Cayos.com Free Porn Galleries 05/Jan/2007
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Gallery by 18 Magazine |
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Valentina Vaughn & Carli Banks Scorching Hot Lesbians
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Playboy Classics From The Goose
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Playboy Classics - The Dons Daughter In Law
Playboy Classics - Girl On A Dolphin Playboy Classics - Girls Of Canada 3 Playboy Classic - Scuba Girls 1 - Lesson In Beauty Playboy Classic - Scuba Girls 2 - Two Thumbs Up Playboy Classic - Tennis Anyone? Playboy Classic - Topless Hunting Playboy Classic - Working Out Playboy Classics - The Girls Of Hooters Playboy Classics - The Porno Girls Playboy Classics - The Women Of Atlanta Playboy Classics - The Women Of MENSA Playboy Classics - The Women Of Steel Playboy Classics - The Women Of Wall Street Playboy Classics - Way Down West In Mexico Playboy Classics - Women Of James Bond Playboy Classics - Women Of The Greek Isles Playboy Classics - Playmates Unwrapped
Visit Babes@theGoose for More Gooning Goosie Goodness
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Playboy Classics - The Dons Daughter In Law
Playboy Classics - Girl On A Dolphin Playboy Classics - Girls Of Canada 3 Playboy Classic - Scuba Girls 1 - Lesson In Beauty Playboy Classic - Scuba Girls 2 - Two Thumbs Up Playboy Classic - Tennis Anyone? Playboy Classic - Topless Hunting Playboy Classic - Working Out Playboy Classics - The Girls Of Hooters Playboy Classics - The Porno Girls Playboy Classics - The Women Of Atlanta Playboy Classics - The Women Of MENSA Playboy Classics - The Women Of Steel Playboy Classics - The Women Of Wall Street Playboy Classics - Way Down West In Mexico Playboy Classics - Women Of James Bond Playboy Classics - Women Of The Greek Isles Playboy Classics - Playmates Unwrapped
Visit Babes@theGoose for More Gooning Goosie Goodness
Blue Giraffe Storms Out of Peace Talks
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Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to the wonderful 200Z
Derr Fat Greetz Updakt: (Plug me, love me_) Xx
Valentina Vaughn & Carli Banks Scorching Hot Lesbians
If I missed you, its because I've been away for 2weeks, you didn't get the memo? I was talking Knicks and Chicks, I know this 18year old bimbette that's totally gorgeous, and I had to go fly fishing with a really big client. Get at me, let me know what you're investment is and we can broker an exchange. Love you Xx. Shout some abuse to be removed, I can't promise you the word bimbette wont be used again.
Enough cheap salesman talk. Your subscription to the Zini mailshot is due for annual renewal. So err, don't forget. Dr Fact is knocking at the door, will someone let the man in? Since over the past two weeks the currency of pounds sterling had been replaced nationwide with glasses of sherry we've seen a slide in productivity leading to the inevitable traffic snooze. Whilst Cayos clings to its alexa graph tentatively spazzed on a life-drip be mindful that 2007 is the year of Zin - 200Z, and though nursing a mouth full of ulcers, a cold weather split lip and customary post chrimbo paunch, I am back in the saddle and will be jockeying this filthy mutt of a horse up to where the air is thin and you can get drunk off a single pint of mild.
New year is supposed to be a time to set some targets... but my resolution to become a nihilist caused such a brewhaha at the new year's eve party I went to I'm not sure I should bother with it anymore, if indeed you can bother with being a nihilist. I think maybe two people left early with clinical depression, having spent what felt like 15minutes but was probably more like 3hours of me arguing with them that "nothing means anything... ...anymore" I should get that tattooed somewhere on my body Memento style, so each morning I wont forget it. Its something I've came to realise in 2006. You're brought up to believe you mean something, be someone, do something... then you realise that so have all those faces that you have irrational contempt for, they're stinking up the shopping arcade you're trying to escape carrying a potted plant for your Grandmother who already has a half dozen potted plants and you're carrying out this charade full well in the knowledge that she just wanted to see you over Christmas but knew that unless you could play white knight and tell everyone you helped you grandma with a potted plant over christmas then you would make some crappy excuse or simply not turn up siting possible nihilism as the reason. Nothing seems to upset friends and family more than telling them you've become a nihilist, especially at Christmas.
New Year's; I was pretty drunk fairly early on in the evening, and courting controversy because everything was happening in slow motion, in that way that it does inside the mind of a drunken nihilist. I was having those pissed up epiphanies where you can see inside someone's head and quite literally read what they're thinking before they can, authoring my own Wednesday play, characterising everyone into some shrew of themselves, it was all quite surreal as I watched my drunken self soberly from a very dark corner in the back of my mind. I was Salinger, puppeting Zini as Holden to entertain the mob. What difference does it make? I remember the first of the many times I woke up the following morning, having those god awful stomach churning intensely dark flashbacks that only people who've taken a serious amount of hallucinogens can empahise with, and as I instigated the first stage of hang over cure, the jiggy-leg, I vowed not to look back, only forward, the ability to laugh at oneself and not take yourself too seriously is a sign of true strength of character.
The previous evening I had challenged some washed up whorey looking 30something sat on a bar stool to a kind of pseudo intellectual public debate that she was clearly neither equipped with the energy or the necessary skills to be a part of, I had instantly cast her as the supposedly better half of a member of staff, explaning her chosen seat, and ashtray half full of stubbed fags, in hindsight Freud may use the role I had given her to explain my coquettish fancy to rile her forbidden feathers. I got her musing on the murders of the Suffolk prostitutes and once she'd shown her colours as a slightly left of center commie sympathising loony left pinko liberal I started blurting the most mindless torrent of right wing politics with all the theatre of Prime Minister's question time. She was bemused to say the least, gobsmacked in truth, and I brought the house down by shouting across a crowded bar that they should have rounded up the lot and dropped the big one on them, police, prostitutes, the fucking lot. By now I was Travis Beakle, mohawk and all, sick of wiping the fluids off of my Cayos front page posts. The scum, the cunts, the dogs, the filth, the shit.
