Skynard, before their herpes outbreak became public and the chickens got blamed.

I really despise you and your purple PJs with the bottom cutout, who knows why, when you just wet the sheets last week whilst counting the number of teeth lost during your Oyster sexing exam. It's no wonder you have psychotic episodes. Maybe your Prozac pills were flushed away when you dream of chocolate covered snails out of the darkest pit of my childhood.

Let me turn now towards that unreasonable, freaky request you made while ducking under the covers last night. Honestly, what were you thinking?

It isn't enough that you feel that you have to argue with robert the garden gnome and steal his underwear while i water the plastic flowers that are growing from your fungal womanhood.

Speaking of which, you may recall my cream that you borrowed to remove the hair from that particular area, you know, the back. I'm afraid that you got it all over my best friend's favourite chia-pet that I was using to clean your butt hairs out of the frying pan of doom when Gandalf the grey haired Slurpee vendor came out of the closet, don't you? That cream cost upwards of 2,000 marlboro miles that i and shadowfax refuse to come to your house to force you to pay back at last. The final hour has arrived. 

I must return this blouse that got stained when we*  ........ ........ ... .......... ........ *


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## quad b (Sep 16, 2006)

I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my brand new hampster Jack's cage liner paper. You didn't even bother brushing your teeth after eating, and before kissing my sister's boyfriend's aunt who stole my last boyfriend by cooking him delicious apple body paint, which she painted on the cieling.

Anyway, I digress. We decided not to have any pets because of your stupid allergy to furbies and other fuzzy figments of your imagination forevermore also known as farting of the brain - something you became aware of back in 1927 when you fell on a guitar. The guitar that you stole from Lynard Skynard, before their herpes outbreak became public and the chickens got blamed.

I really despise you and your purple PJs with the bottom cutout, who knows why, when you just wet the sheets last week whilst counting the number of teeth lost during your Oyster sexing exam. It's no wonder you have psychotic episodes. Maybe your Prozac pills were flushed away when you dream of chocolate covered snails out of the darkest pit of my childhood.

Let me turn now towards that unreasonable, freaky request you made while ducking under the covers last night. Honestly, what were you thinking?

It isn't enough that you feel that you have to argue with robert the garden gnome and steal his underwear while i water the plastic flowers that are growing from your fungal womanhood.

Speaking of which, you may recall my cream that you borrowed to remove the hair from that particular area, you know, the back. I'm afraid that you got it all over my best friend's favourite chia-pet that I was using to clean your butt hairs out of the frying pan of doom when Gandalf the grey haired Slurpee vendor came out of the closet, don't you? That cream cost upwards of 2,000 marlboro miles that i and shadowfax refuse to come to your house to force you to pay back at last. The final hour has arrived. 

I must return this blouse that got stained when we *spent that week in*


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## lostprophet (Sep 16, 2006)

I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my brand new hampster Jack's cage liner paper. You didn't even bother brushing your teeth after eating, and before kissing my sister's boyfriend's aunt who stole my last boyfriend by cooking him delicious apple body paint, which she painted on the cieling.

Anyway, I digress. We decided not to have any pets because of your stupid allergy to furbies and other fuzzy figments of your imagination forevermore also known as farting of the brain - something you became aware of back in 1927 when you fell on a guitar. The guitar that you stole from Lynard Skynard, before their herpes outbreak became public and the chickens got blamed.

I really despise you and your purple PJs with the bottom cutout, who knows why, when you just wet the sheets last week whilst counting the number of teeth lost during your Oyster sexing exam. It's no wonder you have psychotic episodes. Maybe your Prozac pills were flushed away when you dream of chocolate covered snails out of the darkest pit of my childhood.

Let me turn now towards that unreasonable, freaky request you made while ducking under the covers last night. Honestly, what were you thinking?

It isn't enough that you feel that you have to argue with robert the garden gnome and steal his underwear while i water the plastic flowers that are growing from your fungal womanhood.

Speaking of which, you may recall my cream that you borrowed to remove the hair from that particular area, you know, the back. I'm afraid that you got it all over my best friend's favourite chia-pet that I was using to clean your butt hairs out of the frying pan of doom when Gandalf the grey haired Slurpee vendor came out of the closet, don't you? That cream cost upwards of 2,000 marlboro miles that i and shadowfax refuse to come to your house to force you to pay back at last. The final hour has arrived. 

I must return this blouse that got stained when we spent that week in *that fire station and*


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## chris82 (Sep 16, 2006)

I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my brand new hampster Jack's cage liner paper. You didn't even bother brushing your teeth after eating, and before kissing my sister's boyfriend's aunt who stole my last boyfriend by cooking him delicious apple body paint, which she painted on the cieling.

Anyway, I digress. We decided not to have any pets because of your stupid allergy to furbies and other fuzzy figments of your imagination forevermore also known as farting of the brain - something you became aware of back in 1927 when you fell on a guitar. The guitar that you stole from Lynard Skynard, before their herpes outbreak became public and the chickens got blamed.

I really despise you and your purple PJs with the bottom cutout, who knows why, when you just wet the sheets last week whilst counting the number of teeth lost during your Oyster sexing exam. It's no wonder you have psychotic episodes. Maybe your Prozac pills were flushed away when you dream of chocolate covered snails out of the darkest pit of my childhood.

Let me turn now towards that unreasonable, freaky request you made while ducking under the covers last night. Honestly, what were you thinking?

It isn't enough that you feel that you have to argue with robert the garden gnome and steal his underwear while i water the plastic flowers that are growing from your fungal womanhood.

Speaking of which, you may recall my cream that you borrowed to remove the hair from that particular area, you know, the back. I'm afraid that you got it all over my best friend's favourite chia-pet that I was using to clean your butt hairs out of the frying pan of doom when Gandalf the grey haired Slurpee vendor came out of the closet, don't you? That cream cost upwards of 2,000 marlboro miles that i and shadowfax refuse to come to your house to force you to pay back at last. The final hour has arrived. 

I must return this blouse that got stained when we spent that week in that fire station and *the ghostbusters ripped my*


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## zombiekilla (Sep 16, 2006)

I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my brand new hampster Jack's cage liner paper. You didn't even bother brushing your teeth after eating, and before kissing my sister's boyfriend's aunt who stole my last boyfriend by cooking him delicious apple body paint, which she painted on the cieling.

Anyway, I digress. We decided not to have any pets because of your stupid allergy to furbies and other fuzzy figments of your imagination forevermore also known as farting of the brain - something you became aware of back in 1927 when you fell on a guitar. The guitar that you stole from Lynard Skynard, before their herpes outbreak became public and the chickens got blamed.

I really despise you and your purple PJs with the bottom cutout, who knows why, when you just wet the sheets last week whilst counting the number of teeth lost during your Oyster sexing exam. It's no wonder you have psychotic episodes. Maybe your Prozac pills were flushed away when you dream of chocolate covered snails out of the darkest pit of my childhood.

Let me turn now towards that unreasonable, freaky request you made while ducking under the covers last night. Honestly, what were you thinking?

It isn't enough that you feel that you have to argue with robert the garden gnome and steal his underwear while i water the plastic flowers that are growing from your fungal womanhood.

Speaking of which, you may recall my cream that you borrowed to remove the hair from that particular area, you know, the back. I'm afraid that you got it all over my best friend's favourite chia-pet that I was using to clean your butt hairs out of the frying pan of doom when Gandalf the grey haired Slurpee vendor came out of the closet, don't you? That cream cost upwards of 2,000 marlboro miles that i and shadowfax refuse to come to your house to force you to pay back at last. The final hour has arrived. 

I must return this blouse that got stained when we spent that week in that fire station and the ghostbusters ripped my *Favorite MC Hammer Poster*.


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## duncanp (Sep 16, 2006)

I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my brand new hampster Jack's cage liner paper. You didn't even bother brushing your teeth after eating, and before kissing my sister's boyfriend's aunt who stole my last boyfriend by cooking him delicious apple body paint, which she painted on the cieling.

Anyway, I digress. We decided not to have any pets because of your stupid allergy to furbies and other fuzzy figments of your imagination forevermore also known as farting of the brain - something you became aware of back in 1927 when you fell on a guitar. The guitar that you stole from Lynard Skynard, before their herpes outbreak became public and the chickens got blamed.

I really despise you and your purple PJs with the bottom cutout, who knows why, when you just wet the sheets last week whilst counting the number of teeth lost during your Oyster sexing exam. It's no wonder you have psychotic episodes. Maybe your Prozac pills were flushed away when you dream of chocolate covered snails out of the darkest pit of my childhood.

Let me turn now towards that unreasonable, freaky request you made while ducking under the covers last night. Honestly, what were you thinking?

It isn't enough that you feel that you have to argue with robert the garden gnome and steal his underwear while i water the plastic flowers that are growing from your fungal womanhood.

Speaking of which, you may recall my cream that you borrowed to remove the hair from that particular area, you know, the back. I'm afraid that you got it all over my best friend's favourite chia-pet that I was using to clean your butt hairs out of the frying pan of doom when Gandalf the grey haired Slurpee vendor came out of the closet, don't you? That cream cost upwards of 2,000 marlboro miles that i and shadowfax refuse to come to your house to force you to pay back at last. The final hour has arrived. 

I must return this blouse that got stained when we spent that week in that fire station and the ghostbusters ripped my Favorite MC Hammer Poster. *Why did i ever *


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## Antarctican (Sep 16, 2006)

I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my brand new hampster Jack's cage liner paper. You didn't even bother brushing your teeth after eating, and before kissing my sister's boyfriend's aunt who stole my last boyfriend by cooking him delicious apple body paint, which she painted on the cieling.

Anyway, I digress. We decided not to have any pets because of your stupid allergy to furbies and other fuzzy figments of your imagination forevermore also known as farting of the brain - something you became aware of back in 1927 when you fell on a guitar. The guitar that you stole from Lynard Skynard, before their herpes outbreak became public and the chickens got blamed.

I really despise you and your purple PJs with the bottom cutout, who knows why, when you just wet the sheets last week whilst counting the number of teeth lost during your Oyster sexing exam. It's no wonder you have psychotic episodes. Maybe your Prozac pills were flushed away when you dream of chocolate covered snails out of the darkest pit of my childhood.

Let me turn now towards that unreasonable, freaky request you made while ducking under the covers last night. Honestly, what were you thinking?

It isn't enough that you feel that you have to argue with robert the garden gnome and steal his underwear while i water the plastic flowers that are growing from your fungal womanhood.

Speaking of which, you may recall my cream that you borrowed to remove the hair from that particular area, you know, the back. I'm afraid that you got it all over my best friend's favourite chia-pet that I was using to clean your butt hairs out of the frying pan of doom when Gandalf the grey haired Slurpee vendor came out of the closet, don't you? That cream cost upwards of 2,000 marlboro miles that i and shadowfax refuse to come to your house to force you to pay back at last. The final hour has arrived. 

I must return this blouse that got stained when we spent that week in that fire station and the ghostbusters ripped my Favorite MC Hammer Poster. Why did i ever *let you take pictures*


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## lostprophet (Sep 16, 2006)

I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my brand new hampster Jack's cage liner paper. You didn't even bother brushing your teeth after eating, and before kissing my sister's boyfriend's aunt who stole my last boyfriend by cooking him delicious apple body paint, which she painted on the cieling.

Anyway, I digress. We decided not to have any pets because of your stupid allergy to furbies and other fuzzy figments of your imagination forevermore also known as farting of the brain - something you became aware of back in 1927 when you fell on a guitar. The guitar that you stole from Lynard Skynard, before their herpes outbreak became public and the chickens got blamed.

I really despise you and your purple PJs with the bottom cutout, who knows why, when you just wet the sheets last week whilst counting the number of teeth lost during your Oyster sexing exam. It's no wonder you have psychotic episodes. Maybe your Prozac pills were flushed away when you dream of chocolate covered snails out of the darkest pit of my childhood.

Let me turn now towards that unreasonable, freaky request you made while ducking under the covers last night. Honestly, what were you thinking?

It isn't enough that you feel that you have to argue with robert the garden gnome and steal his underwear while i water the plastic flowers that are growing from your fungal womanhood.

Speaking of which, you may recall my cream that you borrowed to remove the hair from that particular area, you know, the back. I'm afraid that you got it all over my best friend's favourite chia-pet that I was using to clean your butt hairs out of the frying pan of doom when Gandalf the grey haired Slurpee vendor came out of the closet, don't you? That cream cost upwards of 2,000 marlboro miles that i and shadowfax refuse to come to your house to force you to pay back at last. The final hour has arrived. 

