sevillus

Lord forgive me, I have lusted, I say I have *lusted* after the tight bottoms of suicidegirls and yes, hopefuls.

Several hopefuls.

I have prayed on this with my wife, Mildred, and we've decided to move out of Houston and turn off our Internet and spend sometime watching re-runs with the grandkids of that old Joannie and Chachi show.

Lord, forgive me, I have sinned.

The only thing I can think of that would improve suicidegirls is if it offered home delivery of actual tattooed ass. And the ink wouldn't even have to be that great.

To the tourists in Hell's Kitchen: No, I am not in a band. No, I am not that guy.

To the men from the suburbs in Hell's Kitchen: No, I am not gay. No, you may not suck my cock.

you have to admire a girl who makes facial exercise a priority.

I'm linking to sash's set because it's as close as I can get to having her all to myself.

more chicks with tattoos.

Don't move to the country. They'll kill you on your porch with flag- and pie-chatter.

I'm sorry. When you said "let's cuddle" I assumed you meant my cock.

Wolf big. Wolf bad. I not fear.

The sidewalks of the city are littered with fugly crust. And some of it is wearing cargo shorts.

Today God wants you to know that if you just have a little faith you can pull that trigger and the bullet will bounce right off your skull.

Wait a minute. So was that rapture thing last Saturday or this Saturday? I lost my phone and it had all my apocalypse info.