When I Get Home


                    
                    
                

                

                

            

        
    







            

            
            

                

                    
                

                

                    

                        


	

	
    

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    Ass, College, and Confused: let-the-phoenix-fly:
 malfkoys
 my cat has been fucking playing me for weeks, playing me like a fucking
 harp. I feed my cat twice a day with prescribed diet food because she's
 really fat and doesn't know when she's full so she never stops eating
 usually when I come home from class she is all over me like the whore of
 babylon all over me putting on a pity party and trying to get me to sin and
 give her more food but no matter what I only feed her the amount of food
 for her prescribed diet, but after awhile i started noticing that she wasn't
 loosing weight at all and was actually just getting fatter, so I called the vet
 pissed and i'm just like the fuck she's still getting fat. so I switched her to
 another diet food and that still didn't work and I was so confused and
 frustrated like what is wrong with this cat? so a couple weeks go by and I
 start noticing that I go through bags of food really fast like a week fast and
 I remembered how I thought that was so weird like l God honest could not
 figure out why the food disappeared so fast (my former naive and innocernt
 mind) well y'all ready here's the fucking climax-the other day my class
 was canceled and I come downstairs at like noonish and do you know
 what I see when I get down? I see my fucking cat sitting in the food bin.
 with my own two eyes I see her sitting in the fucking food bin. my spoiled
 ass cat has been eating like a fucking queen and living it the fuck up while
 I'm in class and then pretends like she's hungry when i get home. and you
 know what's the real kicker? when she leaves the lid gets knocked shut
 which is why i never caught onto her scam. she's fucking been working
 the system and playing the food game right under my fucking nose like i
 want to scream and now I have to call the vet and the morning and explain
 to him how, a well educated adult in college. got one-upped in
 intelligence by my fucking cat
 Read the whole thing
what kind of posts do u want cause my stats been like bye bye
    

        
        
        
        
        
        
        
        
    

    

        

            
            

                
                Ass, College, and Confused: let-the-phoenix-fly:
 malfkoys
 my cat has been fucking playing me for weeks, playing me like a fucking
 harp. I feed my cat twice a day with prescribed diet food because she's
 really fat and doesn't know when she's full so she never stops eating
 usually when I come home from class she is all over me like the whore of
 babylon all over me putting on a pity party and trying to get me to sin and
 give her more food but no matter what I only feed her the amount of food
 for her prescribed diet, but after awhile i started noticing that she wasn't
 loosing weight at all and was actually just getting fatter, so I called the vet
 pissed and i'm just like the fuck she's still getting fat. so I switched her to
 another diet food and that still didn't work and I was so confused and
 frustrated like what is wrong with this cat? so a couple weeks go by and I
 start noticing that I go through bags of food really fast like a week fast and
 I remembered how I thought that was so weird like l God honest could not
 figure out why the food disappeared so fast (my former naive and innocernt
 mind) well y'all ready here's the fucking climax-the other day my class
 was canceled and I come downstairs at like noonish and do you know
 what I see when I get down? I see my fucking cat sitting in the food bin.
 with my own two eyes I see her sitting in the fucking food bin. my spoiled
 ass cat has been eating like a fucking queen and living it the fuck up while
 I'm in class and then pretends like she's hungry when i get home. and you
 know what's the real kicker? when she leaves the lid gets knocked shut
 which is why i never caught onto her scam. she's fucking been working
 the system and playing the food game right under my fucking nose like i
 want to scream and now I have to call the vet and the morning and explain
 to him how, a well educated adult in college. got one-upped in
 intelligence by my fucking cat
 Read the whole thing
what kind of posts do u want cause my stats been like bye bye
                
            

            
            
what kind of posts do u want cause my stats been like bye bye

            
            
        

    



        

            
        
        

            