I must return this blouse that got stained when we spent that week in that fire station and the ghostbusters ripped my Favorite MC Hammer Poster. Why did i ever let you take pictures *of Otters? You are*


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## chris82 (Sep 16, 2006)

I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my brand new hampster Jack's cage liner paper. You didn't even bother brushing your teeth after eating, and before kissing my sister's boyfriend's aunt who stole my last boyfriend by cooking him delicious apple body paint, which she painted on the cieling.

Anyway, I digress. We decided not to have any pets because of your stupid allergy to furbies and other fuzzy figments of your imagination forevermore also known as farting of the brain - something you became aware of back in 1927 when you fell on a guitar. The guitar that you stole from Lynard Skynard, before their herpes outbreak became public and the chickens got blamed.

I really despise you and your purple PJs with the bottom cutout, who knows why, when you just wet the sheets last week whilst counting the number of teeth lost during your Oyster sexing exam. It's no wonder you have psychotic episodes. Maybe your Prozac pills were flushed away when you dream of chocolate covered snails out of the darkest pit of my childhood.

Let me turn now towards that unreasonable, freaky request you made while ducking under the covers last night. Honestly, what were you thinking?

It isn't enough that you feel that you have to argue with robert the garden gnome and steal his underwear while i water the plastic flowers that are growing from your fungal womanhood.

Speaking of which, you may recall my cream that you borrowed to remove the hair from that particular area, you know, the back. I'm afraid that you got it all over my best friend's favourite chia-pet that I was using to clean your butt hairs out of the frying pan of doom when Gandalf the grey haired Slurpee vendor came out of the closet, don't you? That cream cost upwards of 2,000 marlboro miles that i and shadowfax refuse to come to your house to force you to pay back at last. The final hour has arrived. 

I must return this blouse that got stained when we spent that week in that fire station and the ghostbusters ripped my Favorite MC Hammer Poster. Why did i ever let you take pictures of otters.you are* superteds spotty arsed friend*


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## Christie Photo (Sep 16, 2006)

I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my brand new hampster Jack's cage liner paper. You didn't even bother brushing your teeth after eating, and before kissing my sister's boyfriend's aunt who stole my last boyfriend by cooking him delicious apple body paint, which she painted on the cieling.

Anyway, I digress. We decided not to have any pets because of your stupid allergy to furbies and other fuzzy figments of your imagination forevermore also known as farting of the brain - something you became aware of back in 1927 when you fell on a guitar. The guitar that you stole from Lynard Skynard, before their herpes outbreak became public and the chickens got blamed.

I really despise you and your purple PJs with the bottom cutout, who knows why, when you just wet the sheets last week whilst counting the number of teeth lost during your Oyster sexing exam. It's no wonder you have psychotic episodes. Maybe your Prozac pills were flushed away when you dream of chocolate covered snails out of the darkest pit of my childhood.

Let me turn now towards that unreasonable, freaky request you made while ducking under the covers last night. Honestly, what were you thinking?

It isn't enough that you feel that you have to argue with robert the garden gnome and steal his underwear while i water the plastic flowers that are growing from your fungal womanhood.

Speaking of which, you may recall my cream that you borrowed to remove the hair from that particular area, you know, the back. I'm afraid that you got it all over my best friend's favourite chia-pet that I was using to clean your butt hairs out of the frying pan of doom when Gandalf the grey haired Slurpee vendor came out of the closet, don't you? That cream cost upwards of 2,000 marlboro miles that i and shadowfax refuse to come to your house to force you to pay back at last. The final hour has arrived. 

I must return this blouse that got stained when we spent that week in that fire station and the ghostbusters ripped my Favorite MC Hammer Poster. Why did i ever let you take pictures of otters.you are superteds spotty arsed friend.  *I don't think we*


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## Antarctican (Sep 16, 2006)

I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my brand new hampster Jack's cage liner paper. You didn't even bother brushing your teeth after eating, and before kissing my sister's boyfriend's aunt who stole my last boyfriend by cooking him delicious apple body paint, which she painted on the cieling.

Anyway, I digress. We decided not to have any pets because of your stupid allergy to furbies and other fuzzy figments of your imagination forevermore also known as farting of the brain - something you became aware of back in 1927 when you fell on a guitar. The guitar that you stole from Lynard Skynard, before their herpes outbreak became public and the chickens got blamed.

I really despise you and your purple PJs with the bottom cutout, who knows why, when you just wet the sheets last week whilst counting the number of teeth lost during your Oyster sexing exam. It's no wonder you have psychotic episodes. Maybe your Prozac pills were flushed away when you dream of chocolate covered snails out of the darkest pit of my childhood.

Let me turn now towards that unreasonable, freaky request you made while ducking under the covers last night. Honestly, what were you thinking?

It isn't enough that you feel that you have to argue with robert the garden gnome and steal his underwear while i water the plastic flowers that are growing from your fungal womanhood.

Speaking of which, you may recall my cream that you borrowed to remove the hair from that particular area, you know, the back. I'm afraid that you got it all over my best friend's favourite chia-pet that I was using to clean your butt hairs out of the frying pan of doom when Gandalf the grey haired Slurpee vendor came out of the closet, don't you? That cream cost upwards of 2,000 marlboro miles that i and shadowfax refuse to come to your house to force you to pay back at last. The final hour has arrived. 

I must return this blouse that got stained when we spent that week in that fire station and the ghostbusters ripped my Favorite MC Hammer Poster. Why did i ever let you take pictures of otters? You are superteds spotty arsed friend.  I don't think we *talk about that because*


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## chris82 (Sep 16, 2006)

I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my brand new hampster Jack's cage liner paper. You didn't even bother brushing your teeth after eating, and before kissing my sister's boyfriend's aunt who stole my last boyfriend by cooking him delicious apple body paint, which she painted on the cieling.

Anyway, I digress. We decided not to have any pets because of your stupid allergy to furbies and other fuzzy figments of your imagination forevermore also known as farting of the brain - something you became aware of back in 1927 when you fell on a guitar. The guitar that you stole from Lynard Skynard, before their herpes outbreak became public and the chickens got blamed.

I really despise you and your purple PJs with the bottom cutout, who knows why, when you just wet the sheets last week whilst counting the number of teeth lost during your Oyster sexing exam. It's no wonder you have psychotic episodes. Maybe your Prozac pills were flushed away when you dream of chocolate covered snails out of the darkest pit of my childhood.

Let me turn now towards that unreasonable, freaky request you made while ducking under the covers last night. Honestly, what were you thinking?

It isn't enough that you feel that you have to argue with robert the garden gnome and steal his underwear while i water the plastic flowers that are growing from your fungal womanhood.

Speaking of which, you may recall my cream that you borrowed to remove the hair from that particular area, you know, the back. I'm afraid that you got it all over my best friend's favourite chia-pet that I was using to clean your butt hairs out of the frying pan of doom when Gandalf the grey haired Slurpee vendor came out of the closet, don't you? That cream cost upwards of 2,000 marlboro miles that i and shadowfax refuse to come to your house to force you to pay back at last. The final hour has arrived. 

I must return this blouse that got stained when we spent that week in that fire station and the ghostbusters ripped my Favorite MC Hammer Poster. Why did i ever let you take pictures of otters? You are superteds spotty arsed friend whom we all call *upon when we need*


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## chris82 (Sep 16, 2006)

I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my brand new hampster Jack's cage liner paper. You didn't even bother brushing your teeth after eating, and before kissing my sister's boyfriend's aunt who stole my last boyfriend by cooking him delicious apple body paint, which she painted on the cieling.

Anyway, I digress. We decided not to have any pets because of your stupid allergy to furbies and other fuzzy figments of your imagination forevermore also known as farting of the brain - something you became aware of back in 1927 when you fell on a guitar. The guitar that you stole from Lynard Skynard, before their herpes outbreak became public and the chickens got blamed.

I really despise you and your purple PJs with the bottom cutout, who knows why, when you just wet the sheets last week whilst counting the number of teeth lost during your Oyster sexing exam. It's no wonder you have psychotic episodes. Maybe your Prozac pills were flushed away when you dream of chocolate covered snails out of the darkest pit of my childhood.

Let me turn now towards that unreasonable, freaky request you made while ducking under the covers last night. Honestly, what were you thinking?

It isn't enough that you feel that you have to argue with robert the garden gnome and steal his underwear while i water the plastic flowers that are growing from your fungal womanhood.

Speaking of which, you may recall my cream that you borrowed to remove the hair from that particular area, you know, the back. I'm afraid that you got it all over my best friend's favourite chia-pet that I was using to clean your butt hairs out of the frying pan of doom when Gandalf the grey haired Slurpee vendor came out of the closet, don't you? That cream cost upwards of 2,000 marlboro miles that i and shadowfax refuse to come to your house to force you to pay back at last. The final hour has arrived. 

I must return this blouse that got stained when we spent that week in that fire station and the ghostbusters ripped my Favorite MC Hammer Poster. Why did i ever let you take pictures of otters? You are superteds spotty arsed friend whom we all call upon when we need* plastic bullets for space*


----------



## Christie Photo (Sep 16, 2006)

I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my brand new hampster Jack's cage liner paper. You didn't even bother brushing your teeth after eating, and before kissing my sister's boyfriend's aunt who stole my last boyfriend by cooking him delicious apple body paint, which she painted on the cieling.

Anyway, I digress. We decided not to have any pets because of your stupid allergy to furbies and other fuzzy figments of your imagination forevermore also known as farting of the brain - something you became aware of back in 1927 when you fell on a guitar. The guitar that you stole from Lynard Skynard, before their herpes outbreak became public and the chickens got blamed.

I really despise you and your purple PJs with the bottom cutout, who knows why, when you just wet the sheets last week whilst counting the number of teeth lost during your Oyster sexing exam. It's no wonder you have psychotic episodes. Maybe your Prozac pills were flushed away when you dream of chocolate covered snails out of the darkest pit of my childhood.

Let me turn now towards that unreasonable, freaky request you made while ducking under the covers last night. Honestly, what were you thinking?

It isn't enough that you feel that you have to argue with robert the garden gnome and steal his underwear while i water the plastic flowers that are growing from your fungal womanhood.

Speaking of which, you may recall my cream that you borrowed to remove the hair from that particular area, you know, the back. I'm afraid that you got it all over my best friend's favourite chia-pet that I was using to clean your butt hairs out of the frying pan of doom when Gandalf the grey haired Slurpee vendor came out of the closet, don't you? That cream cost upwards of 2,000 marlboro miles that i and shadowfax refuse to come to your house to force you to pay back at last. The final hour has arrived. 

I must return this blouse that got stained when we spent that week in that fire station and the ghostbusters ripped my Favorite MC Hammer Poster. Why did i ever let you take pictures of otters? You are superteds spotty arsed friend whom we all call upon when we need plastic bullets for space.

*Regardless, I just can't*


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## quad b (Sep 18, 2006)

I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my brand new hampster Jack's cage liner paper. You didn't even bother brushing your teeth after eating, and before kissing my sister's boyfriend's aunt who stole my last boyfriend by cooking him delicious apple body paint, which she painted on the cieling.

Anyway, I digress. We decided not to have any pets because of your stupid allergy to furbies and other fuzzy figments of your imagination forevermore also known as farting of the brain - something you became aware of back in 1927 when you fell on a guitar. The guitar that you stole from Lynard Skynard, before their herpes outbreak became public and the chickens got blamed.

I really despise you and your purple PJs with the bottom cutout, who knows why, when you just wet the sheets last week whilst counting the number of teeth lost during your Oyster sexing exam. It's no wonder you have psychotic episodes. Maybe your Prozac pills were flushed away when you dream of chocolate covered snails out of the darkest pit of my childhood.

Let me turn now towards that unreasonable, freaky request you made while ducking under the covers last night. Honestly, what were you thinking?

It isn't enough that you feel that you have to argue with robert the garden gnome and steal his underwear while i water the plastic flowers that are growing from your fungal womanhood.

Speaking of which, you may recall my cream that you borrowed to remove the hair from that particular area, you know, the back. I'm afraid that you got it all over my best friend's favourite chia-pet that I was using to clean your butt hairs out of the frying pan of doom when Gandalf the grey haired Slurpee vendor came out of the closet, don't you? That cream cost upwards of 2,000 marlboro miles that i and shadowfax refuse to come to your house to force you to pay back at last. The final hour has arrived. 

I must return this blouse that got stained when we spent that week in that fire station and the ghostbusters ripped my Favorite MC Hammer Poster. Why did i ever let you take pictures of otters? You are superteds spotty arsed friend whom we all call upon when we need plastic bullets for space.

