pat420
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  • GENDER: Male

    AGE: 39 (Jun 11, 1978)

    LOCATION: Rochester NY

    ABOUT ME: Born on Long Island NY was a really good athelete 5 sports from 4 - 14 got into drugs mom kicked me out too my dads then they got back together

    MY AIM:

    MY WISHLIST:

    MY YAHOO: pboylejr

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    MY WEB SITE:

    MY MYSPACE: http://www.myspace.com/pmb987

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    MY TWITTER: http://twitter.com/ferrall420

    I AM LOOKING FOR: WOMEN

    FOR: Romance;Booty;Friendship

  • OCCUPATION:

    CURRENT CRUSH: Eliza Dushku

    STATS: 6 foot tall 150 lbs green blue eyes

    HEROES: Dad, Jesus ,Jim Morrison

    GETS ME HOT:

    FAVORITE POSITION: Any and all

    FANTASY: True Love

    SIGN: Scorpio

    MOST HUMBLING MOMENT: being in a coma for 4 months

    I LOST MY VIRGINITY: 14 years old, Michelle

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  • Great poem

    Mar 07, 2011

    GUNGA DIN


    You may talk o' gin and beer
    When you're quartered safe out 'ere,
    An' you're sent to penny-fights an' Aldershot it;
    But when it comes to slaughter
    You will do your work on water,
    An' you'll lick the bloomin' boots of 'im that's got it.
    Now in Injia's sunny clime,
    Where I used to spend my time
    A-servin' of 'Er Majesty the Queen,
    Of all them blackfaced crew
    The finest man I knew
    Was our regimental bhisti, Gunga Din.
        He was "Din! Din! Din!
      You limpin' lump o' brick-dust, Gunga Din!
        Hi! slippery ~hitherao~!
        Water, get it!  ~Panee lao~!                 [Bring water swiftly.]
      You squidgy-nosed old idol, Gunga Din."

    The uniform 'e wore
    Was nothin' much before,
    An' rather less than 'arf o' that be'ind,
    For a piece o' twisty rag
    An' a goatskin water-bag
    Was all the field-equipment 'e could find.
    When the sweatin' troop-train lay
    In a sidin' through the day,
    Where the 'eat would make your bloomin' eyebrows crawl,
    We shouted "Harry By!"           [Mr. Atkins's equivalent for "O brother."]
    Till our throats were bricky-dry,
    Then we wopped 'im 'cause 'e couldn't serve us all.
        It was "Din! Din! Din!
      You 'eathen, where the mischief 'ave you been?
        You put some ~juldee~ in it                             [Be quick.]
        Or I'll ~marrow~ you this minute                         [Hit you.]
      If you don't fill up my helmet, Gunga Din!"

    'E would dot an' carry one
    Till the longest day was done;
    An' 'e didn't seem to know the use o' fear.
    If we charged or broke or cut,
    You could bet your bloomin' nut,
    'E'd be waitin' fifty paces right flank rear.
    With 'is ~mussick~ on 'is back,                             [Water-skin.]
    'E would skip with our attack,
    An' watch us till the bugles made "Retire",
    An' for all 'is dirty 'ide
    'E was white, clear white, inside
    When 'e went to tend the wounded under fire!
        It was "Din! Din! Din!"
      With the bullets kickin' dust-spots on the green.
        When the cartridges ran out,
        You could hear the front-files shout,
      "Hi! ammunition-mules an' Gunga Din!"

    I shan't forgit the night
    When I dropped be'ind the fight
    With a bullet where my belt-plate should 'a' been.
    I was chokin' mad with thirst,
    An' the man that spied me first
    Was our good old grinnin', gruntin' Gunga Din.
    'E lifted up my 'ead,
    An' he plugged me where I bled,
    An' 'e guv me 'arf-a-pint o' water-green:
    It was crawlin' and it stunk,
    But of all the drinks I've drunk,
    I'm gratefullest to one from Gunga Din.
        It was "Din! Din! Din!
      'Ere's a beggar with a bullet through 'is spleen;
        'E's chawin' up the ground,
        An' 'e's kickin' all around:
      For Gawd's sake git the water, Gunga Din!"

    'E carried me away
    To where a dooli lay,
    An' a bullet come an' drilled the beggar clean.
    'E put me safe inside,
    An' just before 'e died,
    "I 'ope you liked your drink", sez Gunga Din.
    So I'll meet 'im later on
    At the place where 'e is gone --
    Where it's always double drill and no canteen;
    'E'll be squattin' on the coals
    Givin' drink to poor damned souls,
    An' I'll get a swig in hell from Gunga Din!
        Yes, Din! Din! Din!
      You Lazarushian-leather Gunga Din!
        Though I've belted you and flayed you,
        By the livin' Gawd that made you,
      You're a better man than I am, Gunga Din!

     



  • Special Wine

    Feb 01, 2011

    http://www.dargenziowine.com/

    Randy Rhoads

  • The night b4 Christmass

    Dec 18, 2010

    Twas the night before Christmas - Old Santa was pissed.

    He cussed out the elves and threw down his list.

    Miserable little brats, ungrateful little jerks

    I have a good mind to scrap the whole works.

    I've busted my ass for damn near a year,

    Instead of "Thanks Santa" - what do I hear?

    The old lady bitches cause I work late at night

    The elves want more money - The reindeer all fight.

    Rudolph got drunk and goosed all the maids

    Donner is pregnant and Vixen has AIDS

    And just when I thought that things would get better

    Those assholes from IRS sent me a letter

    They say I owe taxes - if that ain't damn funny

    Who the hell ever sent Santa Clause any money?

    And the kids these days - they all are the pits

    They want the impossible ...Those mean little shits

    I spent a whole year making wagons and sleds

    Assembling dolls...Their arms, legs and heads

    I made a ton of yo yo's - No request for them

    They want computers and robots...they think I'm IBM!

    Flying through the air...dodging the trees

    Falling down chimneys and skinning my knees

    I'm quitting this job...there's just no enjoyment

    I'll sit on my fat ass and draw unemployment

    There's no Christmas this year...now you know the reason

    I found me a blonde.. I'm going SOUTH for the season!

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