There was another caucus, apparently! The reason nobody noticed is because it was in Nevada, which is actually home to lots of Republican-voting Mormons. (Take out the corporate prostitution resort of Las Vegas in the southern corner of the state, and Nevada is just a sparsely populated length of mountains and desert right next to Utah.) But Romney is programmed to treat all wins the same, no matter how expected and no matter how few delegates are at stake, so the beaming Mittens will be transported out of Nevada by personal corporate jet with at least 10 delegates but certainly nothing like the 50 he picked up in Florida. The only pressing question is whether a cheap
I've got a pretty hefty scar on my leg and once while wearing shorts another patron in the potato restaurant (seriously...a potato restaurant) asked me how I got it. I told her that my uncle was a member of the Saigon embassy and I was visiting him on spring break. I got out first because I was hit by a piece of glass from a shattered window.
I feel bad about it now...but it was pretty funny at the time.
Sadly...despite my overactive conscience, I don't admit to the story unless forced. Somewhere there woman close to my age out there who is telling folks about this brave guy she met at 1 Potato 2 (I think that was the name).
Of course, she could also be telling folks about this lying douchebag she met one day so I guess it a wash.
You must have a constitution of iron then. I look at that shit and it just makes me cry. Worse than that, actually. If I read shit like that...or even worse, Yahoo comments, I spend the next week walking around looking at people and thinking, "did you write that? Did you??".
Thank you for going there so I don't have to.
Maybe...but there are lots of time when as I'll write something as a set up for someone to complete the joke. I like it the best when they do.
I've got a pretty hefty scar on my leg and once while wearing shorts another patron in the potato restaurant (seriously...a potato restaurant) asked me how I got it. I told her that my uncle was a member of the Saigon embassy and I was visiting him on spring break. I got out first because I was hit by a piece of glass from a shattered window.
I feel bad about it now...but it was pretty funny at the time.
Our breeding program for advanced wise-ass female quipsters is going to have to rely on cloning, then, if you're not going to propagate, huh?
You'll be faster and funnier without all that plumbing slowing you down, baby doll.
Sadly...despite my overactive conscience, I don't admit to the story unless forced. Somewhere there woman close to my age out there who is telling folks about this brave guy she met at 1 Potato 2 (I think that was the name).
Of course, she could also be telling folks about this lying douchebag she met one day so I guess it a wash.
You must have a constitution of iron then. I look at that shit and it just makes me cry. Worse than that, actually. If I read shit like that...or even worse, Yahoo comments, I spend the next week walking around looking at people and thinking, "did you write that? Did you??".
Thank you for going there so I don't have to.
Hell...i don't need no nekky pictures to look like a complete schlump.
You better damn come back to us, lady.
Abusing the proboscis again, Rush?
Maybe...but there are lots of time when as I'll write something as a set up for someone to complete the joke. I like it the best when they do.
They lean towards the dresser.
What if they're Christian Aliens? Talk about your X-Files.