Regardless, I just can't *forget the time you*


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## morydd (Sep 18, 2006)

I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my brand new hampster Jack's cage liner paper. You didn't even bother brushing your teeth after eating, and before kissing my sister's boyfriend's aunt who stole my last boyfriend by cooking him delicious apple body paint, which she painted on the cieling.

Anyway, I digress. We decided not to have any pets because of your stupid allergy to furbies and other fuzzy figments of your imagination forevermore also known as farting of the brain - something you became aware of back in 1927 when you fell on a guitar. The guitar that you stole from Lynard Skynard, before their herpes outbreak became public and the chickens got blamed.

I really despise you and your purple PJs with the bottom cutout, who knows why, when you just wet the sheets last week whilst counting the number of teeth lost during your Oyster sexing exam. It's no wonder you have psychotic episodes. Maybe your Prozac pills were flushed away when you dream of chocolate covered snails out of the darkest pit of my childhood.

Let me turn now towards that unreasonable, freaky request you made while ducking under the covers last night. Honestly, what were you thinking?

It isn't enough that you feel that you have to argue with robert the garden gnome and steal his underwear while i water the plastic flowers that are growing from your fungal womanhood.

Speaking of which, you may recall my cream that you borrowed to remove the hair from that particular area, you know, the back. I'm afraid that you got it all over my best friend's favourite chia-pet that I was using to clean your butt hairs out of the frying pan of doom when Gandalf the grey haired Slurpee vendor came out of the closet, don't you? That cream cost upwards of 2,000 marlboro miles that i and shadowfax refuse to come to your house to force you to pay back at last. The final hour has arrived.

I must return this blouse that got stained when we spent that week in that fire station and the ghostbusters ripped my Favorite MC Hammer Poster. Why did i ever let you take pictures of otters? You are superteds spotty arsed friend whom we all call upon when we need plastic bullets for space.

Regardless, I just can't forget the time you *spanked my yak with*


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## zombiekilla (Sep 18, 2006)

I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my brand new hampster Jack's cage liner paper. You didn't even bother brushing your teeth after eating, and before kissing my sister's boyfriend's aunt who stole my last boyfriend by cooking him delicious apple body paint, which she painted on the cieling.

Anyway, I digress. We decided not to have any pets because of your stupid allergy to furbies and other fuzzy figments of your imagination forevermore also known as farting of the brain - something you became aware of back in 1927 when you fell on a guitar. The guitar that you stole from Lynard Skynard, before their herpes outbreak became public and the chickens got blamed.

I really despise you and your purple PJs with the bottom cutout, who knows why, when you just wet the sheets last week whilst counting the number of teeth lost during your Oyster sexing exam. It's no wonder you have psychotic episodes. Maybe your Prozac pills were flushed away when you dream of chocolate covered snails out of the darkest pit of my childhood.

Let me turn now towards that unreasonable, freaky request you made while ducking under the covers last night. Honestly, what were you thinking?

It isn't enough that you feel that you have to argue with robert the garden gnome and steal his underwear while i water the plastic flowers that are growing from your fungal womanhood.

Speaking of which, you may recall my cream that you borrowed to remove the hair from that particular area, you know, the back. I'm afraid that you got it all over my best friend's favourite chia-pet that I was using to clean your butt hairs out of the frying pan of doom when Gandalf the grey haired Slurpee vendor came out of the closet, don't you? That cream cost upwards of 2,000 marlboro miles that i and shadowfax refuse to come to your house to force you to pay back at last. The final hour has arrived.

I must return this blouse that got stained when we spent that week in that fire station and the ghostbusters ripped my Favorite MC Hammer Poster. Why did i ever let you take pictures of otters? You are superteds spotty arsed friend whom we all call upon when we need plastic bullets for space.

Regardless, I just can't forget the time you spanked my yak with *hot buttered dinner rolls. *


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## JTHphoto (Sep 18, 2006)

I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my brand new hampster Jack's cage liner paper. You didn't even bother brushing your teeth after eating, and before kissing my sister's boyfriend's aunt who stole my last boyfriend by cooking him delicious apple body paint, which she painted on the cieling.

Anyway, I digress. We decided not to have any pets because of your stupid allergy to furbies and other fuzzy figments of your imagination forevermore also known as farting of the brain - something you became aware of back in 1927 when you fell on a guitar. The guitar that you stole from Lynard Skynard, before their herpes outbreak became public and the chickens got blamed.

I really despise you and your purple PJs with the bottom cutout, who knows why, when you just wet the sheets last week whilst counting the number of teeth lost during your Oyster sexing exam. It's no wonder you have psychotic episodes. Maybe your Prozac pills were flushed away when you dream of chocolate covered snails out of the darkest pit of my childhood.

Let me turn now towards that unreasonable, freaky request you made while ducking under the covers last night. Honestly, what were you thinking?

It isn't enough that you feel that you have to argue with robert the garden gnome and steal his underwear while i water the plastic flowers that are growing from your fungal womanhood.

Speaking of which, you may recall my cream that you borrowed to remove the hair from that particular area, you know, the back. I'm afraid that you got it all over my best friend's favourite chia-pet that I was using to clean your butt hairs out of the frying pan of doom when Gandalf the grey haired Slurpee vendor came out of the closet, don't you? That cream cost upwards of 2,000 marlboro miles that i and shadowfax refuse to come to your house to force you to pay back at last. The final hour has arrived.

I must return this blouse that got stained when we spent that week in that fire station and the ghostbusters ripped my Favorite MC Hammer Poster. Why did i ever let you take pictures of otters? You are superteds spotty arsed friend whom we all call upon when we need plastic bullets for space.

Regardless, I just can't forget the time you spanked my yak with hot buttered dinner rolls.*  I miss those days.  *


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## Corry (Sep 18, 2006)

I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my brand new hampster Jack's cage liner paper. You didn't even bother brushing your teeth after eating, and before kissing my sister's boyfriend's aunt who stole my last boyfriend by cooking him delicious apple body paint, which she painted on the cieling.

Anyway, I digress. We decided not to have any pets because of your stupid allergy to furbies and other fuzzy figments of your imagination forevermore also known as farting of the brain - something you became aware of back in 1927 when you fell on a guitar. The guitar that you stole from Lynard Skynard, before their herpes outbreak became public and the chickens got blamed.

I really despise you and your purple PJs with the bottom cutout, who knows why, when you just wet the sheets last week whilst counting the number of teeth lost during your Oyster sexing exam. It's no wonder you have psychotic episodes. Maybe your Prozac pills were flushed away when you dream of chocolate covered snails out of the darkest pit of my childhood.

Let me turn now towards that unreasonable, freaky request you made while ducking under the covers last night. Honestly, what were you thinking?

It isn't enough that you feel that you have to argue with robert the garden gnome and steal his underwear while i water the plastic flowers that are growing from your fungal womanhood.

Speaking of which, you may recall my cream that you borrowed to remove the hair from that particular area, you know, the back. I'm afraid that you got it all over my best friend's favourite chia-pet that I was using to clean your butt hairs out of the frying pan of doom when Gandalf the grey haired Slurpee vendor came out of the closet, don't you? That cream cost upwards of 2,000 marlboro miles that i and shadowfax refuse to come to your house to force you to pay back at last. The final hour has arrived.

I must return this blouse that got stained when we spent that week in that fire station and the ghostbusters ripped my Favorite MC Hammer Poster. Why did i ever let you take pictures of otters? You are superteds spotty arsed friend whom we all call upon when we need plastic bullets for space.

Regardless, I just can't forget the time you spanked my yak with hot buttered dinner rolls. I miss those days. *We always went to*


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## chris82 (Sep 19, 2006)

I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my brand new hampster Jack's cage liner paper. You didn't even bother brushing your teeth after eating, and before kissing my sister's boyfriend's aunt who stole my last boyfriend by cooking him delicious apple body paint, which she painted on the cieling.

Anyway, I digress. We decided not to have any pets because of your stupid allergy to furbies and other fuzzy figments of your imagination forevermore also known as farting of the brain - something you became aware of back in 1927 when you fell on a guitar. The guitar that you stole from Lynard Skynard, before their herpes outbreak became public and the chickens got blamed.

I really despise you and your purple PJs with the bottom cutout, who knows why, when you just wet the sheets last week whilst counting the number of teeth lost during your Oyster sexing exam. It's no wonder you have psychotic episodes. Maybe your Prozac pills were flushed away when you dream of chocolate covered snails out of the darkest pit of my childhood.

Let me turn now towards that unreasonable, freaky request you made while ducking under the covers last night. Honestly, what were you thinking?

It isn't enough that you feel that you have to argue with robert the garden gnome and steal his underwear while i water the plastic flowers that are growing from your fungal womanhood.

Speaking of which, you may recall my cream that you borrowed to remove the hair from that particular area, you know, the back. I'm afraid that you got it all over my best friend's favourite chia-pet that I was using to clean your butt hairs out of the frying pan of doom when Gandalf the grey haired Slurpee vendor came out of the closet, don't you? That cream cost upwards of 2,000 marlboro miles that i and shadowfax refuse to come to your house to force you to pay back at last. The final hour has arrived.

I must return this blouse that got stained when we spent that week in that fire station and the ghostbusters ripped my Favorite MC Hammer Poster. Why did i ever let you take pictures of otters? You are superteds spotty arsed friend whom we all call upon when we need plastic bullets for space.

Regardless, I just can't forget the time you spanked my yak with hot buttered dinner rolls. I miss those days. we always went to *look for* *captain planets *


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## MommyOf4Boys (Sep 19, 2006)

I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my brand new hampster Jack's cage liner paper. You didn't even bother brushing your teeth after eating, and before kissing my sister's boyfriend's aunt who stole my last boyfriend by cooking him delicious apple body paint, which she painted on the cieling.

Anyway, I digress. We decided not to have any pets because of your stupid allergy to furbies and other fuzzy figments of your imagination forevermore also known as farting of the brain - something you became aware of back in 1927 when you fell on a guitar. The guitar that you stole from Lynard Skynard, before their herpes outbreak became public and the chickens got blamed.

I really despise you and your purple PJs with the bottom cutout, who knows why, when you just wet the sheets last week whilst counting the number of teeth lost during your Oyster sexing exam. It's no wonder you have psychotic episodes. Maybe your Prozac pills were flushed away when you dream of chocolate covered snails out of the darkest pit of my childhood.

Let me turn now towards that unreasonable, freaky request you made while ducking under the covers last night. Honestly, what were you thinking?

It isn't enough that you feel that you have to argue with robert the garden gnome and steal his underwear while i water the plastic flowers that are growing from your fungal womanhood.

Speaking of which, you may recall my cream that you borrowed to remove the hair from that particular area, you know, the back. I'm afraid that you got it all over my best friend's favourite chia-pet that I was using to clean your butt hairs out of the frying pan of doom when Gandalf the grey haired Slurpee vendor came out of the closet, don't you? That cream cost upwards of 2,000 marlboro miles that i and shadowfax refuse to come to your house to force you to pay back at last. The final hour has arrived.

I must return this blouse that got stained when we spent that week in that fire station and the ghostbusters ripped my Favorite MC Hammer Poster. Why did i ever let you take pictures of otters? You are superteds spotty arsed friend whom we all call upon when we need plastic bullets for space.

  Regardless, I just can't forget the time you spanked my yak with hot buttered dinner rolls. I miss those days.  We always went to look for captain planet's *polkadotted underwear where noone*


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## L146705 (Sep 19, 2006)

I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my brand new hampster Jack's cage liner paper. You didn't even bother brushing your teeth after eating, and before kissing my sister's boyfriend's aunt who stole my last boyfriend by cooking him delicious apple body paint, which she painted on the cieling.

Anyway, I digress. We decided not to have any pets because of your stupid allergy to furbies and other fuzzy figments of your imagination forevermore also known as farting of the brain - something you became aware of back in 1927 when you fell on a guitar. The guitar that you stole from Lynard Skynard, before their herpes outbreak became public and the chickens got blamed.

I really despise you and your purple PJs with the bottom cutout, who knows why, when you just wet the sheets last week whilst counting the number of teeth lost during your Oyster sexing exam. It's no wonder you have psychotic episodes. Maybe your Prozac pills were flushed away when you dream of chocolate covered snails out of the darkest pit of my childhood.

Let me turn now towards that unreasonable, freaky request you made while ducking under the covers last night. Honestly, what were you thinking?

It isn't enough that you feel that you have to argue with robert the garden gnome and steal his underwear while i water the plastic flowers that are growing from your fungal womanhood.

