RM Photo Album - The First One to Ever Exist Ever

[VinylGuy]

My daughter recently quit her job to take up another better one. She enjoyed the job she had and was sad to leave but as I keep telling her "your employer ain't gonna look after you so look after yourself".

She has a thing for ducks and on her last day they filled her car with little rubber ducks. It was funny and kinda sweet.

So she drops past the other day just as me and the wife are headed out. She says she'll walk the dog for us while we are out - sweet.

We get home, she's gone, and there are little rubber ducks fucking everywhere. We've been fully ducked. Everywhere you look a duck. Every cupboard you open, the fridge, the freezer, ducks.

This is most of them but we are still finding them and I suspect will will for some time.



Funny little bitch!

dude i saw an entire shop in Amsterdam devoted to those ducks. You had Trump Duck, Obama Duck, everything. Shop was huge.

[wease]

That’s an amazing story! Thanks for sharing.

[Sloppy Dupree]

[spike]

My daughter recently quit her job to take up another better one. She enjoyed the job she had and was sad to leave but as I keep telling her "your employer ain't gonna look after you so look after yourself".

She has a thing for ducks and on her last day they filled her car with little rubber ducks. It was funny and kinda sweet.

So she drops past the other day just as me and the wife are headed out. She says she'll walk the dog for us while we are out - sweet.

We get home, she's gone, and there are little rubber ducks fucking everywhere. We've been fully ducked. Everywhere you look a duck. Every cupboard you open, the fridge, the freezer, ducks.

This is most of them but we are still finding them and I suspect will will for some time.



Funny little bitch!

now tell us about your struggles with OCD

[tragabigzanda]

There is a wolf in me . . . fangs pointed for tearing gashes . . . a red tongue for raw meat . . . and the hot lapping of blood—I keep this wolf because the wilderness gave it to me and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fox in me . . . a silver-gray fox . . . I sniff and guess . . . I pick things out of the wind and air . . . I nose in the dark night and take sleepers and eat them and hide the feathers . . . I circle and loop and double-cross.

There is a hog in me . . . a snout and a belly . . . a machinery for eating and grunting . . . a machinery for sleeping satisfied in the sun—I got this too from the wilderness and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fish in me . . . I know I came from salt-blue water-gates . . . I scurried with shoals of herring . . . I blew waterspouts with porpoises . . . before land was . . . before the water went down . . . before Noah . . . before the first chapter of Genesis.

There is a baboon in me . . . clambering-clawed . . . dog-faced . . . yawping a galoot's hunger . . . hairy under the armpits . . . here are the hawk-eyed hankering men . . . here are the blonde and blue-eyed women . . . here they hide curled asleep waiting . . . ready to snarl and kill . . . ready to sing and give milk . . . waiting—I keep the baboon because the wilderness says so.

There is an eagle in me and a mockingbird . . . and the eagle flies among the Rocky Mountains of my dreams and fights among the Sierra crags of what I want . . . and the mockingbird warbles in the early forenoon before the dew is gone, warbles in the underbrush of my Chattanoogas of hope, gushes over the blue Ozark foothills of my wishes—And I got the eagle and the mockingbird from the wilderness.

O, I got a zoo, I got a menagerie, inside my ribs, under my bony head, under my red-valve heart—and I got something else: it is a man-child heart, a woman-child heart: it is a father and mother and lover: it came from God-Knows-Where: it is going to God-Knows-Where—For I am the keeper of the zoo: I say yes and no: I sing and kill and work: I am a pal of the world: I came from the wilderness.

[oasisfan35]

My daughter recently quit her job to take up another better one. She enjoyed the job she had and was sad to leave but as I keep telling her "your employer ain't gonna look after you so look after yourself".

She has a thing for ducks and on her last day they filled her car with little rubber ducks. It was funny and kinda sweet.

So she drops past the other day just as me and the wife are headed out. She says she'll walk the dog for us while we are out - sweet.

We get home, she's gone, and there are little rubber ducks fucking everywhere. We've been fully ducked. Everywhere you look a duck. Every cupboard you open, the fridge, the freezer, ducks.

