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Showing content with the highest reputation on 08/14/2010 in all sections

  1. 4 points
  2. 3 points
    http://vod.penisbot.com/video/22826/Porno-Dan's-Nasty-Adventures-Mama's-Milk/ Porno Dan's Nasty Adventures Mama's Milk! Brandy is a wild sexy girl with tits that are loaded with hot milk! She loves to squirt her hot milk all over herself while masturbating. That's just for starters! Watch Brandy as she uses many toys, including a long string of anal beads stuck all the way up her ass! She treats Dan and his two friends to plenty of fresh milk while she fucks and sucks them off! Five great scenes you don't want to miss! Pause. Sellin houses and doing fetish porn.
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    plus my dog..chiilling..
  6. 2 points
    for the year 2010 in this country. the fact that we can hop on a bus and still have it lookin like this is really somethin to not take for granted. big ups to the kids holdin it down on the lines.
  7. 1 point
    so i was looking around and couldnt find a Venice Beach graffiti wall thread, I'm sure you nerds can correct me if i'm wrong. this spot is a graffiti historical landmark that gets painted weekly. I thought it might be fun to start a thread to post all venice beach wall flicks, past, present, good, bad, ugly, personal or found.. if this is something that is not deserving of its own thread then shut er down... here we go! so lets see yours, thousands of writers known and unknown have painted this over the years. older flicks from before the sand fill-in would be awesome too..:scrambled:
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    haha naw i got those too....just aint sharin with you scumbags LULZ speaking of crazy pug lady...i met a pug named olive the other day and I was telling dude about how i know this chick who rocks teh pug tat
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    is that pug tattoo on your inner thigh? yikes crazy pug lady. one of these years i wanna hit up that tomato thing in reno. dude you went on a honeymoon documented day in pies and no sexy time photos. /nh haha skull pipes look cool. im into that day of the dead stuff. /nh
  16. 1 point
    flicks i took whilst mobbin'
  17. 1 point
    Big Boi ft Yelawolf- your dj aint no dj http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=liYURxbFovo
  18. 1 point
    many many moons ago, there was a cheating bastard named Diego Maradonna who scorred against England in a world cup match by using his hand to knock the ball over Peter Shilton to score and put us out.... it became known as "the hand of god" for some reason. possibly cos, maradonna presumed he was god like.
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    them cold trains are so beautiful
  21. 1 point
    P.S. I just scrolled past the pic again, make that two leeches. -Realism
  22. 1 point
    yeah, i need to get back down there sooner than later, it was a really fun trip. trying to get down in february.
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  26. 1 point
    bnh ... your life makes me super depressed about my life.
  27. 1 point
    According to Tila, she took the stage at the Gathering of the Juggalos in Illinois -- a concert featuring such acts as Insane Clown Posse and Kottonmouth Kings. Tila gave TMZ a very detailed account of what happened, saying: "I went onstage and immediately, before I even got on stage, DUDES were throwing HUGE STONE ROCKS in my face, beer bottles that slit my eye open, almost burnt my hair on fire cuz they threw fire crackers on stage, and they even took the sh*t out of the port-0-potty and threw sh*t and piss at me when I was onstage. These people were trying to kill me. So then after the last blow to my head with the firecracker they threw at me exploded, my bodygaurd and the other security grabbed me and ran as fast as they could to the shitty trailor. Since their security SUCKS, the 2 thousand people ran after us, trying to kill me. They almost got me so they finally reach the trailor, blood all over myself, cant stop bleeding, then all of a sudden, all 2 thousand people surround the trailor and busts the windows!!! Even the guys INSIDE with me were shaking! Their hands were shaking cuz they were so scared! So 3 guys inside the trailor had to grab a table and push it over the broken windows and grabbed all the chairs they could find so hold the people from outside back. It was scary as hell!"
  28. 1 point
    my dog of 10 years died last night in his sleep. worst fucking thing ever its like losing your closest homie. R.I.P Hank.
  29. 1 point
    my bad. coke, fight, and fuck. live the dream mang.