Speaking of which, you may recall my cream that you borrowed to remove the hair from that particular area, you know, the back. I'm afraid that you got it all over my best friend's favourite chia-pet that I was using to clean your butt hairs out of the frying pan of doom when Gandalf the grey haired Slurpee vendor came out of the closet, don't you? That cream cost upwards of 2,000 marlboro miles that i and shadowfax refuse to come to your house to force you to pay back at last. The final hour has arrived.

I must return this blouse that got stained when we spent that week in that fire station and the ghostbusters ripped my Favorite MC Hammer Poster. Why did i ever let you take pictures of otters? You are superteds spotty arsed friend whom we all call upon when we need plastic bullets for space.

Regardless, I just can't forget the time you spanked my yak with hot buttered dinner rolls. I miss those days. We always went to look for captain planet's polkadotted underwear where noone *could see or hear us*


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## Christie Photo (Sep 19, 2006)

I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my brand new hampster Jack's cage liner paper. You didn't even bother brushing your teeth after eating, and before kissing my sister's boyfriend's aunt who stole my last boyfriend by cooking him delicious apple body paint, which she painted on the cieling.

Anyway, I digress. We decided not to have any pets because of your stupid allergy to furbies and other fuzzy figments of your imagination forevermore also known as farting of the brain - something you became aware of back in 1927 when you fell on a guitar. The guitar that you stole from Lynard Skynard, before their herpes outbreak became public and the chickens got blamed.

I really despise you and your purple PJs with the bottom cutout, who knows why, when you just wet the sheets last week whilst counting the number of teeth lost during your Oyster sexing exam. It's no wonder you have psychotic episodes. Maybe your Prozac pills were flushed away when you dream of chocolate covered snails out of the darkest pit of my childhood.

Let me turn now towards that unreasonable, freaky request you made while ducking under the covers last night. Honestly, what were you thinking?

It isn't enough that you feel that you have to argue with robert the garden gnome and steal his underwear while i water the plastic flowers that are growing from your fungal womanhood.

Speaking of which, you may recall my cream that you borrowed to remove the hair from that particular area, you know, the back. I'm afraid that you got it all over my best friend's favourite chia-pet that I was using to clean your butt hairs out of the frying pan of doom when Gandalf the grey haired Slurpee vendor came out of the closet, don't you? That cream cost upwards of 2,000 marlboro miles that i and shadowfax refuse to come to your house to force you to pay back at last. The final hour has arrived.

I must return this blouse that got stained when we spent that week in that fire station and the ghostbusters ripped my Favorite MC Hammer Poster. Why did i ever let you take pictures of otters? You are superteds spotty arsed friend whom we all call upon when we need plastic bullets for space.

Regardless, I just can't forget the time you spanked my yak with hot buttered dinner rolls. I miss those days. We always went to look for captain planet's polkadotted underwear where noone could see or hear us *as we quickly tore*


----------



## zombiekilla (Sep 19, 2006)

I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my brand new hampster Jack's cage liner paper. You didn't even bother brushing your teeth after eating, and before kissing my sister's boyfriend's aunt who stole my last boyfriend by cooking him delicious apple body paint, which she painted on the cieling.

Anyway, I digress. We decided not to have any pets because of your stupid allergy to furbies and other fuzzy figments of your imagination forevermore also known as farting of the brain - something you became aware of back in 1927 when you fell on a guitar. The guitar that you stole from Lynard Skynard, before their herpes outbreak became public and the chickens got blamed.

I really despise you and your purple PJs with the bottom cutout, who knows why, when you just wet the sheets last week whilst counting the number of teeth lost during your Oyster sexing exam. It's no wonder you have psychotic episodes. Maybe your Prozac pills were flushed away when you dream of chocolate covered snails out of the darkest pit of my childhood.

Let me turn now towards that unreasonable, freaky request you made while ducking under the covers last night. Honestly, what were you thinking?

It isn't enough that you feel that you have to argue with robert the garden gnome and steal his underwear while i water the plastic flowers that are growing from your fungal womanhood.

Speaking of which, you may recall my cream that you borrowed to remove the hair from that particular area, you know, the back. I'm afraid that you got it all over my best friend's favourite chia-pet that I was using to clean your butt hairs out of the frying pan of doom when Gandalf the grey haired Slurpee vendor came out of the closet, don't you? That cream cost upwards of 2,000 marlboro miles that i and shadowfax refuse to come to your house to force you to pay back at last. The final hour has arrived.

I must return this blouse that got stained when we spent that week in that fire station and the ghostbusters ripped my Favorite MC Hammer Poster. Why did i ever let you take pictures of otters? You are superteds spotty arsed friend whom we all call upon when we need plastic bullets for space.

Regardless, I just can't forget the time you spanked my yak with hot buttered dinner rolls. I miss those days. We always went to look for captain planet's polkadotted underwear where noone could see or hear us as we quickly tore *open the box of*


----------



## JTHphoto (Sep 19, 2006)

I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my brand new hampster Jack's cage liner paper. You didn't even bother brushing your teeth after eating, and before kissing my sister's boyfriend's aunt who stole my last boyfriend by cooking him delicious apple body paint, which she painted on the cieling.

Anyway, I digress. We decided not to have any pets because of your stupid allergy to furbies and other fuzzy figments of your imagination forevermore also known as farting of the brain - something you became aware of back in 1927 when you fell on a guitar. The guitar that you stole from Lynard Skynard, before their herpes outbreak became public and the chickens got blamed.

I really despise you and your purple PJs with the bottom cutout, who knows why, when you just wet the sheets last week whilst counting the number of teeth lost during your Oyster sexing exam. It's no wonder you have psychotic episodes. Maybe your Prozac pills were flushed away when you dream of chocolate covered snails out of the darkest pit of my childhood.

Let me turn now towards that unreasonable, freaky request you made while ducking under the covers last night. Honestly, what were you thinking?

It isn't enough that you feel that you have to argue with robert the garden gnome and steal his underwear while i water the plastic flowers that are growing from your fungal womanhood.

Speaking of which, you may recall my cream that you borrowed to remove the hair from that particular area, you know, the back. I'm afraid that you got it all over my best friend's favourite chia-pet that I was using to clean your butt hairs out of the frying pan of doom when Gandalf the grey haired Slurpee vendor came out of the closet, don't you? That cream cost upwards of 2,000 marlboro miles that i and shadowfax refuse to come to your house to force you to pay back at last. The final hour has arrived.

I must return this blouse that got stained when we spent that week in that fire station and the ghostbusters ripped my Favorite MC Hammer Poster. Why did i ever let you take pictures of otters? You are superteds spotty arsed friend whom we all call upon when we need plastic bullets for space.

Regardless, I just can't forget the time you spanked my yak with hot buttered dinner rolls. I miss those days. We always went to look for captain planet's polkadotted underwear where no one could see or hear us as we quickly tore open the box of *Cherry Pop-Tarts.  You were*


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## quad b (Sep 19, 2006)

I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my brand new hampster Jack's cage liner paper. You didn't even bother brushing your teeth after eating, and before kissing my sister's boyfriend's aunt who stole my last boyfriend by cooking him delicious apple body paint, which she painted on the cieling.

Anyway, I digress. We decided not to have any pets because of your stupid allergy to furbies and other fuzzy figments of your imagination forevermore also known as farting of the brain - something you became aware of back in 1927 when you fell on a guitar. The guitar that you stole from Lynard Skynard, before their herpes outbreak became public and the chickens got blamed.

I really despise you and your purple PJs with the bottom cutout, who knows why, when you just wet the sheets last week whilst counting the number of teeth lost during your Oyster sexing exam. It's no wonder you have psychotic episodes. Maybe your Prozac pills were flushed away when you dream of chocolate covered snails out of the darkest pit of my childhood.

Let me turn now towards that unreasonable, freaky request you made while ducking under the covers last night. Honestly, what were you thinking?

It isn't enough that you feel that you have to argue with robert the garden gnome and steal his underwear while i water the plastic flowers that are growing from your fungal womanhood.

Speaking of which, you may recall my cream that you borrowed to remove the hair from that particular area, you know, the back. I'm afraid that you got it all over my best friend's favourite chia-pet that I was using to clean your butt hairs out of the frying pan of doom when Gandalf the grey haired Slurpee vendor came out of the closet, don't you? That cream cost upwards of 2,000 marlboro miles that i and shadowfax refuse to come to your house to force you to pay back at last. The final hour has arrived.

I must return this blouse that got stained when we spent that week in that fire station and the ghostbusters ripped my Favorite MC Hammer Poster. Why did i ever let you take pictures of otters? You are superteds spotty arsed friend whom we all call upon when we need plastic bullets for space.

Regardless, I just can't forget the time you spanked my yak with hot buttered dinner rolls. I miss those days. We always went to look for captain planet's polkadotted underwear where no one could see or hear us as we quickly tore open the box of Cherry Pop-Tarts. You were *obviously looking for attention*


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## JDS (Sep 20, 2006)

I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my brand new hampster Jack's cage liner paper. You didn't even bother brushing your teeth after eating, and before kissing my sister's boyfriend's aunt who stole my last boyfriend by cooking him delicious apple body paint, which she painted on the cieling.

Anyway, I digress. We decided not to have any pets because of your stupid allergy to furbies and other fuzzy figments of your imagination forevermore also known as farting of the brain - something you became aware of back in 1927 when you fell on a guitar. The guitar that you stole from Lynard Skynard, before their herpes outbreak became public and the chickens got blamed.

I really despise you and your purple PJs with the bottom cutout, who knows why, when you just wet the sheets last week whilst counting the number of teeth lost during your Oyster sexing exam. It's no wonder you have psychotic episodes. Maybe your Prozac pills were flushed away when you dream of chocolate covered snails out of the darkest pit of my childhood.

Let me turn now towards that unreasonable, freaky request you made while ducking under the covers last night. Honestly, what were you thinking?

It isn't enough that you feel that you have to argue with robert the garden gnome and steal his underwear while i water the plastic flowers that are growing from your fungal womanhood.

Speaking of which, you may recall my cream that you borrowed to remove the hair from that particular area, you know, the back. I'm afraid that you got it all over my best friend's favourite chia-pet that I was using to clean your butt hairs out of the frying pan of doom when Gandalf the grey haired Slurpee vendor came out of the closet, don't you? That cream cost upwards of 2,000 marlboro miles that i and shadowfax refuse to come to your house to force you to pay back at last. The final hour has arrived.

I must return this blouse that got stained when we spent that week in that fire station and the ghostbusters ripped my Favorite MC Hammer Poster. Why did i ever let you take pictures of otters? You are superteds spotty arsed friend whom we all call upon when we need plastic bullets for space.

Regardless, I just can't forget the time you spanked my yak with hot buttered dinner rolls. I miss those days. We always went to look for captain planet's polkadotted underwear where no one could see or hear us as we quickly tore open the box of Cherry Pop-Tarts. You were obviously looking for attention *when you jumped on*


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## JohnMF (Sep 20, 2006)

I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my brand new hampster Jack's cage liner paper. You didn't even bother brushing your teeth after eating, and before kissing my sister's boyfriend's aunt who stole my last boyfriend by cooking him delicious apple body paint, which she painted on the cieling.

Anyway, I digress. We decided not to have any pets because of your stupid allergy to furbies and other fuzzy figments of your imagination forevermore also known as farting of the brain - something you became aware of back in 1927 when you fell on a guitar. The guitar that you stole from Lynard Skynard, before their herpes outbreak became public and the chickens got blamed.

I really despise you and your purple PJs with the bottom cutout, who knows why, when you just wet the sheets last week whilst counting the number of teeth lost during your Oyster sexing exam. It's no wonder you have psychotic episodes. Maybe your Prozac pills were flushed away when you dream of chocolate covered snails out of the darkest pit of my childhood.

Let me turn now towards that unreasonable, freaky request you made while ducking under the covers last night. Honestly, what were you thinking?

It isn't enough that you feel that you have to argue with robert the garden gnome and steal his underwear while i water the plastic flowers that are growing from your fungal womanhood.

Speaking of which, you may recall my cream that you borrowed to remove the hair from that particular area, you know, the back. I'm afraid that you got it all over my best friend's favourite chia-pet that I was using to clean your butt hairs out of the frying pan of doom when Gandalf the grey haired Slurpee vendor came out of the closet, don't you? That cream cost upwards of 2,000 marlboro miles that i and shadowfax refuse to come to your house to force you to pay back at last. The final hour has arrived.

I must return this blouse that got stained when we spent that week in that fire station and the ghostbusters ripped my Favorite MC Hammer Poster. Why did i ever let you take pictures of otters? You are superteds spotty arsed friend whom we all call upon when we need plastic bullets for space.

