Don't the ca automatons love my clowning. Until we give them the "Woody" Tx!
Barbed wire? It's a theme for some. As Lisa said long ago of the computer upon which I type, "I beat that game and got my own!" Would Hughes fix the HP? Only in St. Peters, MO, Bo Jackie. (I always wondered why my buddies said "Bo Jackie" 1969-72 or so. Is she the tall one on my 8mm film? Fuck you, mafia! Gimme that truck back, or the "good cops" might start tossing rocks at their own squad cars, you garlic-coated dumbass. Fire-roasted mafias, comin' right up! (It's a new turkey san at "Jersey Mikes").
600+ dips in the market worry only girly-men, right Arnold?
Full name please, or I'm "Calling the cops!" Mine is Billy Hughes.
Didn't finish my BUTA (Bugged Up The Ass) simulation of me in the Typhoon, or another scenario that might be real, yet in Guyana our crack-smoking team from the NTSB may or may not be on the scene of a real plane crash. Are you there, Beavis? I'm not. I'm busy being "Tortured in T.O.," but I also seem to have Grammy winners imitating the rather famous Lauren Bacall walk from Casablanca in front of Vons.
Works for me, as long as "Mr. Odom" goes from a class-A ass to, "We'll watch your cart" and a chuckle in just a few LA exoburbian minutes. 737-800 crash or photoshop? In the event of AP lies, ignore this blog, as you ignore my deteriorating Royal teeth in need of not like Marathon Man DDS attention. Or is that DDS/SS?
Let us climb aboard Flight 523. T-storms, for sure. BTW, when did that damn jet fly over last night, or I should say this morning? 2:41 a.m. "Two for one?" No, I do not work for H.W. Bush, but if the direct deposit was "on the books," instead of old stew, raw Bush's beans, or mangled leftover lasagna, I might try harder at whatever the f-- you morons are trying to pull. May I kill a park bunny Ted Nugent-style, and present it to the Area on Aging chef? That's six months in a California jail, instead of Arkansas-Missouri border dinner. Right Clinton?
Ready, meth-abusing "sky pilots?"
BUMP-BUMP-BUMP...Sheets of rain. "Hey mon, dat is de runway. I dink I vill touch un go. Oh mon, no power in de engines." Chicago Boeing mobsters at it again? I thought I put a stop to that in 2006. a). CRUNCH. Back to concrete, mon. Oh poo, we be goin' 120 knots or so; b). Through chain-link fence; c). Bam. Plane broke in two? (no mafia bread half. So sorry). Raytheon sex toy up anus instead? It's the Hughes Missile Division "switcheroo!" Could't you at least photoshop some escape chutes, like my last scene in Walking the Cat? (Why, I'm writing with a pencil donated by a woman who walks her cat. More "coincidence?") I guess so.
Yep, that's some "other" Hughes & Kennedy on the ballot in New Hampshire.
FINSTER HUGHES (P)
MAUDE KENNEDY (D)
We'll f___ up everything, and blame her, not me. I got no money.
Honest.
Barbed wire? It's a theme for some. As Lisa said long ago of the computer upon which I type, "I beat that game and got my own!" Would Hughes fix the HP? Only in St. Peters, MO, Bo Jackie. (I always wondered why my buddies said "Bo Jackie" 1969-72 or so. Is she the tall one on my 8mm film? Fuck you, mafia! Gimme that truck back, or the "good cops" might start tossing rocks at their own squad cars, you garlic-coated dumbass. Fire-roasted mafias, comin' right up! (It's a new turkey san at "Jersey Mikes").
600+ dips in the market worry only girly-men, right Arnold?
Full name please, or I'm "Calling the cops!" Mine is Billy Hughes.
Didn't finish my BUTA (Bugged Up The Ass) simulation of me in the Typhoon, or another scenario that might be real, yet in Guyana our crack-smoking team from the NTSB may or may not be on the scene of a real plane crash. Are you there, Beavis? I'm not. I'm busy being "Tortured in T.O.," but I also seem to have Grammy winners imitating the rather famous Lauren Bacall walk from Casablanca in front of Vons.
Works for me, as long as "Mr. Odom" goes from a class-A ass to, "We'll watch your cart" and a chuckle in just a few LA exoburbian minutes. 737-800 crash or photoshop? In the event of AP lies, ignore this blog, as you ignore my deteriorating Royal teeth in need of not like Marathon Man DDS attention. Or is that DDS/SS?
Let us climb aboard Flight 523. T-storms, for sure. BTW, when did that damn jet fly over last night, or I should say this morning? 2:41 a.m. "Two for one?" No, I do not work for H.W. Bush, but if the direct deposit was "on the books," instead of old stew, raw Bush's beans, or mangled leftover lasagna, I might try harder at whatever the f-- you morons are trying to pull. May I kill a park bunny Ted Nugent-style, and present it to the Area on Aging chef? That's six months in a California jail, instead of Arkansas-Missouri border dinner. Right Clinton?
Ready, meth-abusing "sky pilots?"
BUMP-BUMP-BUMP...Sheets of rain. "Hey mon, dat is de runway. I dink I vill touch un go. Oh mon, no power in de engines." Chicago Boeing mobsters at it again? I thought I put a stop to that in 2006. a). CRUNCH. Back to concrete, mon. Oh poo, we be goin' 120 knots or so; b). Through chain-link fence; c). Bam. Plane broke in two? (no mafia bread half. So sorry). Raytheon sex toy up anus instead? It's the Hughes Missile Division "switcheroo!" Could't you at least photoshop some escape chutes, like my last scene in Walking the Cat? (Why, I'm writing with a pencil donated by a woman who walks her cat. More "coincidence?") I guess so.
Yep, that's some "other" Hughes & Kennedy on the ballot in New Hampshire.
FINSTER HUGHES (P)
MAUDE KENNEDY (D)
We'll f___ up everything, and blame her, not me. I got no money.
Honest.
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