  30. 1 point
    Nice one Ralph. I was in Puerto Vallarta a few years back hunting empty waves and a few other pleasures that are hard to come by in Oz. Was unaware that Vallarta is the gay capital of Mexi. This dude rolls up on me at the beach 'Oye chico, quieres una salchicha electrica?' and opens his suitcase full of dildoes. I just laughed at the cat. Vallarta's a freaking sick place, can't wait to go back one day
  31. 1 point
    this was a rooftop but the building the writer stood on got demoed there are a couple of those here
  32. 1 point
    "we can do one more before the sun comes up"
  33. 1 point
    These are the only "bangas" I know about...
  34. 1 point
    haha no krie sucks to thanks sm for the flicks
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    The Iron by Henry Rollins I believe that the definition of definition is reinvention. To not be like your parents. To not be like your friends. To be yourself. Completely. When I was young I had no sense of myself. All I was, was a product of all the fear and humiliation I suffered. Fear of my parents. The humiliation of teachers calling me "garbage can" and telling me I'd be mowing lawns for a living. And the very real terror of my fellow students. I was threatened and beaten up for the color of my skin and my size. I was skinny and clumsy, and when others would tease me I didn't run home crying, wondering why. I knew all too well. I was there to be antagonized. In sports I was laughed at. A spaz. I was pretty good at boxing but only because the rage that filled my every waking moment made me wild and unpredictable. I fought with some strange fury. The other boys thought I was crazy. I hated myself all the time. As stupid at it seems now, I wanted to talk like them, dress like them, carry myself with the ease of knowing that I wasn't going to get pounded in the hallway between classes. Years passed and I learned to keep it all inside. I only talked to a few boys in my grade. Other losers. Some of them are to this day the greatest people I have ever known. Hang out with a guy who has had his head flushed down a toilet a few times, treat him with respect, and you'll find a faithful friend forever. But even with friends, school sucked. Teachers gave me hard time. I didn't think much of them either. Then came Mr. Pepperman, my advisor. He was a powerfully built Vietnam veteran, and he was scary. No one ever talked out of turn in his class. Once one kid did and Mr. P. lifted him off the ground and pinned him to the blackboard. Mr. P. could see that I was in bad shape, and one Friday in October he asked me if I had ever worked out with weights. I told him no. He told me that I was going to take some of the money that I had saved and buy a hundred-pound set of weights at Sears. As I left his office, I started to think of things I would say to him on Monday when he asked about the weights that I was not going to buy. Still, it made me feel special. My father never really got that close to caring. On Saturday I bought the weights, but I couldn't even drag them to my mom's car. An attendant laughed at me as he put them on a dolly. Monday came and I was called into Mr. P.'s office after school. He said that he was going to show me how to work out. He was going to put me on a program and start hitting me in the solar plexus in the hallway when I wasn't looking. When I could take the punch we would know that we were getting somewhere. At no time was I to look at myself in the mirror or tell anyone at school what I was doing. In the gym he showed me ten basic exercises. I paid more attention than I ever did in any of my classes. I didn't want to blow it. I went home that night and started right in. Weeks passed, and every once in a while Mr. P. would give me a shot and drop me in the hallway, sending my books flying. The other students didn't know what to think. More weeks passed, and I was steadily adding new weights to the bar. I could sense the power inside my body growing. I could feel it. Right before Christmas break I was walking to class, and from out of nowhere Mr. Pepperman appeared and gave me a shot in the chest. I laughed and kept going. He said I could look at myself now. I got home and ran to the bathroom and pulled off my shirt. I saw a body, not just the shell that housed my stomach and my heart. My biceps bulged. My chest had definition. I felt strong. It was the first time I can remember having a sense of myself. I had done something and no one could ever take it away. You couldn't say s--t to me. It took me years to fully appreciate the value of the lessons I have learned from the Iron. I used to think that it was my adversary, that I was trying to lift that which does not want to be lifted. I was wrong. When the Iron doesn't want to come off the mat, it's the kindest thing it can do for you. If it flew up and went through the ceiling, it wouldn't teach you anything. That's the way the Iron talks to you. It tells you that the material you work with is that which you will come to resemble. That which you work against will always work against you. It wasn't until my late twenties that I learned that by working out I had given myself a great gift. I learned that nothing good comes without work and a certain amount of pain. When I finish a set that leaves me shaking, I know more about myself. When something gets bad, I know it can't be as bad as that workout. I used to