    Apple, Beard, and Beautiful: 62,681
 do all Americans have pet eagles?
 Yes
 I remember my first eagle ceremony
 when I turned nine. The first eagle you get
 is always declawed, which I always
 thought was pretty inhumane, but it was a
 good way to ease into caring for the birds.
 My eagle (named Baldy, because I wasnt
 a terribly clever child) was already quite
 old when I received him (he was a rescue
 eagle, luckily) but I did have him until I
 was 16. I don't know if I was more excited
 about getting my drivers license that year
 or my new eagle! You should have seen
 the party we had when I got him, too!
 Grilled hot dogs and fire works and
 lemonade... obviously I named my
 beautiful new eagle Freedom. He's too
 big to keep inside anymore, unfortunatey
 but we've got a pretty comfortable roost
 for him on our apartment's balcony
 Ah, yes, the eagle ceremony! My Justice and I
 remember his quite well. (They had just come
 out with telepathic link transplants when I got
 him, which is how I know he remembers it.)
 Our celebration was quite modest, compared
 to Freedom's-apple pie under a cloudless
 summer sky as we signed our Declaration of
 Interdependence. I still have the inked and
 talon-plerced document hanging on my wall.
 what is this
 Get out Canada
 I was so scared during my pet eagle ceremony I almost
 threw up. But Stonewall Jackson and I have been best
 friends ever since. My dad and grandfather built a really
 massive roost behind the house for my eagle and my
 sisters' eagles. Stonewall always waits for me when I get
 home from class since schools are getting so over
 protective and strict these days and won't allow eagles
 indoors. Which just goes to show how much we're bubble
 wrapping kids today. Back in the day, if you couldn't handle
 a few stitches because you pissed off the wrong kid's eagle
 you had to just man up and learn your lesson!
 Ooo, I never miss a chance to tell this story! I had a rather
 unusual first eagle ceremony. The traditional giant American flag
 that you wave around to summon your eagle had been severely
 damaged the week prior (a ceremony that had not gone
 according to plan, but the child only suffered minor talon
 wounds. The flag took the brunt of the attack). Anyway, I
 couldn't use the normal flag so we had to search ALL OVER for
 one suitable for eagle summoning. Unfortunately the stripes
 weren't the correct shade of patriotic red so everyone was
 worried an eagle wouldn't show up at all. I had to stand in the
 middle of that wheat field, the wind creating amber waves out of
 it, shaking that flag in the air for over three hours. Everyone was
 just about to give up when suddenly Patriot appeared out of
 nowhere! He came to me so quickly it was like he was
 apologizing for being late. And we've been together ever since.
 Some people think it's excessive to have two eagles. But what can I
 say, I'm a two eagles kind of guy. Well, I can say, "You must be a
 terrorist to call me out over my excesses," but I digress. We don't
 have many open fields around here, so I got Liberty by waving my
 flag atop a decommissioned WWll aircraft carrier. I was kicking a
 couple of boxes of tea into the harbor for good measure, and there
 she was. I loved her so much I repeated the process a year later
 and got young Colbert here. It's hard work, raising two eagles, but I
 have two shoulders, after all. Besides, I know that the secret to
 happy and healthy eagles is plenty of Bud Light.
 Oh man, the eagle ceremony. I was a weird fucking kid, okay, so l was
 totally sure that the eagle ceremony wasn't just going to net me my eagle
 and deepen the mystical bond between a citizen and their country, I
 thought I was going to get to turn into an eagle too. So me and my mom
 and my dad and my little brother are all standing in the old civil war
 battleground, surrounded by the ghosts of our fallen soldiers, and all and
 the problem here- it's not usually a problem because I make sure to
 shave my beard off twice a day, three times on sundays- was that I am,
 actually, born on the fourth of July. So it wasn't just one eagle that
 showed up, it was pretty much every big old patriotic warbird in Missouri,
 all flapping around confused and pissed off, their innate senses of
 direction completely fucked up by the way firecracker babies warp
 America's natural system of ley lines. And I was six, so grabbed the flag
 and ran with it over my shoulders, rippling in the wind, thinking it was
 going to turn into wings for me and I would go be an eagle with all the
 other eagles. Instead I just got mobbed by a freaked-out mess of
 nationalistic avians who all weighed more than I did. I lost half my nose
 and my whole left arm and spent most of fourth grade in reconstructive
 surgery getting machine guns welded on to the shattered remains of my
 ulna. Completely missed my little brother's eagle ceremony, which I wil
 always regret, but it was all worth it to have met Columbia. I never did turn
 into an eagle on the outside, but I like to think those long hours in the
 hospital, feeding her rubbing alcohol and my own blood, have made me
 an eagle in my heart.
 you should probably go to TheMetaPicture.com
srsfunny:

Do All Americans Really Have Pet Eagles?
    

