Is this your way of saying you are going to make a cameo on cops sometime in the near future? Hard to believe grown ass adults still get in fist fights.
I already wasn't planning on visiting France... http://news.yahoo.com/no-laughing-matter-clown-terror-spreads-france-005440754.html
Yep. Plus if the sister's husband is fighting his ex's husband, isn't he just broadcasting that he isn't over his ex?
http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/art...t-hundreds-times-including-trysts-school.html Where the fuck were teachers like these when i was in high school.
I have to admit, right around the time I started getting laid was when I gave up on the teen angst bullshit and quit being such an angry little shithead.
Maybe that's what all these hot teachers are doing by fucking the students. Preventing more school shootings by having sex with the kids. They probably aren't fucking the ones who need it most though. And here we are putting these philanthropists in JAIL! That's the real crime.
Exactly. They shouldn't be fucking the hot shot athletic kids, they should be focusing on the mentally unstable kids with 'kick me" signs stuck to their backs.
The naval base across the river from me is putting on an air show. I stepped out after the first half of the games on tv to watch that instead and it was the best decision I've made in awhile.
For those of you who hunt or eat Paleozoic Diet; http://www.mensfitness.com/nutrition/what-to-eat/what-real-paleo-diet-looks Cool quotes from the article; Spoiler I suppose the difference between the radical elements of the Paleo movement and the radical elements of the hunting lifestyle might be described as the difference between playing Grand Theft Auto and actually stealing a car. It’s the difference between lifting rocks for the sake of lifting rocks, and lifting rocks to build a wood-fired oven so you can roast a rack of elk ribs. It’s the difference between running down the sidewalk barefoot just to see if you can hack it, and crossing an icy river barefoot because you’d be a moron to get your socks and boots wet. It’s the difference between cultivating a beard you hope will look rugged, and growing a beard because there’s no way out here to shave it. I became a hunter the way most guys do—through my father. He was an avid bow hunter and fisherman who raised my brothers and me in western Michigan. As a kid, I was lucky enough to eat a greater variety of wild game than most folks will eat in their whole lifetime. The experiences of hunting and then eating those meals taught me to see nature as a living, breathing, and self-replenishing grocery store that accepts no other currencies than raw effort and acquired skill. I recognized from an early age that success as a hunter comes down to your ability to hack it in the woods. In my father’s eyes, the greatest sin a man could commit was being a “candy ass,” his preferred term for anyone who lacked the motivation to suffer in pursuit of his goals. My old man expected his kids to trudge through the frigid water of a chest-deep swamp in the predawn darkness, or drag a deer carcass through a half-mile of impenetrable brush, or tie an intricate knot in hair-thin fishing line when your fingers are so cold they’re the color of snow. My commitment to the hunter-gatherer lifestyle was uncompromised when I went away to college; in fact, it deepened considerably. During those years of poverty, wild game went from being a novelty item to an essential staple of my diet. I experimented with cooking everything from the back thighs of a beaver to the tongue of a deer and came to see a direct link between my ability to perform in the wild and the quality and abundance of the food I ate. Spoiler Actually, though, it’s a bit more complicated than that. A lot of guys who might be capable of performing those tasks in a controlled environment are unable to handle the auxiliary abuses that get doled out on a hunt. I learned this the hard way, over and over again. ONE EXPERIENCE IN PARTICULAR THAT STANDS out is when my older brother and I went up into the Madison Range of Montana to hunt for mountain goats. After an extremely long day in which many things went wrong, we found ourselves hunkered beneath a rock ledge at 10,000 feet above sea level, nine miles away from our truck. A frigid storm system was blowing through and a dead mountain goat was lying at our feet. The animal had to be skinned and butchered before we could start dropping down to the safety of the timberline, or either a bear would claim the meat or the goat would freeze solid and become impossible to work with. My feet were horribly blistered, my fingers were numb, I was hungry to the point of nausea, and I was flat-out exhausted. All I really wanted to do was puke then fall asleep, a move that would probably have brought a quick end to my short life. Instead, my brother and I managed to motivate each other enough to do what seemed like an impossible task: butcher the goat and get it into backpacks, then trudge those heavy loads down to where we could hang the meat safely in a tree before finding a place flat enough to pitch a tent. I crawled into my sleeping bag that night feeling defeated and scared. But in the morning I had a fresh perspective on things, one that actually surprised me. I looked back at that snow-covered mountain and knew that I wanted to become the kind of guy who could pull that off again and again without fail. I wanted to live in a way that would make me comfortable being near the knife’s edge. Getting to that state of fitness requires a kind of exertion you simply can’t achieve with a typical daily exercise regime, no matter how raw and savage you make it. It demands a mindset that can be attained only with regular exposure to the peculiar forms of fear and uncertainty that are dished out by the natural world. Highly suggest you read the whole thing.
Fucking baseball. We must be at about 389 post season games by now and I know it is exciting and I am a supportive wife and yada yada but boy if I have to watch much more of this I'm going to die of boredom. Baseball makes golf look action packed.
Is somebody making you watch it? If not, then don't watch. There are lots of other channels, including ones with other sports. If they are making you watch, then your beef is with them, not baseball.
Damn I just pulled to the end of my grandpa's driveway and shot my last deer from my car. The other one I got last year was from the doorway of my friend's basement. Still just as delicious. I saw some protesters this weekend in a ritzy part of town protesting the controlled hunts they have in the city parks. I guess using a bow and arrow was barbaric to them.
Note where I said I am being a supportive wife. Nobody is "making" me watch it. I know that my husband, like most of KC, is super excited that the Royals made it to the World Series for the first time since 1985 so I've tried to share in that. I just didn't know that it involved so many frigging games (5 this week). There is one Super Bowl, I can muster interest for 4 hours plus people throw awesome Super Bowl parties because it is a single event. My beef is with baseball.