fight the pain, but recently this became clear to me: pain is not my enemy; it is my call to greatness. But when dealing with the Iron, one must be careful to interpret the pain correctly. Most injuries involving the Iron come from ego. I once spent a few weeks lifting weight that my body wasn't ready for and spent a few months not picking up anything heavier than a fork. Try to lift what you're not prepared to and the Iron will teach you a little lesson in restraint and self-control. I have never met a truly strong person who didn't have self-respect. I think a lot of inwardly and outwardly directed contempt passes itself off as self-respect: the idea of raising yourself by stepping on someone's shoulders instead of doing it yourself. When I see guys working out for cosmetic reasons, I see vanity exposing them in the worst way, as cartoon characters, billboards for imbalance and insecurity. Strength reveals itself through character. It is the difference between bouncers who get off strong-arming people and Mr.Pepperman. Muscle mass does not always equal strength. Strength is kindness and sensitivity. Strength is understanding that your power is both physical and emotional. That it comes from the body and the mind. And the heart. Yukio Mishima said that he could not entertain the idea of romance if he was not strong. Romance is such a strong and overwhelming passion, a weakened body cannot sustain it for long. I have some of my most romantic thoughts when I am with the Iron. Once I was in love with a woman. I thought about her the most when the pain from a workout was racing through my body. Everything in me wanted her. So much so that sex was only a fraction of my total desire. It was the single most intense love I have ever felt, but she lived far away and I didn't see her very often. Working out was a healthy way of dealing with the loneliness. To this day, when I work out I usually listen to ballads. I prefer to work out alone. It enables me to concentrate on the lessons that the Iron has for me. Learning about what you're made of is always time well spent, and I have found no better teacher. The Iron had taught me how to live. Life is capable of driving you out of your mind. The way it all comes down these days, it's some kind of miracle if you're not insane. People have become separated from their bodies. They are no longer whole. I see them move from their offices to their cars and on to their suburban homes. They stress out constantly, they lose sleep, they eat badly. And they behave badly. Their egos run wild; they become motivated by that which will eventually give them a massive stroke. They need the Iron Mind. Through the years, I have combined meditation, action, and the Iron into a single strength. I believe that when the body is strong, the mind thinks strong thoughts. Time spent away from the Iron makes my mind degenerate. I wallow in a thick depression. My body shuts down my mind. The Iron is the best antidepressant I have ever found. There is no better way to fight weakness than with strength. Once the mind and body have been awakened to their true potential, it's impossible to turn back. The Iron never lies to you. You can walk outside and listen to all kinds of talk, get told that you're a god or a total bastard. The Iron will always kick you the real deal. The Iron is the great reference point, the all-knowing perspective giver. Always there like a beacon in the pitch black. I have found the Iron to be my greatest friend. It never freaks out on me, never runs. Friends may come and go. But two hundred pounds is always two hundred pounds.
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  39. 1 point
    i know it sucks but i am hungover so leave me alone :o
  40. 1 point
    The Night Evelyn Came out of the Grave ?
  41. 1 point
    that's not a drain; that's the bathroom!
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    trash this no lip havin' bruce jenner lookin' ass
  44. 1 point
    [/img] [/img] [/img] [/img] [/img] [/img]
  45. 1 point
    last night an unattractive black tranny walked by the shop, and boss man made a comment about her having a nice ass. today he let me know that hes down to fuck the black tranny in his/her ass. DAMN. three weeks around me, and now dude is on a whole new level. MY MAN. when i originally told him my tranny story, he said "why the fuck did i hire you? you wear red shirts, you rock tight pants, and you let a dude jerk you off?!?" now this dude is bout-it-bout-it //positive influence oner
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  47. 1 point
    i parked my delivery truck and knocked out for a few hours in the airport.
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    ok, fried chicken from scratch... i started my soaking then chicken in buttermilk for about 8 hours... then i took "cream of chicken" soup, and beat an egg into it and used that as my dip. the batter was a mix of flour, corn starch, garlic powder, paprika, and other spices... i dipped and battered once and let sit, then battered again... let then chicken sit for a little bit some the batter sticks well... fry in oil, finish in oven... here's some home made cornbread... buttery and soft but not crumbly... had some garlic butter and oil that i sauteed the broccoli in... finished product...
  50. 1 point
    sm: pretty sure that's a gooch. -some guy
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