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HOW TO MAKE A WOMAN HAPPY........
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Publié :15/12/2007 22h24
Dernière mise à jour :12/8/2008 7h44 13619 vues
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How to Make a Woman Happy
It’s not difficult to make a woman happy. A man only needs to be:
1. a friend
2. a companion
3. a lover
4. a brother
5. a father
6. a master
7. a chef
8. an electrician
9. a carpenter
10. a plumber
11. a mechanic
12. a decorator
13. a stylist
14. a sexologist
15. a gynecologist
16. a psychologist
17. a pest exterminator
18. a psychiatrist
19. a healer
20. a good listener
21. an organizer
22. a good father
23. very clean
24. sympathetic
25. athletic
26. warm
27. attentive
28. gallant
29. intelligent
30. funny
31. creative
32. tender
33. strong
34. understanding
35. tolerant
36. prudent
37. ambitious
38. capable
39. courageous
40. determined
41. true
42. dependable
43. passionate
44. compassionate
WITHOUT FORGETTING TO:
45. give her compliments regularly
46. love shopping
47. be honest
48. be very rich
49. not stress her out
50. not look at other girls
AND AT THE SAME TIME, YOU MUST ALSO:
51. give her lots of attention, but expect little yourself
52. give her lots of time, especially time for herself
53. give her lots of space, never worrying about where she goes
IT IS VERY IMPORTANT:
54. give her sex at least twice a day
55. Never to forget:
* birthdays
* anniversaries
* arrangements she makes
HOW TO MAKE A MAN HAPPY
1. Show up naked
2. Bring food & beer
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"Friends Wthout Faces"
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Publié :6/3/2008 7h50
Dernière mise à jour :29/9/2009 19h13 13069 vues
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We sit and type,
and we stare at our screens
We all have to wonder,
what this possibly means.
With our mouse we roam,
through the rooms in a maze
looking for something or someone,
as we sit in a daze.
we chat with each other,
we type all our woes
small groups we do form,
and gang up on our foes.
we wait for somebody,
to type our name
We want recognition,
but it is always the same
We give kisses and hugs,
and sometimes flirt
in IMs we chat deeply,
and reveal why we hurt.
We do form friends
but-why we don't know
but some of these friendships,
will flourish and grow.
Why is it on screen,
we can be so bold
Telling our secrets,
that have never been told.
Why is it we share,
the thoughts in our mind
With those we can't see,
as though we were blind.
The answer is simple,
it is as clear as a bell.
We all have problems,
and need someone to tell.
We can't tell real people,
but tell someone we must
so we turn to the 'puter,
and those we can trust.
Even though it is crazy,
the truth still remains
They are friends without Faces,
with odd little names.
Hope that brought a little smile to some faces today... 
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DA' NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS IN POLAND
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Publié :13/12/2007 9h04
Dernière mise à jour :3/5/2012 18h03 12364 vues
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DA NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS IN POLAND
T'was the night before Christmas in my Polish house.
I crept down da stairs as quiet as a mouse. Da rest of my family, they are all asleep, with visions of mushrooms thru their heads, they crept.
Da work shoes hung by the chimney with care, in hopes that St. Stash will soon fill them there. While over in da corner, silly to see, kielbasas and cabbage hung from da tree.
Then there's this big bang and the house starts to shudder, some NUT lands on da roof and breaks da rain gutter. He starts down da chimney, swears cause it's too tight, I hide behind some beer cases, way out of sight.
He lands in da fireplace, scorching his hair, on da old orange, still burning in there. He climbs out - I peek, and get a big look, he looks like da picture, in my Polish book. He's got vodka glazed eyes, and a stomak like a bubble, a five day beard, there's soot on da stubble. And he's lost all da bottom of old Mackinaw, and he wears da biggest tennis shoes you ever did saw.
This Polish Santa, I know without fear, cause he heads for da kitchen and opens a beer. When he finishes da six pack, he gives a big smirk, reaches in his potato sack, and goes to work. Now under da tree he starts to set, da most beautiful present a Pollock can get. There's a mushroom basket, and a shovel for brother, a bright red bubaska and a pic-ax for Mother.
I must see him leave, so I rushed outside, and looks up on da roof, while in da bushes I hide, and what do I see thru da twigs? But his old wooden garbage crate, pulled by eight pigs. Polish Santa jumps in and yells, just like a fink, "Come on you pigs, don't just stand there and stink. On Stella, on Walter, on Stanley and Joe and all youse other names I don't know. Fly over da junk yard and turn to da right, let's visit all peoples, before I get tight."
Then I heard him say, as he flew over me, "I'm the only Pollock that gives things for free." !!!
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T' WAS THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS.....
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Publié :11/12/2007 7h57
Dernière mise à jour :9/5/2024 18h9 12427 vues
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T'WAS THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS......
T'was the night before Christmas, and God was it neat,
The kids were both gone, and my wife was in heat.
The doors were all bolted, and the phone off the hook,
It was time for some nooky, by hook or by crook.
Mama in her teddy, and I in the nude,
Had just hit the bedroom and reached for the lube.
When out on the lawn there arose such a cry,
That I lost my boner and poor Mama went dry.
Up to the window I sprang like an elf,
Tore back the shade while she played with herself.
The moon on the crest of the snowman we built,
Showed a broom up his ass, clean up to the hilt.
When what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a rusty old sleigh and 8 mangy reindeer.
With a fat little driver half out of his sled,
A sock in his ear, and a bra on his head.
Sure as I'm speaking, he was as high as a kite,
And he yelled to his team, but it didn't sound right.
Whoa Shithead, whoa Asshole, whoa Stupid, whoa Putz,
Either slow down this rig or I'll cut off your nuts.
Look out for the lamp post, and don't hit the tree,
Quit shaking the sleigh, 'cause I gotta go pee.
They cleared the old lamp post, the tree got a rub,
Just as Santa leaned out and threw up on my shrub.
And then from the roof we heard such a clatter,
As each little reindeer now emptied his bladder.
I was donning my jacket to cover my ass,
When down the chimney Santa came with a crash.
His suit was all smelly with perfume galore,
He looked like a bum and he smelled like a whore.
"That was some brothel" he said with a smile,
"The reindeer are pooped, so I'll just stay here a while."
He walked to the kitchen, himself poured a drink,
Then whipped out his pecker and pissed in the sink.
I started to laugh, my wife smiled with glee,
The old boy was hung nearly down to his knee.
Back in the den, Santa reached in his sack,
But his toys were all gone, and some new things were packed.
The first thing he found was a pair of false tits,
The next was a handgun, with a penis that spits.
A box filled with condoms was Santa's next find,
And a six pack of panties, the edible kind.
A bra without nipples, a penis extension,
And several other things I shouldn't even mention.
A fuck ring, a g-string, and all types of oil,
A dildo so long, it lay in a coil.
"This stuff ain't for kids, Mrs. Santa will shit,
So I'll leav'em here, and then I'll have'ta split."
He filled every stocking and then took his leave,
With one tiny butt plug left under his sleeve.
He sprang to his sleigh, but his feet were like lead,
Thus he fell on his ass and broke wind instead.
In time he was seated, took the reigns of his hitch,
Saying, "Take me home Rudolph, this nights been a BITCH!"
The sleigh was near gone when we heard Santa shout,
"The best thing about sex is that it never wears out!"
Merry Christmas!!
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