To All You Virgins, Thanks
For Nothing Shirt. Let those
pesky virgins know how
you really feel with this t-shirt.
According to Cap’n Slappy,
one of lads let out a loud piercing “Aaarrr.”
Slappy’s kind of ugly, but at least his head
stays on! Make a little pilgrim hat
with the black paper or foam. Glue
the head/neck to the Popsicle stick.
Wild turkeys do not have wattles.
Now, do turkeys have lips?
Click here to have those misgivings
erased for good. Cut head off and
freeze as quickly as possible.
Exactly, which part of the turkey’s
head is the “cap,” “snood,” “caruncles,”
and “wattles”? I discovered an old
ventriloquist dummy in the trash
and named it Slappy. Lets call the skin
below the eyes “cheeks.” Freeze heads
in a small amount of water in a Ziploc bag.
Place heads in a trash bag and triple bag
or ship in a disposable water tight container.
A trumpet fanfare will greet ‘The Happiest
Turkey on Earth.’ Perhaps under the big top
he was known as Squiggles or Slappy.
Put in a box and insulate with newspapers.
(It is very important to make sure your
package does not leak as it thaws)
Ship your head Next Day Air UPS.
TAXIDERMY FREEZE DRY
PAINTED TURKEY HEADS,
UNPAINTED TURKEY HEADS,
DEER FEET GUN RACKS AND ETC,
VELVET ANTLERS. Girl, defining
turkey head parts, gives you a blowjob.
She suck repeatedly until you reach
orgasm. Like a turkey whos on a walk
shackin its head back and forth.
Why the mother fuck is Uncle Slappy
on my side of a debate? The “snood” is
like George said: an adorable turkey head
that is disguised as an Indian for Thanksgiving.
Please enclose a packing list with your heads.
Name, address, phone #, and complete list
of heads and positions. If your heads are sent
fresh and frozen, the quality of your heads
will be noticeably better. I’m in my Turkey
Head and Chimera costumes today (though
I still have misgivings resembling fuzzy,
slappy stuff). ‘Sounds good to me! From
now on, those folds on a turkeys face are
cheeks!’ If we receive your heads brown
and thawed, you are going to lose a lot
of detail and quality, and possibly epidermis
slippage. Sink car flip lead gonna slappy.
Remember to choose in which position
you wish to have your head(s) returned:
strut, flared strut, half strut, running,
running open mouth, standing alert,
walking, fighting, roosting, gobbling,
flying or flying open mouth. Thanks
for nothing, China. Thanks for nothing,
Madame Pelosi. Thanks for nothing, urban
outfitters. Thanks for nothing, congress.
Thanks for nothing, Disney. Thanks for
nothing, Chilean miners. Thanks for nothing,
Paula Abdul. Thanks for nothing, best buy,
Thanks for nothing, Cindy McCain
Draw a turkey head and neck on the
brown paper or foam. This is a drawing
Today’s “creative visualisation” coping strategy: I shrink them down really really tiny, strip them naked, then put them in a Chinese takeout box. I breathe all over them. Then I vomit a little, close the tabs, and shake the carton around.
The vomit seeps into them. Gets in their eyelashes, their nostrils. A chunk gets stuck in their navels. Their hair gets matted with it. Of course it is so gross, and kind of pinkish, like spaghetti throwup, that they start vomiting, too, but in tiny amounts because I have made them so tiny.
They start slipping in it and the vomit gets in their asscracks, in her genitals, mats up their pubic hair. There’s vomit in between their fingers, in back of their ears. They try to fuck to make themselves feel better, but they can’t because he is limp with all the grossness and shame. He still has a nearly-suppurating sore on his paunch that looks like it needs to be popped with a sterile instrument. The acidity of the throwup irritates it and he begs her to suck it clean.
She assents, partly because she is so stupid and partly because she’s stuck inside that vomity box with him. How will she get out? I decide to turn the box upside down. Then… I stick it in the freezer.
I read Edward Said and feel bad about my orientalism.
I can watch the process of my orientalism, but cannot stop its progress or my attachment to it.
There is something inscrutably authentic about my Orientalism that is not present in that of others.
I read through my orientalism to create a character that took details seriously. Generalizations were viewed as generalizations. I learnt the art of reading.
My orientalism costume made me look dowdy. I can still wear the wig because it’s a flapper bob. I just wish I had a fabulous tasseled dress.
The bloom of my Orientalism is fresh upon me, and this apathy and listlessness have laid hold.
It goes with my Orientalism collectibles 🙂 However, there are so many nice rose/oud scents on the market these days.
My Orientalism was primarily a childhood and adolescent phenomenon.
I come by my orientalism honestly: spontaneous joy, travel, Turks, woodcuts, wormholes, Circuses, Shriners, and Fairs, Oh My: Orientalism… a dream of minarets and domes, or dark-eyed houris reclining in perfumed gardens, of obese sheiks and sultans with a harem of the unwilling.
My “orientalism” had been elevated to such a sexual degree that little else mattered. And you know what? That just made me feel lousy.
In my Orientalism, neither the term Orient nor the concept of the West has any ontological stability.
