
However, good looking Brian is not included.

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The best part of the “Old Yeller” movie tape is when the boy shoots the dog and then wipes the dog’s prints on the gun so the detectives think it was a suicide. But then one of the detectives notices that all of Old Yeller’s jewelry is missing and so he goes up to the boy and is like, “Why would your dog rob himself?” Then the boy panics and tries to kick the detective, but the detective punches him off of a ledge and he breaks through a table.
you’re not well. whoever you are tomoatmeal…
This is an AWESOME recipe. I followed it exactly except I added balsamic vinegar, salt, pepper, oregano and 2 very large cloves of garlic run through a garlic press. Also, I did not put in the Coca-Cola or the onions. I didn’t have any pork shoulder around so I used chicken instead and used a frying pan instead of the slow cooker. I then added BBQ sauce to cover the chicken completely and sort of boiled it until done instead of roasting. Served it with rice and some scrambled egg instead of on the sandwich buns and didn’t add any tomatoes. Amazing recipe! I give it 5 stars.

Unidentified. Or “Tony” to you and me. I’m just glad the WSJ doesn’t run the Witness Protection Agency.
“However,” Piecyk adds, “with only 41 apps available we wonder how apps with limited appeal like Shabat Shalom, which allow users to check candle lighting times, are showing up before proven iPhone successes like a basic fart sound application or Facebook.”
Let me get this straight. The problem with Palm is the lack of a good fart application?
Dear Ms Clarkson,
Don’t take this the wrong way, but my life would not suck without you.
Yours in FM Radio Hell,
Toddlr
ps: Just because you can sing notes high enough to make a dog cry and chew off its own ears doesn’t mean you should.
Why doesn’t everyone just shut the hell up and wait a few more days to see what Apple actually launches on the 8th?
-Sent from my iPhone…. Ok. Not really. Sent from my piece of shit Treo with an edited signature line.

Knowing that a peaceful life together was impossible, we decided that suicide would be the only way to express our love for one another. Like Romeo and Juliet, poison would be our weapon of choice. However, when the big moment arrived, I realized that like a total jerk, I’d forgotten to buy any poison.
“How about we eat this raw chicken?” I asked.
“I don’t think that’s the same kind of poison.”
“Poison is poison,” I shot back, taking a huge bite of the raw chicken.
I could tell from the look on her face that she wasn’t having it.
“I think I’ll just stab myself when the time comes,” she said.
“Suit yourself.”
A few hours later, I was lying nude in the fetal position, coated head to toe in a mixture of my own vomit and feces.
“You have to admit. It’s still kind of romantic. You know, with the candles and whatnot,” I said.
Without taking her eyes off the magazine she was reading, she replied, “I think we should see other people.”