I've got German, Dutch, French, Irish, English, Swedish, American, White trash, Morgan the Pirate, Stonewall Jackson, and a psychotic cousin. That is it before I start getting into fictional characters.
I'm allergic to dust, cats, and practically anything that grows and lives outside my house.
I've never spoken to anything so that they could hear it. Any time i've ever spoken to something, i was essentially talking to myself, and acting out a little imaginary play between me, me as the object, and me as the audience. I've had conversations with ethereal concepts such as fate, rage, the color blue and the collective history of the world from 1800 to 1912, but the weirdest actual object i've had a conversation with is a babbling brook.
31726 Windsor Garden City Michigan 48135, phone number 734-422-5282. I'm in the highest room in the house, and also the least hospitable. Soon, i'll be in unconsciousness land.
Maybe women would tolerate eating cum if I didn't look like 40 miles of bad road, but I kind of suspect that whether they enjoy eating cum or not is an odd personal preference that they may have but probably don't. And if they don't enjoy it, it wouldn't matter if they were sucking the cock of god himself.
Where is tent city?
I was not aware that I used the word weapons three times. If it was a short post I designed to be well written that does not please me. If it was a long post, three times seems fine. And if it was not designed to be well written, I don't mind the redundancy and lack of variety.
Which post was it? When I think of weapons I think of humans, genetically altered ones.