The arthritis in my hands was so bad yesterday that I didn't feel like drinking. I had to get into my high-test painkillers instead.
The Bonus Plan: I didn't have any fun, but still got the hangover from the narcotics.
The most terrifying force of death comes from the hands of Men who wanted to be left Alone. TRUE TERROR will arrive at these peoples door, and they will cry, scream, and beg for mercy but it will fall upon the deaf ears of the Men who just wanted to be left alone.
You should get a lot of bones and make bone broth in a pressure cooker.
I'm not mad enough at anybody to kill them right now, except that kook behind me that thinks he's Satan, but he has FBI eyes on him because of his gun and drug running. So, probably not the best time.
I don't have a pressure cooker, would a crock-pot suffice?
The most terrifying force of death comes from the hands of Men who wanted to be left Alone. TRUE TERROR will arrive at these peoples door, and they will cry, scream, and beg for mercy but it will fall upon the deaf ears of the Men who just wanted to be left alone.
The most terrifying force of death comes from the hands of Men who wanted to be left Alone. TRUE TERROR will arrive at these peoples door, and they will cry, scream, and beg for mercy but it will fall upon the deaf ears of the Men who just wanted to be left alone.
The most terrifying force of death comes from the hands of Men who wanted to be left Alone. TRUE TERROR will arrive at these peoples door, and they will cry, scream, and beg for mercy but it will fall upon the deaf ears of the Men who just wanted to be left alone.
The most terrifying force of death comes from the hands of Men who wanted to be left Alone. TRUE TERROR will arrive at these peoples door, and they will cry, scream, and beg for mercy but it will fall upon the deaf ears of the Men who just wanted to be left alone.
To this day I've yet to be called a curmudgeon as I was hoping would let aging become a little less painful. "Prick" was wearing on me, but there seems no in-between.
I am not one of those weak-spirited, sappy Americans who want to be liked by all the people around them. I dont care if people hate my guts; I assume most of them do. The important question is whether they are in a position to do anything about it. My affections, being concentrated over a few people, are not spread all over Hell in a vile attempt to placate sulky, worthless shits. - William S Burroughs