This is most of them but we are still finding them and I suspect will will for some time.



Funny little bitch!

now tell us about your struggles with OCD

Does one not want all their ducks in a row? I assume the move to columns was due to space restrictions.

[Rangi Guy]

Few pics from my trip to Santiago...first one is the amazing view on the rooftop, then the also amazing beach of Zapallar and third is my amazing girl and me in the city.

Cool pics Guy. You and your lady make a great looking couple!

[lennytheweedwhacker]

Bruh, that's his daughter

[wease]

Few pics from my trip to Santiago...first one is the amazing view on the rooftop, then the also amazing beach of Zapallar and third is my amazing girl and me in the city.

Nice!!!

[Rangi Guy]

Bruh, that's his daughter

I said what I said!!!

[lennytheweedwhacker]

Bruh, that's his daughter

I said what I said!!!

Oh may be his step-daughter. In that case yeah they're good to plow.

[VinylGuy]

Thank you Rangi and Wease!!

We had a lot of fun in Santiago yeah. Bought a lot of stuff, clothes are half the price than in Buenos Aires. Its insane.

[tragabigzanda]

There is a wolf in me . . . fangs pointed for tearing gashes . . . a red tongue for raw meat . . . and the hot lapping of blood—I keep this wolf because the wilderness gave it to me and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fox in me . . . a silver-gray fox . . . I sniff and guess . . . I pick things out of the wind and air . . . I nose in the dark night and take sleepers and eat them and hide the feathers . . . I circle and loop and double-cross.

There is a hog in me . . . a snout and a belly . . . a machinery for eating and grunting . . . a machinery for sleeping satisfied in the sun—I got this too from the wilderness and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fish in me . . . I know I came from salt-blue water-gates . . . I scurried with shoals of herring . . . I blew waterspouts with porpoises . . . before land was . . . before the water went down . . . before Noah . . . before the first chapter of Genesis.

There is a baboon in me . . . clambering-clawed . . . dog-faced . . . yawping a galoot's hunger . . . hairy under the armpits . . . here are the hawk-eyed hankering men . . . here are the blonde and blue-eyed women . . . here they hide curled asleep waiting . . . ready to snarl and kill . . . ready to sing and give milk . . . waiting—I keep the baboon because the wilderness says so.

There is an eagle in me and a mockingbird . . . and the eagle flies among the Rocky Mountains of my dreams and fights among the Sierra crags of what I want . . . and the mockingbird warbles in the early forenoon before the dew is gone, warbles in the underbrush of my Chattanoogas of hope, gushes over the blue Ozark foothills of my wishes—And I got the eagle and the mockingbird from the wilderness.

O, I got a zoo, I got a menagerie, inside my ribs, under my bony head, under my red-valve heart—and I got something else: it is a man-child heart, a woman-child heart: it is a father and mother and lover: it came from God-Knows-Where: it is going to God-Knows-Where—For I am the keeper of the zoo: I say yes and no: I sing and kill and work: I am a pal of the world: I came from the wilderness.

[Ello Sailor]

Leave it to Trag to make it weird.

[spike]

[tragabigzanda]

There is a wolf in me . . . fangs pointed for tearing gashes . . . a red tongue for raw meat . . . and the hot lapping of blood—I keep this wolf because the wilderness gave it to me and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fox in me . . . a silver-gray fox . . . I sniff and guess . . . I pick things out of the wind and air . . . I nose in the dark night and take sleepers and eat them and hide the feathers . . . I circle and loop and double-cross.

There is a hog in me . . . a snout and a belly . . . a machinery for eating and grunting . . . a machinery for sleeping satisfied in the sun—I got this too from the wilderness and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fish in me . . . I know I came from salt-blue water-gates . . . I scurried with shoals of herring . . . I blew waterspouts with porpoises . . . before land was . . . before the water went down . . . before Noah . . . before the first chapter of Genesis.

