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two oat sodas for the road please

had the bright idea to hit the pub about 4 (more like 5) to beat the friday post work rush. next time should head over for 3 instead. jeez louise. love people’s faces when they arrive, all gruff bitter HOW DARE THESE PEOPLE GET HERE BEFORE US HARRUMPH!

what’s wrong bro?

ha nice face sage.

thanks erica, how sweet.

all up on the fridge.

awesome porno camping towel, folds up into nothing, so soft, taught and teeny.

this is what i look like in card form. sigh bangs.

gay for christmas over here. little bit.

or a lot a bit.

pipeweed represent. holla, gandalf.

coug tumbler. (despite that probably being a leopard of sorts).

bottle comes swathed in velvet leopard print. pure class. the lighting makes this glass appear to be plum (blackberry desert wine + cran).

guy i don’t recall bambi being this fucking retarded unnnnngh. did they edit out the mom’s death scene or something, makes no sense and what’s with all the weird southern accents for the younger animals, kinda too flirty a lilt to the tone of their voice for how young-sounding the speaker is.

11 thoughts on “two oat sodas for the road please

  1. One of my early childhood memories is seeing Bambi when I was around 4 years old. I wound up sobbing for nearly a half hour after mom kicked the bucket.

    If they cut the scene I bet it’s on acounna pressure from the NRA and/or deer hunters – maybe with some help from a “concerned parents group” , who were afraid their little darlings would become traumatized by such overwhelming sadness at such an early age.

    Well I turned out alright ( if you call being a 43 year old heroin addict living in a cardboard box “alright” ) but I suppose some parents might be afraid their wee ones would grow up to be- *gasp* -doctors or lawyers and such.

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