The truth is somewhere in the murk of that ridiculous tale, the loneliness of a man struggling to come to terms with another washed away year, drunk in a pub being rejected by a woman even he himself thought to disgusting to approach in the first place, but I thought the story needed a bit of pep, or you might just think I was some kind of loser. Ha! yeah... pfff.
...there's plenty more zini christmas tales from the last two weeks, that was all but about 2hours entertainment, but I'm done typing for now... I never even got onto my Marisa Tomei and Micky Rooney New Year's resolutions.
Support StepTv - Make it happen. Xx
Zini Lives.
200Z
Cayos.com
[direct link]
Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to the wonderful 200Z
Derr Fat Greetz Updakt: (Plug me, love me_) Xx
Valentina Vaughn & Carli Banks Scorching Hot Lesbians
If I missed you, its because I've been away for 2weeks, you didn't get the memo? I was talking Knicks and Chicks, I know this 18year old bimbette that's totally gorgeous, and I had to go fly fishing with a really big client. Get at me, let me know what you're investment is and we can broker an exchange. Love you Xx. Shout some abuse to be removed, I can't promise you the word bimbette wont be used again.
Enough cheap salesman talk. Your subscription to the Zini mailshot is due for annual renewal. So err, don't forget. Dr Fact is knocking at the door, will someone let the man in? Since over the past two weeks the currency of pounds sterling had been replaced nationwide with glasses of sherry we've seen a slide in productivity leading to the inevitable traffic snooze. Whilst Cayos clings to its alexa graph tentatively spazzed on a life-drip be mindful that 2007 is the year of Zin - 200Z, and though nursing a mouth full of ulcers, a cold weather split lip and customary post chrimbo paunch, I am back in the saddle and will be jockeying this filthy mutt of a horse up to where the air is thin and you can get drunk off a single pint of mild.
New year is supposed to be a time to set some targets... but my resolution to become a nihilist caused such a brewhaha at the new year's eve party I went to I'm not sure I should bother with it anymore, if indeed you can bother with being a nihilist. I think maybe two people left early with clinical depression, having spent what felt like 15minutes but was probably more like 3hours of me arguing with them that "nothing means anything... ...anymore" I should get that tattooed somewhere on my body Memento style, so each morning I wont forget it. Its something I've came to realise in 2006. You're brought up to believe you mean something, be someone, do something... then you realise that so have all those faces that you have irrational contempt for, they're stinking up the shopping arcade you're trying to escape carrying a potted plant for your Grandmother who already has a half dozen potted plants and you're carrying out this charade full well in the knowledge that she just wanted to see you over Christmas but knew that unless you could play white knight and tell everyone you helped you grandma with a potted plant over christmas then you would make some crappy excuse or simply not turn up siting possible nihilism as the reason. Nothing seems to upset friends and family more than telling them you've become a nihilist, especially at Christmas.
New Year's; I was pretty drunk fairly early on in the evening, and courting controversy because everything was happening in slow motion, in that way that it does inside the mind of a drunken nihilist. I was having those pissed up epiphanies where you can see inside someone's head and quite literally read what they're thinking before they can, authoring my own Wednesday play, characterising everyone into some shrew of themselves, it was all quite surreal as I watched my drunken self soberly from a very dark corner in the back of my mind. I was Salinger, puppeting Zini as Holden to entertain the mob. What difference does it make? I remember the first of the many times I woke up the following morning, having those god awful stomach churning intensely dark flashbacks that only people who've taken a serious amount of hallucinogens can empahise with, and as I instigated the first stage of hang over cure, the jiggy-leg, I vowed not to look back, only forward, the ability to laugh at oneself and not take yourself too seriously is a sign of true strength of character.
The previous evening I had challenged some washed up whorey looking 30something sat on a bar stool to a kind of pseudo intellectual public debate that she was clearly neither equipped with the energy or the necessary skills to be a part of, I had instantly cast her as the supposedly better half of a member of staff, explaning her chosen seat, and ashtray half full of stubbed fags, in hindsight Freud may use the role I had given her to explain my coquettish fancy to rile her forbidden feathers. I got her musing on the murders of the Suffolk prostitutes and once she'd shown her colours as a slightly left of center commie sympathising loony left pinko liberal I started blurting the most mindless torrent of right wing politics with all the theatre of Prime Minister's question time. She was bemused to say the least, gobsmacked in truth, and I brought the house down by shouting across a crowded bar that they should have rounded up the lot and dropped the big one on them, police, prostitutes, the fucking lot. By now I was Travis Beakle, mohawk and all, sick of wiping the fluids off of my Cayos front page posts. The scum, the cunts, the dogs, the filth, the shit.
The truth is somewhere in the murk of that ridiculous tale, the loneliness of a man struggling to come to terms with another washed away year, drunk in a pub being rejected by a woman even he himself thought to disgusting to approach in the first place, but I thought the story needed a bit of pep, or you might just think I was some kind of loser. Ha! yeah... pfff.
...there's plenty more zini christmas tales from the last two weeks, that was all but about 2hours entertainment, but I'm done typing for now... I never even got onto my Marisa Tomei and Micky Rooney New Year's resolutions.
Support StepTv - Make it happen. Xx
Zini Lives.
200Z
Cayos.com
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