You may be right about my “orientalism” and deep down, below the surface of an emancipated male, I even may want to be a patriarch.
I borrowed a ribald poem with the word “meat-stick” in it, to drum out the last chapter of my Orientalism.
Coloring pages of
peter pan and tinkerbell:
You are my orientalism,
bitterly enabling of you.
Strong year, and however
fix its humane father.
my orientalism. Sufism.
What would Saíd’ve said?
Meaning or sound?
Where does the river bend?
approach myself quite my
quarterstaffs, with my
the chicot and my ringtones
on the lactate in my
orientalism, and gargle
to it, and haphazardly
with my orientalism upon.
I could murk a siouan
many stoplight that were
not twinkling before.
Lexicon, how could she
with a renunciant to
holyrood house; my
feminize from the
addiction, I pharmacy
my orientalism important
what is meth amphetamine.
I Found the Best Orientalism Online.
I bought my Orientalism with ease
and the low cost was inexpressible.
My Orientalism arrived in a week
from my seller.
Upon closer inspection, he finds it to be the giant egg of a Roc, a type of immense dragon-like bird.
Tastes like bopis, fills like linguine, yet still has the unique appeal of fresh hand-pulled noodles. This is my orientalism at its best.
Whether you just need a small affirmation that everything’s going fine or you are looking for a big leg up toward a firmer foundation, reach out for help today. There are people on the sidelines just waiting to get in on the action of your life. They have good ideas and strong shoulders — lean on them without hesitation. It’s all part of the exchange — you give to them, they give to you — life is a collaboration and everyone needs help once in a while.
OK, I need help, it’s been a terrible week, I’m losing it.
To come open or fly
apart suddenly or
from internal pressure.
The sky erupts. Cities
darken, food spoils
and homes fall silent.
Civilization collapses in
color and noise — and
just a tinge of sadness:
burst sunk penguins go
from eyesore to eye-
popping, and the explosion
of the firecrackers
awoke the heavy rain
descends, the swollen torrents
come, and the winds blow
and burst upon the house,
and it falls; and disastrous
is the fall, unleashing
a burst of chaotic energy
at an enemy, then jumping
to additional nearby enemies
in the catastrophic explosion
of a massive star
dealing X damage
to target creature or player:
it’s poppycock but the need
to dismantle this
like the uniformity
of bud burst after breaking
dormancy. An unusual and
rarely flowering plant
known as turkeybeard was
found blooming profusely.
How made a homemade chastity belt?
Irish multi coloured glass vases.
Cirque du soleil bulges male burst
heavily ugly compound and complex
sentences, the bags of cocaine
he swallowed. Can you burst
a breast cyst? What happens if
a cyst bursts in your mouth?
burst mode · burst shaping · bursty ·
to break open or apart suddenly,
or to make something do this.
The old participle bursten
is nearly obsolete… as,
to burst from a prison;
the heart bursts with grief.
to stop crying.
he is hateful.
Across from me on the train this morning
a woman reading “Folly”—not mine—something
written by a man with white hair, and in hardback.
Hard. Hardness. A synthetic creation turns into a living
creature thanks to color, and lighting, and visual effects,
whispering come here, come here, and go away. Peculiarity.
Pink filling, clear finish powder filling,
silk tips with powder, paraffin, buff, gel.
O these happy grey delusions: wisteria drooping
down on the stupidity of the besotted. Tearing:
the big fluffy dumpling of dissatisfaction.
I move into the flow of tears (big deal) like
another art experiment in the etiology of
decoration. Girls scrumptious as rice …
the devilled day cares what I think …
this is a Manhattan-bound trainwreck.
The city is spread out in its usual
panorama, the epidermis of capital
in plain sight. You are closed and open in your
usual way and the hop of love is stamping
meanly (as usual). “I want string cheese.”
“I love string cheese.” “Do I get to be the monster?”
I’m not too soulful for … little destructions …
the curative friend is art precisely BECAUSE
we are monkeys. The art is complicated
precisely BECAUSE we have woken up, and
we have woken up
because we will go to sleep
and that was my point at the beginning.
I don’t care about cocks (so much) or bruises,
or that I’m all tangled. I’m not even sure
how much I care about you. (What did
you say your name was?) I care about
the TRANSOM—the air between us —
that little opening and the milky draft that got
through somehow. Everything salivates
to the tune of blankness and singularity
sometimes: I’m buried in here alone.
That’s incurable: a woman is of love,
the bargirl is a frog, some people are
just born happy and others feel every
scrape and filing in the demon’s lexicon.
Art as love. Pain. No more pain. Colored
lanterns: the experience of “wolving.”
The spine curves on a feather. I wish
I were as beautiful as your cruel speech.
I fill up the world with words again
and again (my job): they “monkey
the jungle” … and the gods are little candies
or little skylarks. O this jealous devotion
to waxwork sense, the lie of sonic
embodiment, the list of “universes”
in the flailing mooncalf. There’s something
cleaner than that, beyond your pat
“asymmetry” and cowboy rhetoric,
in the clumsy wash of being. Somewhere
a monk is rolling in iridescence and legroom.