Regardless, I just can't forget the time you spanked my yak with hot buttered dinner rolls. I miss those days. We always went to look for captain planet's polkadotted underwear where no one could see or hear us as we quickly tore open the box of Cherry Pop-Tarts. You were obviously looking for attention when you jumped on *that defenseless old lady*


----------



## quad b (Sep 21, 2006)

I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my brand new hampster Jack's cage liner paper. You didn't even bother brushing your teeth after eating, and before kissing my sister's boyfriend's aunt who stole my last boyfriend by cooking him delicious apple body paint, which she painted on the cieling.

Anyway, I digress. We decided not to have any pets because of your stupid allergy to furbies and other fuzzy figments of your imagination forevermore also known as farting of the brain - something you became aware of back in 1927 when you fell on a guitar. The guitar that you stole from Lynard Skynard, before their herpes outbreak became public and the chickens got blamed.

I really despise you and your purple PJs with the bottom cutout, who knows why, when you just wet the sheets last week whilst counting the number of teeth lost during your Oyster sexing exam. It's no wonder you have psychotic episodes. Maybe your Prozac pills were flushed away when you dream of chocolate covered snails out of the darkest pit of my childhood.

Let me turn now towards that unreasonable, freaky request you made while ducking under the covers last night. Honestly, what were you thinking?

It isn't enough that you feel that you have to argue with robert the garden gnome and steal his underwear while i water the plastic flowers that are growing from your fungal womanhood.

Speaking of which, you may recall my cream that you borrowed to remove the hair from that particular area, you know, the back. I'm afraid that you got it all over my best friend's favourite chia-pet that I was using to clean your butt hairs out of the frying pan of doom when Gandalf the grey haired Slurpee vendor came out of the closet, don't you? That cream cost upwards of 2,000 marlboro miles that i and shadowfax refuse to come to your house to force you to pay back at last. The final hour has arrived.

I must return this blouse that got stained when we spent that week in that fire station and the ghostbusters ripped my Favorite MC Hammer Poster. Why did i ever let you take pictures of otters? You are superteds spotty arsed friend whom we all call upon when we need plastic bullets for space.

Regardless, I just can't forget the time you spanked my yak with hot buttered dinner rolls. I miss those days. We always went to look for captain planet's polkadotted underwear where no one could see or hear us as we quickly tore open the box of Cherry Pop-Tarts. You were obviously looking for attention when you jumped on that defenseless old lady *who happened to be*


----------



## JohnMF (Sep 21, 2006)

I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my brand new hampster Jack's cage liner paper. You didn't even bother brushing your teeth after eating, and before kissing my sister's boyfriend's aunt who stole my last boyfriend by cooking him delicious apple body paint, which she painted on the cieling.

Anyway, I digress. We decided not to have any pets because of your stupid allergy to furbies and other fuzzy figments of your imagination forevermore also known as farting of the brain - something you became aware of back in 1927 when you fell on a guitar. The guitar that you stole from Lynard Skynard, before their herpes outbreak became public and the chickens got blamed.

I really despise you and your purple PJs with the bottom cutout, who knows why, when you just wet the sheets last week whilst counting the number of teeth lost during your Oyster sexing exam. It's no wonder you have psychotic episodes. Maybe your Prozac pills were flushed away when you dream of chocolate covered snails out of the darkest pit of my childhood.

Let me turn now towards that unreasonable, freaky request you made while ducking under the covers last night. Honestly, what were you thinking?

It isn't enough that you feel that you have to argue with robert the garden gnome and steal his underwear while i water the plastic flowers that are growing from your fungal womanhood.

Speaking of which, you may recall my cream that you borrowed to remove the hair from that particular area, you know, the back. I'm afraid that you got it all over my best friend's favourite chia-pet that I was using to clean your butt hairs out of the frying pan of doom when Gandalf the grey haired Slurpee vendor came out of the closet, don't you? That cream cost upwards of 2,000 marlboro miles that i and shadowfax refuse to come to your house to force you to pay back at last. The final hour has arrived.

I must return this blouse that got stained when we spent that week in that fire station and the ghostbusters ripped my Favorite MC Hammer Poster. Why did i ever let you take pictures of otters? You are superteds spotty arsed friend whom we all call upon when we need plastic bullets for space.

Regardless, I just can't forget the time you spanked my yak with hot buttered dinner rolls. I miss those days. We always went to look for captain planet's polkadotted underwear where no one could see or hear us as we quickly tore open the box of Cherry Pop-Tarts. You were obviously looking for attention when you jumped on that defenseless old lady who happened to be *off her face on*


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## MommyOf4Boys (Sep 21, 2006)

I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my brand new hampster Jack's cage liner paper. You didn't even bother brushing your teeth after eating, and before kissing my sister's boyfriend's aunt who stole my last boyfriend by cooking him delicious apple body paint, which she painted on the cieling.

Anyway, I digress. We decided not to have any pets because of your stupid allergy to furbies and other fuzzy figments of your imagination forevermore also known as farting of the brain - something you became aware of back in 1927 when you fell on a guitar. The guitar that you stole from Lynard Skynard, before their herpes outbreak became public and the chickens got blamed.

I really despise you and your purple PJs with the bottom cutout, who knows why, when you just wet the sheets last week whilst counting the number of teeth lost during your Oyster sexing exam. It's no wonder you have psychotic episodes. Maybe your Prozac pills were flushed away when you dream of chocolate covered snails out of the darkest pit of my childhood.

Let me turn now towards that unreasonable, freaky request you made while ducking under the covers last night. Honestly, what were you thinking?

It isn't enough that you feel that you have to argue with robert the garden gnome and steal his underwear while i water the plastic flowers that are growing from your fungal womanhood.

Speaking of which, you may recall my cream that you borrowed to remove the hair from that particular area, you know, the back. I'm afraid that you got it all over my best friend's favourite chia-pet that I was using to clean your butt hairs out of the frying pan of doom when Gandalf the grey haired Slurpee vendor came out of the closet, don't you? That cream cost upwards of 2,000 marlboro miles that i and shadowfax refuse to come to your house to force you to pay back at last. The final hour has arrived.

I must return this blouse that got stained when we spent that week in that fire station and the ghostbusters ripped my Favorite MC Hammer Poster. Why did i ever let you take pictures of otters? You are superteds spotty arsed friend whom we all call upon when we need plastic bullets for space.

Regardless, I just can't forget the time you spanked my yak with hot buttered dinner rolls. I miss those days. We always went to look for captain planet's polkadotted underwear where no one could see or hear us as we quickly tore open the box of Cherry Pop-Tarts. You were obviously looking for attention when you jumped on that defenseless old lady who happened to be off her face on *darjeeling and peach schnapps.*


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## lostprophet (Sep 21, 2006)

I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my brand new hampster Jack's cage liner paper. You didn't even bother brushing your teeth after eating, and before kissing my sister's boyfriend's aunt who stole my last boyfriend by cooking him delicious apple body paint, which she painted on the cieling.

Anyway, I digress. We decided not to have any pets because of your stupid allergy to furbies and other fuzzy figments of your imagination forevermore also known as farting of the brain - something you became aware of back in 1927 when you fell on a guitar. The guitar that you stole from Lynard Skynard, before their herpes outbreak became public and the chickens got blamed.

I really despise you and your purple PJs with the bottom cutout, who knows why, when you just wet the sheets last week whilst counting the number of teeth lost during your Oyster sexing exam. It's no wonder you have psychotic episodes. Maybe your Prozac pills were flushed away when you dream of chocolate covered snails out of the darkest pit of my childhood.

Let me turn now towards that unreasonable, freaky request you made while ducking under the covers last night. Honestly, what were you thinking?

It isn't enough that you feel that you have to argue with robert the garden gnome and steal his underwear while i water the plastic flowers that are growing from your fungal womanhood.

Speaking of which, you may recall my cream that you borrowed to remove the hair from that particular area, you know, the back. I'm afraid that you got it all over my best friend's favourite chia-pet that I was using to clean your butt hairs out of the frying pan of doom when Gandalf the grey haired Slurpee vendor came out of the closet, don't you? That cream cost upwards of 2,000 marlboro miles that i and shadowfax refuse to come to your house to force you to pay back at last. The final hour has arrived.

I must return this blouse that got stained when we spent that week in that fire station and the ghostbusters ripped my Favorite MC Hammer Poster. Why did i ever let you take pictures of otters? You are superteds spotty arsed friend whom we all call upon when we need plastic bullets for space.

Regardless, I just can't forget the time you spanked my yak with hot buttered dinner rolls. I miss those days. We always went to look for captain planet's polkadotted underwear where no one could see or hear us as we quickly tore open the box of Cherry Pop-Tarts. You were obviously looking for attention when you jumped on that defenseless old lady who happened to be off her face on darjeeling and peach schnapps.

*And why on Earth*


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## morydd (Sep 21, 2006)

I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my brand new hampster Jack's cage liner paper. You didn't even bother brushing your teeth after eating, and before kissing my sister's boyfriend's aunt who stole my last boyfriend by cooking him delicious apple body paint, which she painted on the cieling.

Anyway, I digress. We decided not to have any pets because of your stupid allergy to furbies and other fuzzy figments of your imagination forevermore also known as farting of the brain - something you became aware of back in 1927 when you fell on a guitar. The guitar that you stole from Lynard Skynard, before their herpes outbreak became public and the chickens got blamed.

I really despise you and your purple PJs with the bottom cutout, who knows why, when you just wet the sheets last week whilst counting the number of teeth lost during your Oyster sexing exam. It's no wonder you have psychotic episodes. Maybe your Prozac pills were flushed away when you dream of chocolate covered snails out of the darkest pit of my childhood.

Let me turn now towards that unreasonable, freaky request you made while ducking under the covers last night. Honestly, what were you thinking?

It isn't enough that you feel that you have to argue with robert the garden gnome and steal his underwear while i water the plastic flowers that are growing from your fungal womanhood.

Speaking of which, you may recall my cream that you borrowed to remove the hair from that particular area, you know, the back. I'm afraid that you got it all over my best friend's favourite chia-pet that I was using to clean your butt hairs out of the frying pan of doom when Gandalf the grey haired Slurpee vendor came out of the closet, don't you? That cream cost upwards of 2,000 marlboro miles that i and shadowfax refuse to come to your house to force you to pay back at last. The final hour has arrived.

I must return this blouse that got stained when we spent that week in that fire station and the ghostbusters ripped my Favorite MC Hammer Poster. Why did i ever let you take pictures of otters? You are superteds spotty arsed friend whom we all call upon when we need plastic bullets for space.

Regardless, I just can't forget the time you spanked my yak with hot buttered dinner rolls. I miss those days. We always went to look for captain planet's polkadotted underwear where no one could see or hear us as we quickly tore open the box of Cherry Pop-Tarts. You were obviously looking for attention when you jumped on that defenseless old lady who happened to be off her face on darjeeling and peach schnapps.

And why on Earth *did your monkeys take*


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## Christie Photo (Sep 21, 2006)

I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my brand new hampster Jack's cage liner paper. You didn't even bother brushing your teeth after eating, and before kissing my sister's boyfriend's aunt who stole my last boyfriend by cooking him delicious apple body paint, which she painted on the cieling.

Anyway, I digress. We decided not to have any pets because of your stupid allergy to furbies and other fuzzy figments of your imagination forevermore also known as farting of the brain - something you became aware of back in 1927 when you fell on a guitar. The guitar that you stole from Lynard Skynard, before their herpes outbreak became public and the chickens got blamed.

I really despise you and your purple PJs with the bottom cutout, who knows why, when you just wet the sheets last week whilst counting the number of teeth lost during your Oyster sexing exam. It's no wonder you have psychotic episodes. Maybe your Prozac pills were flushed away when you dream of chocolate covered snails out of the darkest pit of my childhood.

Let me turn now towards that unreasonable, freaky request you made while ducking under the covers last night. Honestly, what were you thinking?

It isn't enough that you feel that you have to argue with robert the garden gnome and steal his underwear while i water the plastic flowers that are growing from your fungal womanhood.

Speaking of which, you may recall my cream that you borrowed to remove the hair from that particular area, you know, the back. I'm afraid that you got it all over my best friend's favourite chia-pet that I was using to clean your butt hairs out of the frying pan of doom when Gandalf the grey haired Slurpee vendor came out of the closet, don't you? That cream cost upwards of 2,000 marlboro miles that i and shadowfax refuse to come to your house to force you to pay back at last. The final hour has arrived.

I must return this blouse that got stained when we spent that week in that fire station and the ghostbusters ripped my Favorite MC Hammer Poster. Why did i ever let you take pictures of otters? You are superteds spotty arsed friend whom we all call upon when we need plastic bullets for space.

