Sas vrika ki egw....oxi oxi oxi den erxomai ap'to vietnam....Oute gw kserw apo pou erxomai....Tespa,DEATH DEATH DEATH,life...
Sas vrika ki egw....oxi oxi oxi den erxomai ap'to vietnam....Oute gw kserw apo pou erxomai....Tespa,DEATH DEATH DEATH,life...
... get off my case motherfucker ...
άμα ερχόσουν απτο βιετνάμ μάλλον θα ήσουν ήδη DEAD, DEAD, DEAD.
hmmm... se poia camera koitaw? ....... a! geia!
stone
stoner
stonest
hailz all
Life is just one crushing defeat after another...
Ek meroys ths organwshs G.I.A.T.I. ? (Geniko Idryma Anwmalwn Tapsiwn Imam) me esteilan 2 fores.
Apetyxa na skotwsw prwta th Sara Konor,meta to tsoglani ths.
Twra exoyme kainoyrio sxedio.
(twra mama,teleiwnw me to kompioyter kai erxomai na faw.)
"Τι χτυπαω??"
"Ενα μονο με ελιες. Και ενα μονο με πατατες."
oeeeeeeee
ena me elies.
a monkey in silk is a monkey no less
pros ta newbies
fygete apo dw oso einai kairos
ok... egw ekana hdh merika post... kai twra eida to "welcome" topic
kalio arga...
ermm... 2metrh, 3anthia, paw gumnasthrio, latreuw to Saki kai otan megalwsw thelw na ginw super model.
Euxomai se olous ugeia, agaph kai oxi pia polemoi.
Autaaaaaaaaaaaaa
We cross our bridges when we come to them and burn them behind us, with nothing to show for our progress except a memory of the smell of smoke, and a presumption that once our eyes watered.
Welcome,alla an den eisai 2metrh 3an8ia ton poulo.
"Don't sweat the petty things and don't pet the sweaty things".
George Carlin
Pote!
Egw eftasa ws edw me to "spa8i" mou
We cross our bridges when we come to them and burn them behind us, with nothing to show for our progress except a memory of the smell of smoke, and a presumption that once our eyes watered.
τώρα που είδα ότι είμαστε συντοπίτες welcome!!!
/me τοπικιστής
Rock or Nothing
e, afou latreueis to Saki, welcome.
Where's the booze?
I used to be perfect but now I'm even better
raven lord στο Behind your bushes, the one with the riffle μένεις καισύ;
ναι... το ξέρεις?Originally Posted by Chopped In Half
raven lord στο Behind your bushes, the one with the riffle μένεις καισύ;
Rock or Nothing
We cross our bridges when we come to them and burn them behind us, with nothing to show for our progress except a memory of the smell of smoke, and a presumption that once our eyes watered.
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