        
        
        
        
        
        
        
        
    

    

        

            
            

                
                Apple, Beard, and Beautiful: 62,681
 do all Americans have pet eagles?
 Yes
 I remember my first eagle ceremony
 when I turned nine. The first eagle you get
 is always declawed, which I always
 thought was pretty inhumane, but it was a
 good way to ease into caring for the birds.
 My eagle (named Baldy, because I wasnt
 a terribly clever child) was already quite
 old when I received him (he was a rescue
 eagle, luckily) but I did have him until I
 was 16. I don't know if I was more excited
 about getting my drivers license that year
 or my new eagle! You should have seen
 the party we had when I got him, too!
 Grilled hot dogs and fire works and
 lemonade... obviously I named my
 beautiful new eagle Freedom. He's too
 big to keep inside anymore, unfortunatey
 but we've got a pretty comfortable roost
 for him on our apartment's balcony
 Ah, yes, the eagle ceremony! My Justice and I
 remember his quite well. (They had just come
 out with telepathic link transplants when I got
 him, which is how I know he remembers it.)
 Our celebration was quite modest, compared
 to Freedom's-apple pie under a cloudless
 summer sky as we signed our Declaration of
 Interdependence. I still have the inked and
 talon-plerced document hanging on my wall.
 what is this
 Get out Canada
 I was so scared during my pet eagle ceremony I almost
 threw up. But Stonewall Jackson and I have been best
 friends ever since. My dad and grandfather built a really
 massive roost behind the house for my eagle and my
 sisters' eagles. Stonewall always waits for me when I get
 home from class since schools are getting so over
 protective and strict these days and won't allow eagles
 indoors. Which just goes to show how much we're bubble
 wrapping kids today. Back in the day, if you couldn't handle
 a few stitches because you pissed off the wrong kid's eagle
 you had to just man up and learn your lesson!
 Ooo, I never miss a chance to tell this story! I had a rather
 unusual first eagle ceremony. The traditional giant American flag
 that you wave around to summon your eagle had been severely
 damaged the week prior (a ceremony that had not gone
 according to plan, but the child only suffered minor talon
 wounds. The flag took the brunt of the attack). Anyway, I
 couldn't use the normal flag so we had to search ALL OVER for
 one suitable for eagle summoning. Unfortunately the stripes
 weren't the correct shade of patriotic red so everyone was
 worried an eagle wouldn't show up at all. I had to stand in the
 middle of that wheat field, the wind creating amber waves out of
 it, shaking that flag in the air for over three hours. Everyone was
 just about to give up when suddenly Patriot appeared out of
 nowhere! He came to me so quickly it was like he was
 apologizing for being late. And we've been together ever since.
 Some people think it's excessive to have two eagles. But what can I
 say, I'm a two eagles kind of guy. Well, I can say, "You must be a
 terrorist to call me out over my excesses," but I digress. We don't
 have many open fields around here, so I got Liberty by waving my
 flag atop a decommissioned WWll aircraft carrier. I was kicking a
 couple of boxes of tea into the harbor for good measure, and there
 she was. I loved her so much I repeated the process a year later
 and got young Colbert here. It's hard work, raising two eagles, but I
 have two shoulders, after all. Besides, I know that the secret to
 happy and healthy eagles is plenty of Bud Light.
 Oh man, the eagle ceremony. I was a weird fucking kid, okay, so l was
 totally sure that the eagle ceremony wasn't just going to net me my eagle
 and deepen the mystical bond between a citizen and their country, I
 thought I was going to get to turn into an eagle too. So me and my mom
 and my dad and my little brother are all standing in the old civil war
 battleground, surrounded by the ghosts of our fallen soldiers, and all and
 the problem here- it's not usually a problem because I make sure to
 shave my beard off twice a day, three times on sundays- was that I am,
 actually, born on the fourth of July. So it wasn't just one eagle that
 showed up, it was pretty much every big old patriotic warbird in Missouri,
 all flapping around confused and pissed off, their innate senses of
 direction completely fucked up by the way firecracker babies warp
 America's natural system of ley lines. And I was six, so grabbed the flag
 and ran with it over my shoulders, rippling in the wind, thinking it was
 going to turn into wings for me and I would go be an eagle with all the
 other eagles. Instead I just got mobbed by a freaked-out mess of
 nationalistic avians who all weighed more than I did. I lost half my nose
 and my whole left arm and spent most of fourth grade in reconstructive
 surgery getting machine guns welded on to the shattered remains of my
 ulna. Completely missed my little brother's eagle ceremony, which I wil
 always regret, but it was all worth it to have met Columbia. I never did turn
 into an eagle on the outside, but I like to think those long hours in the
 hospital, feeding her rubbing alcohol and my own blood, have made me
 an eagle in my heart.
 you should probably go to TheMetaPicture.com
srsfunny:

Do All Americans Really Have Pet Eagles?
                
            

            
            
srsfunny:

Do All Americans Really Have Pet Eagles?