Regardless, I just can't forget the time you spanked my yak with hot buttered dinner rolls. I miss those days. We always went to look for captain planet's polkadotted underwear where no one could see or hear us as we quickly tore open the box of Cherry Pop-Tarts. You were obviously looking for attention when you jumped on that defenseless old lady who happened to be off her face on darjeeling and peach schnapps.

And why on Earth did your monkeys take *ALL of my best*


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## chris82 (Sep 21, 2006)

I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my brand new hampster Jack's cage liner paper. You didn't even bother brushing your teeth after eating, and before kissing my sister's boyfriend's aunt who stole my last boyfriend by cooking him delicious apple body paint, which she painted on the cieling.

Anyway, I digress. We decided not to have any pets because of your stupid allergy to furbies and other fuzzy figments of your imagination forevermore also known as farting of the brain - something you became aware of back in 1927 when you fell on a guitar. The guitar that you stole from Lynard Skynard, before their herpes outbreak became public and the chickens got blamed.

I really despise you and your purple PJs with the bottom cutout, who knows why, when you just wet the sheets last week whilst counting the number of teeth lost during your Oyster sexing exam. It's no wonder you have psychotic episodes. Maybe your Prozac pills were flushed away when you dream of chocolate covered snails out of the darkest pit of my childhood.

Let me turn now towards that unreasonable, freaky request you made while ducking under the covers last night. Honestly, what were you thinking?

It isn't enough that you feel that you have to argue with robert the garden gnome and steal his underwear while i water the plastic flowers that are growing from your fungal womanhood.

Speaking of which, you may recall my cream that you borrowed to remove the hair from that particular area, you know, the back. I'm afraid that you got it all over my best friend's favourite chia-pet that I was using to clean your butt hairs out of the frying pan of doom when Gandalf the grey haired Slurpee vendor came out of the closet, don't you? That cream cost upwards of 2,000 marlboro miles that i and shadowfax refuse to come to your house to force you to pay back at last. The final hour has arrived.

I must return this blouse that got stained when we spent that week in that fire station and the ghostbusters ripped my Favorite MC Hammer Poster. Why did i ever let you take pictures of otters? You are superteds spotty arsed friend whom we all call upon when we need plastic bullets for space.

Regardless, I just can't forget the time you spanked my yak with hot buttered dinner rolls. I miss those days. We always went to look for captain planet's polkadotted underwear where no one could see or hear us as we quickly tore open the box of Cherry Pop-Tarts. You were obviously looking for attention when you jumped on that defenseless old lady who happened to be off her face on darjeeling and peach schnapps.

And why on Earth did your monkeys take all of my best *slash metal love songs*


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## MommyOf4Boys (Sep 21, 2006)

I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my brand new hampster Jack's cage liner paper. You didn't even bother brushing your teeth after eating, and before kissing my sister's boyfriend's aunt who stole my last boyfriend by cooking him delicious apple body paint, which she painted on the cieling.

Anyway, I digress. We decided not to have any pets because of your stupid allergy to furbies and other fuzzy figments of your imagination forevermore also known as farting of the brain - something you became aware of back in 1927 when you fell on a guitar. The guitar that you stole from Lynard Skynard, before their herpes outbreak became public and the chickens got blamed.

I really despise you and your purple PJs with the bottom cutout, who knows why, when you just wet the sheets last week whilst counting the number of teeth lost during your Oyster sexing exam. It's no wonder you have psychotic episodes. Maybe your Prozac pills were flushed away when you dream of chocolate covered snails out of the darkest pit of my childhood.

Let me turn now towards that unreasonable, freaky request you made while ducking under the covers last night. Honestly, what were you thinking?

It isn't enough that you feel that you have to argue with robert the garden gnome and steal his underwear while i water the plastic flowers that are growing from your fungal womanhood.

Speaking of which, you may recall my cream that you borrowed to remove the hair from that particular area, you know, the back. I'm afraid that you got it all over my best friend's favourite chia-pet that I was using to clean your butt hairs out of the frying pan of doom when Gandalf the grey haired Slurpee vendor came out of the closet, don't you? That cream cost upwards of 2,000 marlboro miles that i and shadowfax refuse to come to your house to force you to pay back at last. The final hour has arrived.

I must return this blouse that got stained when we spent that week in that fire station and the ghostbusters ripped my Favorite MC Hammer Poster. Why did i ever let you take pictures of otters? You are superteds spotty arsed friend whom we all call upon when we need plastic bullets for space.

Regardless, I just can't forget the time you spanked my yak with hot buttered dinner rolls. I miss those days. We always went to look for captain planet's polkadotted underwear where no one could see or hear us as we quickly tore open the box of Cherry Pop-Tarts. You were obviously looking for attention when you jumped on that defenseless old lady who happened to be off her face on darjeeling and peach schnapps.

And why on Earth did your monkeys take all of my best slash metal love songs *sung by the Partridge Family*


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## chris82 (Sep 21, 2006)

I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my brand new hampster Jack's cage liner paper. You didn't even bother brushing your teeth after eating, and before kissing my sister's boyfriend's aunt who stole my last boyfriend by cooking him delicious apple body paint, which she painted on the cieling.

Anyway, I digress. We decided not to have any pets because of your stupid allergy to furbies and other fuzzy figments of your imagination forevermore also known as farting of the brain - something you became aware of back in 1927 when you fell on a guitar. The guitar that you stole from Lynard Skynard, before their herpes outbreak became public and the chickens got blamed.

I really despise you and your purple PJs with the bottom cutout, who knows why, when you just wet the sheets last week whilst counting the number of teeth lost during your Oyster sexing exam. It's no wonder you have psychotic episodes. Maybe your Prozac pills were flushed away when you dream of chocolate covered snails out of the darkest pit of my childhood.

Let me turn now towards that unreasonable, freaky request you made while ducking under the covers last night. Honestly, what were you thinking?

It isn't enough that you feel that you have to argue with robert the garden gnome and steal his underwear while i water the plastic flowers that are growing from your fungal womanhood.

Speaking of which, you may recall my cream that you borrowed to remove the hair from that particular area, you know, the back. I'm afraid that you got it all over my best friend's favourite chia-pet that I was using to clean your butt hairs out of the frying pan of doom when Gandalf the grey haired Slurpee vendor came out of the closet, don't you? That cream cost upwards of 2,000 marlboro miles that i and shadowfax refuse to come to your house to force you to pay back at last. The final hour has arrived.

I must return this blouse that got stained when we spent that week in that fire station and the ghostbusters ripped my Favorite MC Hammer Poster. Why did i ever let you take pictures of otters? You are superteds spotty arsed friend whom we all call upon when we need plastic bullets for space.

Regardless, I just can't forget the time you spanked my yak with hot buttered dinner rolls. I miss those days. We always went to look for captain planet's polkadotted underwear where no one could see or hear us as we quickly tore open the box of Cherry Pop-Tarts. You were obviously looking for attention when you jumped on that defenseless old lady who happened to be off her face on darjeeling and peach schnapps.

And why on Earth did your monkeys take all of my best slash metal love songs sung by the partridge family* on unighted cristian broadcasting*


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## quad b (Sep 22, 2006)

I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my brand new hampster Jack's cage liner paper. You didn't even bother brushing your teeth after eating, and before kissing my sister's boyfriend's aunt who stole my last boyfriend by cooking him delicious apple body paint, which she painted on the cieling.

Anyway, I digress. We decided not to have any pets because of your stupid allergy to furbies and other fuzzy figments of your imagination forevermore also known as farting of the brain - something you became aware of back in 1927 when you fell on a guitar. The guitar that you stole from Lynard Skynard, before their herpes outbreak became public and the chickens got blamed.

I really despise you and your purple PJs with the bottom cutout, who knows why, when you just wet the sheets last week whilst counting the number of teeth lost during your Oyster sexing exam. It's no wonder you have psychotic episodes. Maybe your Prozac pills were flushed away when you dream of chocolate covered snails out of the darkest pit of my childhood.

Let me turn now towards that unreasonable, freaky request you made while ducking under the covers last night. Honestly, what were you thinking?

It isn't enough that you feel that you have to argue with robert the garden gnome and steal his underwear while i water the plastic flowers that are growing from your fungal womanhood.

Speaking of which, you may recall my cream that you borrowed to remove the hair from that particular area, you know, the back. I'm afraid that you got it all over my best friend's favourite chia-pet that I was using to clean your butt hairs out of the frying pan of doom when Gandalf the grey haired Slurpee vendor came out of the closet, don't you? That cream cost upwards of 2,000 marlboro miles that i and shadowfax refuse to come to your house to force you to pay back at last. The final hour has arrived.

I must return this blouse that got stained when we spent that week in that fire station and the ghostbusters ripped my Favorite MC Hammer Poster. Why did i ever let you take pictures of otters? You are superteds spotty arsed friend whom we all call upon when we need plastic bullets for space.

Regardless, I just can't forget the time you spanked my yak with hot buttered dinner rolls. I miss those days. We always went to look for captain planet's polkadotted underwear where no one could see or hear us as we quickly tore open the box of Cherry Pop-Tarts. You were obviously looking for attention when you jumped on that defenseless old lady who happened to be off her face on darjeeling and peach schnapps.

And why on Earth did your monkeys take all of my best slash metal love songs sung by the partridge familyon unighted cristian broadcasting? *You know I can't*


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## lostprophet (Sep 23, 2006)

I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my brand new hampster Jack's cage liner paper. You didn't even bother brushing your teeth after eating, and before kissing my sister's boyfriend's aunt who stole my last boyfriend by cooking him delicious apple body paint, which she painted on the cieling.

Anyway, I digress. We decided not to have any pets because of your stupid allergy to furbies and other fuzzy figments of your imagination forevermore also known as farting of the brain - something you became aware of back in 1927 when you fell on a guitar. The guitar that you stole from Lynard Skynard, before their herpes outbreak became public and the chickens got blamed.

I really despise you and your purple PJs with the bottom cutout, who knows why, when you just wet the sheets last week whilst counting the number of teeth lost during your Oyster sexing exam. It's no wonder you have psychotic episodes. Maybe your Prozac pills were flushed away when you dream of chocolate covered snails out of the darkest pit of my childhood.

Let me turn now towards that unreasonable, freaky request you made while ducking under the covers last night. Honestly, what were you thinking?

It isn't enough that you feel that you have to argue with robert the garden gnome and steal his underwear while i water the plastic flowers that are growing from your fungal womanhood.

Speaking of which, you may recall my cream that you borrowed to remove the hair from that particular area, you know, the back. I'm afraid that you got it all over my best friend's favourite chia-pet that I was using to clean your butt hairs out of the frying pan of doom when Gandalf the grey haired Slurpee vendor came out of the closet, don't you? That cream cost upwards of 2,000 marlboro miles that i and shadowfax refuse to come to your house to force you to pay back at last. The final hour has arrived.

I must return this blouse that got stained when we spent that week in that fire station and the ghostbusters ripped my Favorite MC Hammer Poster. Why did i ever let you take pictures of otters? You are superteds spotty arsed friend whom we all call upon when we need plastic bullets for space.

Regardless, I just can't forget the time you spanked my yak with hot buttered dinner rolls. I miss those days. We always went to look for captain planet's polkadotted underwear where no one could see or hear us as we quickly tore open the box of Cherry Pop-Tarts. You were obviously looking for attention when you jumped on that defenseless old lady who happened to be off her face on darjeeling and peach schnapps.

And why on Earth did your monkeys take all of my best slash metal love songs sung by the partridge familyon unighted cristian broadcasting? You know I can't *take photos of Otters*


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## chris82 (Sep 23, 2006)

I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my brand new hampster Jack's cage liner paper. You didn't even bother brushing your teeth after eating, and before kissing my sister's boyfriend's aunt who stole my last boyfriend by cooking him delicious apple body paint, which she painted on the cieling.

Anyway, I digress. We decided not to have any pets because of your stupid allergy to furbies and other fuzzy figments of your imagination forevermore also known as farting of the brain - something you became aware of back in 1927 when you fell on a guitar. The guitar that you stole from Lynard Skynard, before their herpes outbreak became public and the chickens got blamed.

I really despise you and your purple PJs with the bottom cutout, who knows why, when you just wet the sheets last week whilst counting the number of teeth lost during your Oyster sexing exam. It's no wonder you have psychotic episodes. Maybe your Prozac pills were flushed away when you dream of chocolate covered snails out of the darkest pit of my childhood.

