Yarbr

That rig is definitely equipped with a wireless kill switch.

The second view shows a picture of the high center warning sign. That driver methed up.

After that. Did he stop or fly away?

I really need to see what happens after he lands.

Punching someone on the head with your pinky and ring knuckle will fuck your shit up.

All the AI’s have shitty face pubes. I missed #4.

I feel like the cat thing is too easy. What does the guy do, a cat door or is it going to murder and shit all over the cabin? I’ve never had a cat, I don’t know how they work.

I had a friend whose dad flew the Goodyear out of the Spring location. He’d fly over our neighborhood often. He also raised ostriches.

Sounds like his final words were “punch me motherfummpphh…” most excellent

My son and I get to go to the bustling town of Gatesville to get his DL. I checked, you can renew up to 6 months early. Plenty of appointments 2 months out, but it really goes against my procrastinators heart.

I wear the trusty G-Shock daily.

I feel like the missing part is the building was already slated for demo and there were people illegally in it when it collapsed.

All publicity is good publicity

You sound like you’d rush out and help in this scenario? There are several steps I’d have to complete before exiting my house. Even if my family wasn’t home.

My father was a relentlessly self-improving boulangerie owner from Belgium with low-grade narcolepsy and a penchant for buggery. My mother was a fifteen-year-old French prostitute named Chloe with webbed feet. My father would womanize, he would drink. He would make outrageous claims like he invented the question mark. Sometimes he would accuse chestnuts of being lazy. The sort of general malaise that only the genius possess and the insane lament. My childhood was typical. Summers in Rangoon, luge lessons. In the spring we'd make meat helmets. When I was insolent, I was placed in a burlap bag and beaten with reeds- pretty standard, really. At the age of twelve, I received my first scribe. At the age of fourteen, a Zoroastrian named Vilma ritualistically shaved my testicles. There really is nothing like a shorn scrotum... it's breathtaking- I suggest you try it.