Red Mosquito

tree_ wrote:

Ms Harmless wrote:I need to stop coming here, needed to a long time ago but it's an addiction

If you said something atrocious enough, you could be permabanned. And that way you couldn't come back if you tried. The same way Andy Bernard quit The Office to pursue his acting career. He took a shit on his boss's car and that way he couldn't come back if he tried.

JuanHamm wrote:Tree, what's your current facial hair situation?

JuanHamm wrote:

JuanHamm wrote:Tree, what's your current facial hair situation?

Ms Harmless wrote:lol that's strangely encouraging

tree_ wrote:

JuanHamm wrote:

JuanHamm wrote:Tree, what's your current facial hair situation?

strictly chin. enjoying the smoothe face

Jorge wrote:Not to kinkshame (or, I dunno, maybe) but I hate how fucking weird the world has apparently become about feet. My girlfriend posted a totally innocent picture on Instagram where the soles of her bare feet are in view (she is lounging on a couch). One of her sisters commented "Cute #feet" and within minutes she was flooded with DMs from creepy older men who wanted to pay her for custom foot content, or purchase her used socks

Bammer wrote:I am honestly surprised, here.

Burt definitely seems like a foot fetish guy.

Bammer wrote:I am honestly surprised, here.

Burt definitely seems like a foot fetish guy.

BurtReynolds wrote:Feet fetishists can and should be removed from society.

Jorge wrote:I think being weird about feet also includes being all "ewww, feet!!!". Whatever. They're a body part. They can be gross or not gross. I don't want some dude's smelly feet in my vecinity, but I'm also not going to make my girlfriend keep her socks on in bed. Just please be normal

Carl Sandburg wrote: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.