Let me turn now towards that unreasonable, freaky request you made while ducking under the covers last night. Honestly, what were you thinking?

It isn't enough that you feel that you have to argue with robert the garden gnome and steal his underwear while i water the plastic flowers that are growing from your fungal womanhood.

Speaking of which, you may recall my cream that you borrowed to remove the hair from that particular area, you know, the back. I'm afraid that you got it all over my best friend's favourite chia-pet that I was using to clean your butt hairs out of the frying pan of doom when Gandalf the grey haired Slurpee vendor came out of the closet, don't you? That cream cost upwards of 2,000 marlboro miles that i and shadowfax refuse to come to your house to force you to pay back at last. The final hour has arrived.

I must return this blouse that got stained when we spent that week in that fire station and the ghostbusters ripped my Favorite MC Hammer Poster. Why did i ever let you take pictures of otters? You are superteds spotty arsed friend whom we all call upon when we need plastic bullets for space.

Regardless, I just can't forget the time you spanked my yak with hot buttered dinner rolls. I miss those days. We always went to look for captain planet's polkadotted underwear where no one could see or hear us as we quickly tore open the box of Cherry Pop-Tarts. You were obviously looking for attention when you jumped on that defenseless old lady who happened to be off her face on darjeeling and peach schnapps.

And why on Earth did your monkeys take all of my best slash metal love songs sung by the partridge familyon unighted cristian broadcasting? You know I can't take photos of otters* because mr potato head*


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## lostprophet (Sep 23, 2006)

I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my brand new hampster Jack's cage liner paper. You didn't even bother brushing your teeth after eating, and before kissing my sister's boyfriend's aunt who stole my last boyfriend by cooking him delicious apple body paint, which she painted on the cieling.

Anyway, I digress. We decided not to have any pets because of your stupid allergy to furbies and other fuzzy figments of your imagination forevermore also known as farting of the brain - something you became aware of back in 1927 when you fell on a guitar. The guitar that you stole from Lynard Skynard, before their herpes outbreak became public and the chickens got blamed.

I really despise you and your purple PJs with the bottom cutout, who knows why, when you just wet the sheets last week whilst counting the number of teeth lost during your Oyster sexing exam. It's no wonder you have psychotic episodes. Maybe your Prozac pills were flushed away when you dream of chocolate covered snails out of the darkest pit of my childhood.

Let me turn now towards that unreasonable, freaky request you made while ducking under the covers last night. Honestly, what were you thinking?

It isn't enough that you feel that you have to argue with robert the garden gnome and steal his underwear while i water the plastic flowers that are growing from your fungal womanhood.

Speaking of which, you may recall my cream that you borrowed to remove the hair from that particular area, you know, the back. I'm afraid that you got it all over my best friend's favourite chia-pet that I was using to clean your butt hairs out of the frying pan of doom when Gandalf the grey haired Slurpee vendor came out of the closet, don't you? That cream cost upwards of 2,000 marlboro miles that i and shadowfax refuse to come to your house to force you to pay back at last. The final hour has arrived.

I must return this blouse that got stained when we spent that week in that fire station and the ghostbusters ripped my Favorite MC Hammer Poster. Why did i ever let you take pictures of otters? You are superteds spotty arsed friend whom we all call upon when we need plastic bullets for space.

Regardless, I just can't forget the time you spanked my yak with hot buttered dinner rolls. I miss those days. We always went to look for captain planet's polkadotted underwear where no one could see or hear us as we quickly tore open the box of Cherry Pop-Tarts. You were obviously looking for attention when you jumped on that defenseless old lady who happened to be off her face on darjeeling and peach schnapps.

And why on Earth did your monkeys take all of my best slash metal love songs sung by the partridge familyon unighted cristian broadcasting? You know I can't take photos of ottersbecause mr potato head *loves you and not*


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## chris82 (Sep 23, 2006)

I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my brand new hampster Jack's cage liner paper. You didn't even bother brushing your teeth after eating, and before kissing my sister's boyfriend's aunt who stole my last boyfriend by cooking him delicious apple body paint, which she painted on the cieling.

Anyway, I digress. We decided not to have any pets because of your stupid allergy to furbies and other fuzzy figments of your imagination forevermore also known as farting of the brain - something you became aware of back in 1927 when you fell on a guitar. The guitar that you stole from Lynard Skynard, before their herpes outbreak became public and the chickens got blamed.

I really despise you and your purple PJs with the bottom cutout, who knows why, when you just wet the sheets last week whilst counting the number of teeth lost during your Oyster sexing exam. It's no wonder you have psychotic episodes. Maybe your Prozac pills were flushed away when you dream of chocolate covered snails out of the darkest pit of my childhood.

Let me turn now towards that unreasonable, freaky request you made while ducking under the covers last night. Honestly, what were you thinking?

It isn't enough that you feel that you have to argue with robert the garden gnome and steal his underwear while i water the plastic flowers that are growing from your fungal womanhood.

Speaking of which, you may recall my cream that you borrowed to remove the hair from that particular area, you know, the back. I'm afraid that you got it all over my best friend's favourite chia-pet that I was using to clean your butt hairs out of the frying pan of doom when Gandalf the grey haired Slurpee vendor came out of the closet, don't you? That cream cost upwards of 2,000 marlboro miles that i and shadowfax refuse to come to your house to force you to pay back at last. The final hour has arrived.

I must return this blouse that got stained when we spent that week in that fire station and the ghostbusters ripped my Favorite MC Hammer Poster. Why did i ever let you take pictures of otters? You are superteds spotty arsed friend whom we all call upon when we need plastic bullets for space.

Regardless, I just can't forget the time you spanked my yak with hot buttered dinner rolls. I miss those days. We always went to look for captain planet's polkadotted underwear where no one could see or hear us as we quickly tore open the box of Cherry Pop-Tarts. You were obviously looking for attention when you jumped on that defenseless old lady who happened to be off her face on darjeeling and peach schnapps.

And why on Earth did your monkeys take all of my best slash metal love songs sung by the partridge familyon unighted cristian broadcasting? You know I can't take photos of otters because mr potato head loves you and not* robert your mothers brother*


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## magicmonkey (Sep 23, 2006)

I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my brand new hampster Jack's cage liner paper. You didn't even bother brushing your teeth after eating, and before kissing my sister's boyfriend's aunt who stole my last boyfriend by cooking him delicious apple body paint, which she painted on the cieling.

Anyway, I digress. We decided not to have any pets because of your stupid allergy to furbies and other fuzzy figments of your imagination forevermore also known as farting of the brain - something you became aware of back in 1927 when you fell on a guitar. The guitar that you stole from Lynard Skynard, before their herpes outbreak became public and the chickens got blamed.

I really despise you and your purple PJs with the bottom cutout, who knows why, when you just wet the sheets last week whilst counting the number of teeth lost during your Oyster sexing exam. It's no wonder you have psychotic episodes. Maybe your Prozac pills were flushed away when you dream of chocolate covered snails out of the darkest pit of my childhood.

Let me turn now towards that unreasonable, freaky request you made while ducking under the covers last night. Honestly, what were you thinking?

It isn't enough that you feel that you have to argue with robert the garden gnome and steal his underwear while i water the plastic flowers that are growing from your fungal womanhood.

Speaking of which, you may recall my cream that you borrowed to remove the hair from that particular area, you know, the back. I'm afraid that you got it all over my best friend's favourite chia-pet that I was using to clean your butt hairs out of the frying pan of doom when Gandalf the grey haired Slurpee vendor came out of the closet, don't you? That cream cost upwards of 2,000 marlboro miles that i and shadowfax refuse to come to your house to force you to pay back at last. The final hour has arrived.

I must return this blouse that got stained when we spent that week in that fire station and the ghostbusters ripped my Favorite MC Hammer Poster. Why did i ever let you take pictures of otters? You are superteds spotty arsed friend whom we all call upon when we need plastic bullets for space.

Regardless, I just can't forget the time you spanked my yak with hot buttered dinner rolls. I miss those days. We always went to look for captain planet's polkadotted underwear where no one could see or hear us as we quickly tore open the box of Cherry Pop-Tarts. You were obviously looking for attention when you jumped on that defenseless old lady who happened to be off her face on darjeeling and peach schnapps.

And why on Earth did your monkeys take all of my best slash metal love songs sung by the partridge familyon unighted cristian broadcasting? You know I can't take photos of otters because mr potato head loves you and not robert your mothers brother, *even though he's terribly*


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## lostprophet (Sep 23, 2006)

I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my brand new hampster Jack's cage liner paper. You didn't even bother brushing your teeth after eating, and before kissing my sister's boyfriend's aunt who stole my last boyfriend by cooking him delicious apple body paint, which she painted on the cieling.

Anyway, I digress. We decided not to have any pets because of your stupid allergy to furbies and other fuzzy figments of your imagination forevermore also known as farting of the brain - something you became aware of back in 1927 when you fell on a guitar. The guitar that you stole from Lynard Skynard, before their herpes outbreak became public and the chickens got blamed.

I really despise you and your purple PJs with the bottom cutout, who knows why, when you just wet the sheets last week whilst counting the number of teeth lost during your Oyster sexing exam. It's no wonder you have psychotic episodes. Maybe your Prozac pills were flushed away when you dream of chocolate covered snails out of the darkest pit of my childhood.

Let me turn now towards that unreasonable, freaky request you made while ducking under the covers last night. Honestly, what were you thinking?

It isn't enough that you feel that you have to argue with robert the garden gnome and steal his underwear while i water the plastic flowers that are growing from your fungal womanhood.

Speaking of which, you may recall my cream that you borrowed to remove the hair from that particular area, you know, the back. I'm afraid that you got it all over my best friend's favourite chia-pet that I was using to clean your butt hairs out of the frying pan of doom when Gandalf the grey haired Slurpee vendor came out of the closet, don't you? That cream cost upwards of 2,000 marlboro miles that i and shadowfax refuse to come to your house to force you to pay back at last. The final hour has arrived.

I must return this blouse that got stained when we spent that week in that fire station and the ghostbusters ripped my Favorite MC Hammer Poster. Why did i ever let you take pictures of otters? You are superteds spotty arsed friend whom we all call upon when we need plastic bullets for space.

Regardless, I just can't forget the time you spanked my yak with hot buttered dinner rolls. I miss those days. We always went to look for captain planet's polkadotted underwear where no one could see or hear us as we quickly tore open the box of Cherry Pop-Tarts. You were obviously looking for attention when you jumped on that defenseless old lady who happened to be off her face on darjeeling and peach schnapps.

And why on Earth did your monkeys take all of my best slash metal love songs sung by the partridge familyon unighted cristian broadcasting? You know I can't take photos of otters because mr potato head loves you and not robert your mothers brother, even though he's terribly *tall and he once*


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## chris82 (Sep 23, 2006)

I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my brand new hampster Jack's cage liner paper. You didn't even bother brushing your teeth after eating, and before kissing my sister's boyfriend's aunt who stole my last boyfriend by cooking him delicious apple body paint, which she painted on the cieling.

Anyway, I digress. We decided not to have any pets because of your stupid allergy to furbies and other fuzzy figments of your imagination forevermore also known as farting of the brain - something you became aware of back in 1927 when you fell on a guitar. The guitar that you stole from Lynard Skynard, before their herpes outbreak became public and the chickens got blamed.

I really despise you and your purple PJs with the bottom cutout, who knows why, when you just wet the sheets last week whilst counting the number of teeth lost during your Oyster sexing exam. It's no wonder you have psychotic episodes. Maybe your Prozac pills were flushed away when you dream of chocolate covered snails out of the darkest pit of my childhood.

Let me turn now towards that unreasonable, freaky request you made while ducking under the covers last night. Honestly, what were you thinking?

It isn't enough that you feel that you have to argue with robert the garden gnome and steal his underwear while i water the plastic flowers that are growing from your fungal womanhood.

Speaking of which, you may recall my cream that you borrowed to remove the hair from that particular area, you know, the back. I'm afraid that you got it all over my best friend's favourite chia-pet that I was using to clean your butt hairs out of the frying pan of doom when Gandalf the grey haired Slurpee vendor came out of the closet, don't you? That cream cost upwards of 2,000 marlboro miles that i and shadowfax refuse to come to your house to force you to pay back at last. The final hour has arrived.

I must return this blouse that got stained when we spent that week in that fire station and the ghostbusters ripped my Favorite MC Hammer Poster. Why did i ever let you take pictures of otters? You are superteds spotty arsed friend whom we all call upon when we need plastic bullets for space.