There is a baboon in me . . . clambering-clawed . . . dog-faced . . . yawping a galoot's hunger . . . hairy under the armpits . . . here are the hawk-eyed hankering men . . . here are the blonde and blue-eyed women . . . here they hide curled asleep waiting . . . ready to snarl and kill . . . ready to sing and give milk . . . waiting—I keep the baboon because the wilderness says so.

There is an eagle in me and a mockingbird . . . and the eagle flies among the Rocky Mountains of my dreams and fights among the Sierra crags of what I want . . . and the mockingbird warbles in the early forenoon before the dew is gone, warbles in the underbrush of my Chattanoogas of hope, gushes over the blue Ozark foothills of my wishes—And I got the eagle and the mockingbird from the wilderness.

O, I got a zoo, I got a menagerie, inside my ribs, under my bony head, under my red-valve heart—and I got something else: it is a man-child heart, a woman-child heart: it is a father and mother and lover: it came from God-Knows-Where: it is going to God-Knows-Where—For I am the keeper of the zoo: I say yes and no: I sing and kill and work: I am a pal of the world: I came from the wilderness.

[spike]

Have you found her Insta yet, trag?

[Higgs]

My daughter recently quit her job to take up another better one. She enjoyed the job she had and was sad to leave but as I keep telling her "your employer ain't gonna look after you so look after yourself".

She has a thing for ducks and on her last day they filled her car with little rubber ducks. It was funny and kinda sweet.

So she drops past the other day just as me and the wife are headed out. She says she'll walk the dog for us while we are out - sweet.

We get home, she's gone, and there are little rubber ducks fucking everywhere. We've been fully ducked. Everywhere you look a duck. Every cupboard you open, the fridge, the freezer, ducks.

This is most of them but we are still finding them and I suspect will will for some time.



Funny little bitch!

now tell us about your struggles with OCD

Does one not want all their ducks in a row? I assume the move to columns was due to space restrictions.

Yep, combination of OCD and space restrictions. We've found more since that pic and are almost fully out of space on the cupboard. Quite impressive really.

Thankfully I quite like ducks.

Also, looking good VG.

[VinylGuy]

Have you found her Insta yet, trag?

[tragabigzanda]

There is a wolf in me . . . fangs pointed for tearing gashes . . . a red tongue for raw meat . . . and the hot lapping of blood—I keep this wolf because the wilderness gave it to me and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fox in me . . . a silver-gray fox . . . I sniff and guess . . . I pick things out of the wind and air . . . I nose in the dark night and take sleepers and eat them and hide the feathers . . . I circle and loop and double-cross.

There is a hog in me . . . a snout and a belly . . . a machinery for eating and grunting . . . a machinery for sleeping satisfied in the sun—I got this too from the wilderness and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fish in me . . . I know I came from salt-blue water-gates . . . I scurried with shoals of herring . . . I blew waterspouts with porpoises . . . before land was . . . before the water went down . . . before Noah . . . before the first chapter of Genesis.

There is a baboon in me . . . clambering-clawed . . . dog-faced . . . yawping a galoot's hunger . . . hairy under the armpits . . . here are the hawk-eyed hankering men . . . here are the blonde and blue-eyed women . . . here they hide curled asleep waiting . . . ready to snarl and kill . . . ready to sing and give milk . . . waiting—I keep the baboon because the wilderness says so.

There is an eagle in me and a mockingbird . . . and the eagle flies among the Rocky Mountains of my dreams and fights among the Sierra crags of what I want . . . and the mockingbird warbles in the early forenoon before the dew is gone, warbles in the underbrush of my Chattanoogas of hope, gushes over the blue Ozark foothills of my wishes—And I got the eagle and the mockingbird from the wilderness.

O, I got a zoo, I got a menagerie, inside my ribs, under my bony head, under my red-valve heart—and I got something else: it is a man-child heart, a woman-child heart: it is a father and mother and lover: it came from God-Knows-Where: it is going to God-Knows-Where—For I am the keeper of the zoo: I say yes and no: I sing and kill and work: I am a pal of the world: I came from the wilderness.