I got in a lot of trouble as a youngster and let's just say tulsa can thank me for a good number of trees. Literally whenever my mom picks me up from the airport during the drive she will point to at least 5 highway medians and be like "look honey, there's your trees". And they wonder why I never visit...
The feminization of this country is becoming outright disgusting. Yet another slut whores herself out in public, realizes the next day that it's all over the internet and cries rape. ORAL RAPE rofl. I'm sure some of you have heard about this story by now, but that picture hasn't been posted with any article I've seen. It's all over the internet, even the UK news sites.
There's no consequences for sluts falsely accusing men, and that's pretty fucked up. That's one genuinely happy looking rape victim.
One time a tow truck driver had to cut down five highway beautification trees to extricate my totaled Porsche, so it's a good thing we've got poor saps like Dave out planting more. Sometimes I drive by that shoddily rejuvenated patch of scorched earth and am all "That's my exorbitant fine dollars at work."
One time a tow truck driver had to cut down five highway beautification trees to extricate my totaled Porsche, so it's a good thing we've got poor saps like Dave out planting more. Sometimes I drive by that shoddily rejuvenated patch of scorched earth and am all "That's my exorbitant fine dollars at work."
Just doing my part Bob. Just doing my part.
How'd you wreck the Porsche? Aside from hitting some trees.
I was drunk as fuck and fighting with my girlfriend and was going to drop her off at her place and never talk to her again and then she was all like, "I thought this was a fucking Porsche, is this all the faster it will go?" And I'm all, "Bitch I'll show you how fast it will go" and next thing you know I'm sailing past her exit going 115 and she starts yelling that I'm passing it up and I tried to throw it sideways and powerslide into the fucker, only the left rear trailing arm let go and I ended up leaving 300 feet of skidmarks, a 150 foot debris trail, sliding sideways down a little gully and up the other side into some trees and coming to rest about 10 feet before I would have hit the side of the overpass. You would think that would have been a wakeup call, but I continued to drink for another six or seven years after that.
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