Regardless, I just can't forget the time you spanked my yak with hot buttered dinner rolls. I miss those days. We always went to look for captain planet's polkadotted underwear where no one could see or hear us as we quickly tore open the box of Cherry Pop-Tarts. You were obviously looking for attention when you jumped on that defenseless old lady who happened to be off her face on darjeeling and peach schnapps.

And why on Earth did your monkeys take all of my best slash metal love songs sung by the partridge familyon unighted cristian broadcasting? You know I can't take photos of otters because mr potato head loves you and not robert your mothers brother, even though he's terribly tall and he once *kissed a girraff but*


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## lostprophet (Sep 23, 2006)

I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my brand new hampster Jack's cage liner paper. You didn't even bother brushing your teeth after eating, and before kissing my sister's boyfriend's aunt who stole my last boyfriend by cooking him delicious apple body paint, which she painted on the cieling.

Anyway, I digress. We decided not to have any pets because of your stupid allergy to furbies and other fuzzy figments of your imagination forevermore also known as farting of the brain - something you became aware of back in 1927 when you fell on a guitar. The guitar that you stole from Lynard Skynard, before their herpes outbreak became public and the chickens got blamed.

I really despise you and your purple PJs with the bottom cutout, who knows why, when you just wet the sheets last week whilst counting the number of teeth lost during your Oyster sexing exam. It's no wonder you have psychotic episodes. Maybe your Prozac pills were flushed away when you dream of chocolate covered snails out of the darkest pit of my childhood.

Let me turn now towards that unreasonable, freaky request you made while ducking under the covers last night. Honestly, what were you thinking?

It isn't enough that you feel that you have to argue with robert the garden gnome and steal his underwear while i water the plastic flowers that are growing from your fungal womanhood.

Speaking of which, you may recall my cream that you borrowed to remove the hair from that particular area, you know, the back. I'm afraid that you got it all over my best friend's favourite chia-pet that I was using to clean your butt hairs out of the frying pan of doom when Gandalf the grey haired Slurpee vendor came out of the closet, don't you? That cream cost upwards of 2,000 marlboro miles that i and shadowfax refuse to come to your house to force you to pay back at last. The final hour has arrived.

I must return this blouse that got stained when we spent that week in that fire station and the ghostbusters ripped my Favorite MC Hammer Poster. Why did i ever let you take pictures of otters? You are superteds spotty arsed friend whom we all call upon when we need plastic bullets for space.

Regardless, I just can't forget the time you spanked my yak with hot buttered dinner rolls. I miss those days. We always went to look for captain planet's polkadotted underwear where no one could see or hear us as we quickly tore open the box of Cherry Pop-Tarts. You were obviously looking for attention when you jumped on that defenseless old lady who happened to be off her face on darjeeling and peach schnapps.

And why on Earth did your monkeys take all of my best slash metal love songs sung by the partridge familyon unighted cristian broadcasting? You know I can't take photos of otters because mr potato head loves you and not robert your mothers brother, even though he's terribly tall and he once kissed a girraff but *he had bad breath*


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## chris82 (Sep 23, 2006)

I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my brand new hampster Jack's cage liner paper. You didn't even bother brushing your teeth after eating, and before kissing my sister's boyfriend's aunt who stole my last boyfriend by cooking him delicious apple body paint, which she painted on the cieling.

Anyway, I digress. We decided not to have any pets because of your stupid allergy to furbies and other fuzzy figments of your imagination forevermore also known as farting of the brain - something you became aware of back in 1927 when you fell on a guitar. The guitar that you stole from Lynard Skynard, before their herpes outbreak became public and the chickens got blamed.

I really despise you and your purple PJs with the bottom cutout, who knows why, when you just wet the sheets last week whilst counting the number of teeth lost during your Oyster sexing exam. It's no wonder you have psychotic episodes. Maybe your Prozac pills were flushed away when you dream of chocolate covered snails out of the darkest pit of my childhood.

Let me turn now towards that unreasonable, freaky request you made while ducking under the covers last night. Honestly, what were you thinking?

It isn't enough that you feel that you have to argue with robert the garden gnome and steal his underwear while i water the plastic flowers that are growing from your fungal womanhood.

Speaking of which, you may recall my cream that you borrowed to remove the hair from that particular area, you know, the back. I'm afraid that you got it all over my best friend's favourite chia-pet that I was using to clean your butt hairs out of the frying pan of doom when Gandalf the grey haired Slurpee vendor came out of the closet, don't you? That cream cost upwards of 2,000 marlboro miles that i and shadowfax refuse to come to your house to force you to pay back at last. The final hour has arrived.

I must return this blouse that got stained when we spent that week in that fire station and the ghostbusters ripped my Favorite MC Hammer Poster. Why did i ever let you take pictures of otters? You are superteds spotty arsed friend whom we all call upon when we need plastic bullets for space.

Regardless, I just can't forget the time you spanked my yak with hot buttered dinner rolls. I miss those days. We always went to look for captain planet's polkadotted underwear where no one could see or hear us as we quickly tore open the box of Cherry Pop-Tarts. You were obviously looking for attention when you jumped on that defenseless old lady who happened to be off her face on darjeeling and peach schnapps.

And why on Earth did your monkeys take all of my best slash metal love songs sung by the partridge familyon unighted cristian broadcasting? You know I can't take photos of otters because mr potato head loves you and not robert your mothers brother, even though he's terribly tall and he once kissed a girraff but he had bad breath,*you!!not the girraff*


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## MommyOf4Boys (Sep 23, 2006)

I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my brand new hampster Jack's cage liner paper. You didn't even bother brushing your teeth after eating, and before kissing my sister's boyfriend's aunt who stole my last boyfriend by cooking him delicious apple body paint, which she painted on the cieling.

Anyway, I digress. We decided not to have any pets because of your stupid allergy to furbies and other fuzzy figments of your imagination forevermore also known as farting of the brain - something you became aware of back in 1927 when you fell on a guitar. The guitar that you stole from Lynard Skynard, before their herpes outbreak became public and the chickens got blamed.

I really despise you and your purple PJs with the bottom cutout, who knows why, when you just wet the sheets last week whilst counting the number of teeth lost during your Oyster sexing exam. It's no wonder you have psychotic episodes. Maybe your Prozac pills were flushed away when you dream of chocolate covered snails out of the darkest pit of my childhood.

Let me turn now towards that unreasonable, freaky request you made while ducking under the covers last night. Honestly, what were you thinking?

It isn't enough that you feel that you have to argue with robert the garden gnome and steal his underwear while i water the plastic flowers that are growing from your fungal womanhood.

Speaking of which, you may recall my cream that you borrowed to remove the hair from that particular area, you know, the back. I'm afraid that you got it all over my best friend's favourite chia-pet that I was using to clean your butt hairs out of the frying pan of doom when Gandalf the grey haired Slurpee vendor came out of the closet, don't you? That cream cost upwards of 2,000 marlboro miles that i and shadowfax refuse to come to your house to force you to pay back at last. The final hour has arrived.

I must return this blouse that got stained when we spent that week in that fire station and the ghostbusters ripped my Favorite MC Hammer Poster. Why did i ever let you take pictures of otters? You are superteds spotty arsed friend whom we all call upon when we need plastic bullets for space.

Regardless, I just can't forget the time you spanked my yak with hot buttered dinner rolls. I miss those days. We always went to look for captain planet's polkadotted underwear where no one could see or hear us as we quickly tore open the box of Cherry Pop-Tarts. You were obviously looking for attention when you jumped on that defenseless old lady who happened to be off her face on darjeeling and peach schnapps.

And why on Earth did your monkeys take all of my best slash metal love songs sung by the partridge family on united Cristian broadcasting? You know I can't take photos of otters because mr potato head loves you and not robert your mothers brother, even though he's terribly tall and he once kissed a girraff but he had bad breath,you!!not the girraff *obviously, because I never
*


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## boris152 (Sep 24, 2006)

I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my brand new hampster Jack's cage liner paper. You didn't even bother brushing your teeth after eating, and before kissing my sister's boyfriend's aunt who stole my last boyfriend by cooking him delicious apple body paint, which she painted on the cieling.

Anyway, I digress. We decided not to have any pets because of your stupid allergy to furbies and other fuzzy figments of your imagination forevermore also known as farting of the brain - something you became aware of back in 1927 when you fell on a guitar. The guitar that you stole from Lynard Skynard, before their herpes outbreak became public and the chickens got blamed.

I really despise you and your purple PJs with the bottom cutout, who knows why, when you just wet the sheets last week whilst counting the number of teeth lost during your Oyster sexing exam. It's no wonder you have psychotic episodes. Maybe your Prozac pills were flushed away when you dream of chocolate covered snails out of the darkest pit of my childhood.

Let me turn now towards that unreasonable, freaky request you made while ducking under the covers last night. Honestly, what were you thinking?

It isn't enough that you feel that you have to argue with robert the garden gnome and steal his underwear while i water the plastic flowers that are growing from your fungal womanhood.

Speaking of which, you may recall my cream that you borrowed to remove the hair from that particular area, you know, the back. I'm afraid that you got it all over my best friend's favourite chia-pet that I was using to clean your butt hairs out of the frying pan of doom when Gandalf the grey haired Slurpee vendor came out of the closet, don't you? That cream cost upwards of 2,000 marlboro miles that i and shadowfax refuse to come to your house to force you to pay back at last. The final hour has arrived.

I must return this blouse that got stained when we spent that week in that fire station and the ghostbusters ripped my Favorite MC Hammer Poster. Why did i ever let you take pictures of otters? You are superteds spotty arsed friend whom we all call upon when we need plastic bullets for space.

Regardless, I just can't forget the time you spanked my yak with hot buttered dinner rolls. I miss those days. We always went to look for captain planet's polkadotted underwear where no one could see or hear us as we quickly tore open the box of Cherry Pop-Tarts. You were obviously looking for attention when you jumped on that defenseless old lady who happened to be off her face on darjeeling and peach schnapps.

And why on Earth did your monkeys take all of my best slash metal love songs sung by the partridge family on united Cristian broadcasting? You know I can't take photos of otters because mr potato head loves you and not robert your mothers brother, even though he's terribly tall and he once kissed a girraff but he had bad breath,you!!not the girraff obviously, because I never *heard one hand clapping*


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## chris82 (Sep 24, 2006)

I'm leaving you because only yesterday you ate the last of my brand new hampster Jack's cage liner paper. You didn't even bother brushing your teeth after eating, and before kissing my sister's boyfriend's aunt who stole my last boyfriend by cooking him delicious apple body paint, which she painted on the cieling.

Anyway, I digress. We decided not to have any pets because of your stupid allergy to furbies and other fuzzy figments of your imagination forevermore also known as farting of the brain - something you became aware of back in 1927 when you fell on a guitar. The guitar that you stole from Lynard Skynard, before their herpes outbreak became public and the chickens got blamed.

I really despise you and your purple PJs with the bottom cutout, who knows why, when you just wet the sheets last week whilst counting the number of teeth lost during your Oyster sexing exam. It's no wonder you have psychotic episodes. Maybe your Prozac pills were flushed away when you dream of chocolate covered snails out of the darkest pit of my childhood.

Let me turn now towards that unreasonable, freaky request you made while ducking under the covers last night. Honestly, what were you thinking?

It isn't enough that you feel that you have to argue with robert the garden gnome and steal his underwear while i water the plastic flowers that are growing from your fungal womanhood.

Speaking of which, you may recall my cream that you borrowed to remove the hair from that particular area, you know, the back. I'm afraid that you got it all over my best friend's favourite chia-pet that I was using to clean your butt hairs out of the frying pan of doom when Gandalf the grey haired Slurpee vendor came out of the closet, don't you? That cream cost upwards of 2,000 marlboro miles that i and shadowfax refuse to come to your house to force you to pay back at last. The final hour has arrived.

I must return this blouse that got stained when we spent that week in that fire station and the ghostbusters ripped my Favorite MC Hammer Poster. Why did i ever let you take pictures of otters? You are superteds spotty arsed friend whom we all call upon when we need plastic bullets for space.

Regardless, I just can't forget the time you spanked my yak with hot buttered dinner rolls. I miss those days. We always went to look for captain planet's polkadotted underwear where no one could see or hear us as we quickly tore open the box of Cherry Pop-Tarts. You were obviously looking for attention when you jumped on that defenseless old lady who happened to be off her face on darjeeling and peach schnapps.

And why on Earth did your monkeys take all of my best slash metal love songs sung by the partridge family on united Cristian broadcasting? You know I can't take photos of otters because mr potato head loves you and not robert your mothers brother, even though he's terribly tall and he once kissed a girraff but he had bad breath,you!!not the girraff obviously, because I never heard one hand clapping *the power rangers as*


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