Sex is like popcorn there and popcorn like
total overnight protection for the heavy flow
of ideation. It is indescribably boring that you
are not in love with me in the vermillion sea
of ebullient thinking. I like pain, really. Blue light
shines on the stupid trouble: the heaven faces
earthward as a lovely pessimism, and it doesn’t matter
I’m a petulant freak like an orchid. It doesn’t matter
because pain doesn’t matter, it’s a speckle on the death,
it’s artificial like a nylon egg. The most free live love
doesn’t scare anyone, it’s like seaweed waving in fire.
Je veux exister encore … this language … should have
made you love me, but anyway there’s a steady light
outside your rigid box and also outside my garrulous
satin fallacy. Your name will always be a shiver to me.
Now I need to sleep for a thousand years with a thousand
beautiful men—none of them you. The stars form a ring
around a beautiful device. I form a hunger for it,
even though it’s painful, and the device is studded
with real jewels made of male luck. The luck
is strafing over my open mouth. “Is it nice out? It’s
supposed to be nice out.” I wore myself out laughing,
fingering a fluorescent rose in the stubborn
scratchiti of thinking. I want a blind
dinosaur, and poems that wriggle up my ankles
from the sinister creek. Starlings in May
wander through the dark gravity,
poking fun at birth trauma
and clasping a wordy pathos
in the Land of the I-Think-We’re-Lost.
FUCKING MY HUSBAND
No, this bitch didn’t just tell me
it wasn’t her place to tell me
whether or not she’s fucking my
husband. What the hell is she doing,
Looking at his cock, I imagined it
fucking my husband hard.
Vanilla Deville Fucking My Husband
Fucking my husband isn’t enough?
She has to make house calls, too?
i caught my sister fucking my husband.
Inside you probably know how kinky
oriental women fucking my husband
left me as many other ourbeavers housewives
two years of us fucking my husband videos
of girls fucking with machines videos of angelface
My first marriage ended because I caught my
‘best friend’/’maid of honor’ fucking my husband.
In.The.Act. She’s fucking my husband and I bet
she doesn’t feel the tiniest bit of remorse,
so why does what I do with hers bother me
so much? She sat a few feet from me, just staring
at me, knowing she’s fucking my husband.”
This BITCH is saying she’s fucking my husband…
and in all honesty I want to kill her… I mean
seriously beat the hell out of her until she’s…
This one, this one here, she’s fucking my husband!
She’s a fokken hoer, sy naai getroude mans,
you must watch her!” Haar stem begin breek, hees
en kwaad en she fucking my husband manga orgy
lesbian group fucking party lingerie sexy man crystal
gayle sisters adult thing 1 and thing 2 costumes
fucking a horse face down fucking she fucking my husband
free full length fucking videos fucking animal fucking movie
clip merry fucking she is usually fucking my husband
or sucking on his cock. … You were the one who was
fucking my husband.. Yung tanong ko sagutin mo,
are you fucking my husband???!!! (silence) ZSA_ZSA:
Minsan! ehem! bato-bato sa langit ang tamaan, chorva!
i remember that confrontation scene between her and zsa zsa
in the kitchen, where she goes “are you fucking my husband?
.. Tranny fucking my husband
Boyfryeand Wife Fucking Her
Husband , Fuck My Wife ,
My Husband Licks Cum , My Boy
Fucking My Husband , Wife Cuckolds
Husband Cloted Cum , he moaned that
she did, I know my husband enjoyed
her pussy and I told Lil it was time
to go to a bedroom and pay me back f
or fucking my husband. All the time
I thought Chrissy was being a friend,
instead she was fucking my husband.
I’d thought she was trying to calm
his anger toward me, Request: Dad
fucking my wife or girlfriend or Mom
fucking my husband or Boyfriend;
I love fucking my husband’s ass,
especially when he’s wearing women’s
panties. Is Taryn still fucking my husband?
What the fuck is really going on here?”
“What the hell are you talking about?
Is this a damn joke? Fucking my husband
is like grinding two marshmallows together.
Yung tanong ko sagutin mo, are you fucking
my husband???!!! (silence)
We´re sorry the video “Fucking My Husband”
is unavailable. This has happened because:
This video has been removed
by the user who uploaded it.
1. Extremely angry.
2. Full of anger or energy;
violent or intense.
a (1) : exhibiting or goaded by
anger (2) : indicative of or
proceeding from anger b : giving
a stormy or turbulent appearance
FURIOUS RABIES. : rabies
characterized by spasm of the muscles
1. full of fury, violent passion,
2. or rage; extremely angry;
3. enraged: He was furious about …
Furious. A tempest on the tongue,
Furious Flower Poetry Center
more furious, superlative
most furious) … Rushing
with impetuosity; moving
with violence; as, a furious
stream; … adjective. full of fury
or wild rage; violently angry;
moving violently; violently
overpowering: a furious attack;
very great; intense: with furious
speed Furious Vaginas
Furious Typer’s combat strategy
is to drown her adversary
in a tsunami of angry verbiage.
She is absolutely immune
to subtlty OBAMA: You know,
I am furious at this entire situation,
because this is an example of where
somebody didn’t think through
the consequences …