

I don’t do drugs. I am drugs. --Salvador Dalí
It’s not exactly relevant to the original question, but is to your response … My mom always told me “don’t do drugs, but if you do, do them with me so I can make sure you’re doing them right.”
Was that her policy on sex too?
Edit: a lot of people without a sense of humor in this thread.
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The cremains came in a bag inside of a box made of corrugated plastic. His mother and I split the cremains in the parking lot of a seedy motel. My half went into a big gulp or similar cup until I got them into his water bottle (it is a nice metal one, not like a plastic disposable bottle).
Step one: pour beer down the drain
Step two: enjoy some apple juice
Step three: have a huge glass of water
My son is in his water bottle. Never bought an urn from the crematorium.
The chonky kitty was existing on a diet of cookies and soup when his pudgy plight was discovered, Newsflash reported.
It’s believed that hospital staff enjoyed feeding him to the point where things went more than a little overboard.
“Kroshik’s story is an extremely rare case when someone loved a cat so much that they fed him to such a state,” a spokesperson for the Matroskin Shelter in Prem explained.
Mr fancy pants over here with his two buttons
Was there a question?