GivePLZ TBCheesePull Kappa TBCheesePull TakeNRG Dont mind me just turning it to gold
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Are you Reynad's dad?
twitchquotes:I went to a MTG tournament in Denver to meet Brian Kibler and ask him in person "Are you Reynad's dad?" I needed the truth. I approached Kibler and asked him for a semen sample. Kibler gave a coy smile, "There's only one way you're getting semen out of me." I got on my knees and took the sample. I still don't know if Kibler is Reydad but we've been dating for 5 days now.
I went to a MTG tournament in Denver to meet Brian Kibler and ask him in person "Are you Reynad's dad?" I needed the truth. I approached Kibler and asked him for a semen sample. Kibler gave a coy smile, "There's only one way you're getting semen out of me." I got on my knees and took the sample. I still don't know if Kibler is Reydad but we've been dating for 5 days now.
Graham Stephen is stingy
Graham Stephen the kind of guy that suck his own pp and cum in his own mouth to save tissue
Graham Stephen the kind of guy that suck his own pp and cum in his own mouth to save tissue
I own a musket for base defense (Palworld)
I own a musket for base defense, since that's what the developers intended. Four Syndicate dunderheads breach my front gate. "What the Ignis?" As I grab my cold resistant metal armor and musket. Blow a pal sphere sized hole through the first thug, he's dead on the spot. Draw my make-shift pistol on the second thug, miss him entirely because it's crafted from spare parts and nails the neighbor's Rayhound. I have to resort to my Lamball and the mounted rocket fortification at the top of the stairs. "Tally ho lads" the shrapnel shreds two thugs in the blast, the sound and extra shrapnel set off the neighbors alarm bells. Ready my metal spear and charge at the last terrified rapscallion. He bleeds out waiting on the PIDF to arrive since thirty-seven stab wounds are impossible to stitch up. Just as the developers intended.
I own a musket for base defense, since that's what the developers intended. Four Syndicate dunderheads breach my front gate. "What the Ignis?" As I grab my cold resistant metal armor and musket. Blow a pal sphere sized hole through the first thug, he's dead on the spot. Draw my make-shift pistol on the second thug, miss him entirely because it's crafted from spare parts and nails the neighbor's Rayhound. I have to resort to my Lamball and the mounted rocket fortification at the top of the stairs. "Tally ho lads" the shrapnel shreds two thugs in the blast, the sound and extra shrapnel set off the neighbors alarm bells. Ready my metal spear and charge at the last terrified rapscallion. He bleeds out waiting on the PIDF to arrive since thirty-seven stab wounds are impossible to stitch up. Just as the developers intended.
Hey qtpie, you should check your video settings
twitchquotes:Hey qtpie, you should check your video settings after this game, there seems to be an issue with the stream. The colors of the video fade and entire screen goes gray every 30 or so seconds
Hey qtpie, you should check your video settings after this game, there seems to be an issue with the stream. The colors of the video fade and entire screen goes gray every 30 or so seconds
Natalie Portman is the reason I work out
Natalie Portman is the reason I work out. I have this fantasy where we start talking at the Vanity Fair Oscars party bar. We exchange a few pleasantries. She asks what I do. I say I loved her in New Girl. She laughs. I get my drink.
"Well, see ya," I say and walk away. I've got her attention now. How many guys voluntarily leave a conversation with Natalie Portman? She touches her neck as she watches me leave.
Later, as the night's dragged on and the coterie of gorgeous narcissists grows increasingly loose, she finds me on the balcony, my bowtie undone, smoking a cigarette.
"Got a spare?" she asks.
"What's in it for me?" I say as I hand her one of my little white ladies. She smiles.
"Conversation with me, duh."
I laugh.
"What's so funny?" she protests.
"Nothing, nothing... It's just... don't you grow tired of the egos?"
"You get used to it," she says, lighting her cigarette and handing me back the lighter.
"What would you do if you weren't an actress?" I ask.
"Teaching, I think."
"And if I was your student, what would I be learning?"
"Discipline," she says quickly, looking up into my eyes, before changing the subject. "Where are you from?"
"Bermuda," I say.
"Oh wow. That's lovely."
"It's ok," I admit. "Not everything is to my liking."
"What could possibly be not to your liking in Bermuda?" she inquires.
"I don't like sand," I tell her. "It's coarse and rough and irritating and it gets everywhere."
Natalie Portman is the reason I work out. I have this fantasy where we start talking at the Vanity Fair Oscars party bar. We exchange a few pleasantries. She asks what I do. I say I loved her in New Girl. She laughs. I get my drink.
"Well, see ya," I say and walk away. I've got her attention now. How many guys voluntarily leave a conversation with Natalie Portman? She touches her neck as she watches me leave.
Later, as the night's dragged on and the coterie of gorgeous narcissists grows increasingly loose, she finds me on the balcony, my bowtie undone, smoking a cigarette.
"Got a spare?" she asks.
"What's in it for me?" I say as I hand her one of my little white ladies. She smiles.
"Conversation with me, duh."
I laugh.
"What's so funny?" she protests.
"Nothing, nothing... It's just... don't you grow tired of the egos?"
"You get used to it," she says, lighting her cigarette and handing me back the lighter.
"What would you do if you weren't an actress?" I ask.
"Teaching, I think."
"And if I was your student, what would I be learning?"
"Discipline," she says quickly, looking up into my eyes, before changing the subject. "Where are you from?"
"Bermuda," I say.
"Oh wow. That's lovely."
"It's ok," I admit. "Not everything is to my liking."
"What could possibly be not to your liking in Bermuda?" she inquires.
"I don't like sand," I tell her. "It's coarse and rough and irritating and it gets everywhere."
Dont mind me just turning it to gold