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A Question for All of My European Friends...

This thread has gone horribly awry.
 
volcano, huh? child's play.

we had to get up at 4:00AM to muck out the reactor core. by lunch we were glowin' so hot paw would have to come and spit on us t'keep us cool. and we didn't have to stop work 'cause the sun went down, with the glow and all, so we usually worked until midnight, where paw would molest us to sleep.
 
The sight of innocent children blowing up condom balloons in the park near the fountain is enough to bring a happy tear to my eye, even today.
 
My parents washing machine is in the kitchen as well, and they're here in the states. I think it depends on when the house was built and who the architect was. My parents house is the only one without a garage in the neighborhood, because someone else built their house, so who knows. WEIRDNESS.
 
Parents? You were lucky! I was raised by rapists!
 
Rapists, huh? Luxury. Me and my brothers and sisters were raised by Skinofevil. all we had to eat were broken glass shards and duck vomit (in a white wine sauce).
 
tis how it was supose to an has always been, eat ya kids its for the best.
 
Eat? You were lucky! We had broken glass rammed up our arses by Dale Winton.
 
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