If you like my dick
@sfwx-fox will likely become a place solely for dick pics
No more sleeping until 3 pm this month, back to 6am at the end of the month.
Less than 100 until we get to 5,000!
I typed
Hello!
You can’t read this.
In bianary with propper codes and spacing and characters you know, but when I printed it, it just came out as ASCII bianary. FUCK YOU COMPUTER, THIS IS WHY I RARELY PRINT THINGS, HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO USE BIANARY?
Some of y'all run some innocent ass blogs, but I see through your veils, your secret’s safe with me!
Yiff Blog - Blogger confidentiality.
Ticking away the moments that make up a dull day. Fritter and waste the hours in an off-hand way. Kicking around on a piece of ground in your home town, waiting for someone or something to show you the way. Tired of lying in the sunshine staying home to watch the rain. You are young and life is long and there is time to kill today. And then one day you find ten years have got behind you. No one told you when to run, you missed the starting gun. And you run and you run to catch up with the sun but it’s sinking, racing around to come up behind you again. The sun is the same in a relative way, but you’re older, shorter of breath and one day closer to death. Every year is getting shorter, never seem to find the time. Plans that either come to naught or half a page of scribbled lines. Hanging on in quiet desperation is the English way. The time is gone, the song is over, thought I’d something more to say.
Home, home again. I like to be here when I can. When I come home cold and tired, it’s good to warm my bones beside the fire. Far away, across the field, the tolling of the iron bell, calls the faithful to their knees, to hear the softly spoken magic spell.
I may noy be a gamer but I can still watch 6+ hours of jacksepticeye when I have nothing to do.
Ticking away the moments that make up a dull day
Fritter and waste the hours in an off-hand way
Kicking around on a piece of ground in your home town
Waiting for someone or something to show you the way
Tired of lying in the sunshine staying home to watch the rain
You are young and life is long and there is time to kill today
And then one day you find ten years have got behind you
No one told you when to run, you missed the starting gun
And you run and you run to catch up with the sun but it’s sinking
Racing around to come up behind you again
The sun is the same in a relative way, but you’re older
Shorter of breath and one day closer to death
Every year is getting shorter, never seem to find the time
Plans that either come to naught or half a page of scribbled lines
Hanging on in quiet desperation is the English way
The time is gone, the song is over, thought I’d something more to say
Home, home again
I like to be here when I can
When I come home cold and tired
It’s good to warm my bones beside the fire
Far away, across the field
The tolling of the iron bell
Calls the faithful to their knees
To hear the softly spoken magic spell
I’m looking for car and I’ve set my sights on a classic fiat 500, an old fiat 126, a fiat 124 spider, a triumph spitfire mkiv, or a Lotus Europa.
Because I’m lazy as shit.