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| | | Oh Vodka...is there anything you can't do ? | | | |
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| | | Congrats LBP, my 30th is on this friday.... but I think we already went over that last year | | | |
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| | | Haha, oops. I meant 'photoshop' this bitch. You know the drill. | | | |
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| | | i've got a caption:
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. YOU ARE OLDE! | | | |
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| | | mental note, RESIZE nextime | | | |
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| | | haha, call it all off. fl_projekt is winnar! | | | |
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| | | God damn! Happy birthday! | | | |
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| | | Happy birfday smallinfanturinemaw! Hope it's a stunningly brutal introduction into Ye Olde Age! :-) | | | |
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| | | Happy b-day LBPM. 1 year closer to the final curtain.. | | | |
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| | | No party for you.
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| | | I registered to ask. Is that one of what was Mrs. Kimball's (sp?) cabins in Jefferson on Boy Mt in NH? | | | |
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| | | No, it's one of the slave cabins on the Calvin Coolidge Farm/Sideshow/Tourist thing/Family Plantation deal in Vermont. | | | |
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| | | You registered to ask? Are you following vas and the lbp? STONE HIM. | | | |
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| | | Lumpy, I hate you a lot now. | | | |
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| | | SIR
MY HEART IS YOURS
ON A STICK
END TRANSMISSION | | | |
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| | | hahaha LE SCREAMMMM!!!
I heart them all!
Now I know what I look like at a luscious 300 lbs and I will never go to THAT cabin again.
My head looks like a giant blonde turnip, gack. | | | |
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Sorry for the null post before, hope this makes up for it. | | | |
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| | | Yeah. I think we can pretty much shut down the internet after that one. | | | |
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| | | It amuses me, the number of you idiots that are challenged by posting an image on the web. | | | |
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| | | LPP knows how to handle a nude man on lesh.
Happy 30th. | | | |
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| | | Haha Zapple! Best place for him. | | | |
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| | | Man, every time there's a birfday, this game just gets better and better. Happy birfday to teh El Beep! The joy I'm getting from these photoshops makes me feel like it's my birfday too! w00t! :D | | | |
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| | | Bless you LBP. Aries rule the Werld!
Mine's on Thursday.....I'll be drinkin' for ya.
I remember on my 30th BD I gathered a handful of my closest friends and went out to the sand spit (an isolated, non-pointy location away from authority figures) and we all ate a huge amount of mushrooms. As each of us came on, we shared the vision that came. For Danny, the waves were talking to him. (What are they saying, Danny? WHOOOSH!) Ron saw the city in the sand. Mike was a guitar string. I saw a deer (with antlers) turn, look at me, then spread its wings and fly over my head. (so did two others there, so it was 'real'). In the morning we went back to our various corners of the earth and resumed our lives, richer in the knowledge that under the surface, there is always a deeper mystery.
Find your mystery and live it.
Happy Birthday! | | | |
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