Naughty Blog by butterfly2007The Global Bombers
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NAUGHTY APPLiCATiON 1. Your Name: 2. Age: 3. Favorite position (s)? 4. Do you think I'm hot? 5. Would you have sex with me? 6. lights on or off? 7. Would you have to be drunk? 8. Would you take a shower with me? 9. Have you ever thought about having sex with me? 10. Would you leave after or stay the night? 11. Do you like cuddling afterwards? 12. Condom or skin? 13. Do you give Oral pleasures? 14. Do you like to receive Oral Pleasures? 15. Have sex on the first date? 16. Would you kiss me during sex? 17. Do you think I would be good in bed? 18. Threesome? 19.Anal? 20. How many times would you like to cum? 21. Would you use me as a booty call? 21. Can I use you as a booty call? 22. Do you like foreplay? 23. What is foreplay to you? 24. Can we take pictures of the act? 25. What do you think of phone sex? 26. Will you post this so I can fill it out for you? SEE HOW MANY PEOPLE SEND THiS BACK TO YOU! EVEN iF YOU HAVE A BOYFRiEND OR GiRLFRiEND- REPOST THiS! TiTLE iT "NAUGHTY APPLiCATiON Post a comment
7 Kinds Of Sex Sunday, January 20, 08 10:53 a.m. Seven Kinds Of Sex The Seven Kinds Of Sex The 1st kind of sex is called: Smurf Sex This kind of sex happens when you first meet someone and you both have sex until you are blue in the face. The 2nd kind of sex is called: Kitchen Sex This is when you have been with you partner a short time and you are so horny you will have sex anywhere, even in the kithcen. The 3rd kind of sex is called: Bedroom Sex This is where you have been with your partner for to long. Your sex has gotten routine and you usually have sex in the bedroom. The 4th Kind of sex is called: Hallway Sex This is when you have been with your partner to long. When you pass each other in the hallway you both say screw you. The 5th kind of sex is called: Religious Sex Which means you get Nun in the morning. Nun in the afternoon and Nun at night. The 6th kind of sex is called: Courtroom Sex This is whne you cannot stand your wife any more. She takes you to court and screws you infront of everyone. And last but not least The 7th kind of sex is called: Social Security Sex You get a litle each month - But not enough to live on
2 BOXES FROM ME TO YOU ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Read all the way down... Two Boxes (I hope I get this back. Please keep it going. This has been going since Dec. 1, 2000 ~ please send it on.) God's Boxes I have in my hands two boxes, Which God gave me to hold. He said, 'Put all your sorrows in the black box, And all your joys in the gold.' I heeded His words, and in the two boxes, Both my joys and sorrows I stored, But though the gold became heavier each day, The black was as light as before. With curiosity, I opened the black, I wanted to find out why, And I saw, in the base of the box, a hole, Which my sorrows had fallen out by. I showed the hole to God, and mused, 'I wonder where my sorrows could be!' He smiled a gentle smile and said, 'My child, they're all here with me..' I asked God, why He gave me the boxes, Why the gold and the black with the hole? 'My child, the gold is for you to count your blessings, The black is for you to let go.' We should consider all of our friends a blessing. Send this to a friend today just to let them know you are thinking of them and that they are a joy in your life. A ball is a circle, no beginning, no end. It keeps us together like our Circle of Friends. But the treasure inside for you to see, Is the treasure of friendship you've granted to me. Today I pass the friendship ball to you. Pass it on to someone who is a friend to you... Okay, here goes, instantly when you receive this letter, you should send it to at least 10 people to brighten their day, including the person who sent it to you.
A Truckers Story ~~~~!~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ -If this doesn't light your fire..your wood is wet! I try not to be biased, but I had my doubts about hiring Stevie. His placement counselor assured me that he would be a good, reliable busboy. But I had never had a mentally handicapped employee and wasn't sure I wanted one. I wasn't sure how my customers would react to Stevie. He was short, a little dumpy with the smooth facial features and thick-tongued speech of Downs Syndrome. I wasn't worried about most of my trucker customers because truckers don't generally care who buses tables as long as the meatloaf platter is good and the pies are homemade. The four-wheeler drivers were the ones who concerned me; the mouthy college kids traveling to school; the yuppie snobs who secretly polish their silverware with their napkins for fear of catching some dreaded "truck stop germ" the pairs of white-shirted business men on expense accounts who think every truck stop waitress wants to be flirted with. I knew those people would be uncomfortable around Stev ie so I closely watched him for the first few weeks. I shouldn't have worried. After the first week, Stevie had my staff wrapped around his stubby little finger, and within a month my truck regulars had adopted him as their official truck stop mascot. After that, I really didn't care what the rest of the customers thought of him. He was like a 21-year-old in blue jeans and Nikes, eager to laugh and eager to please, but fierce in his attention to his duties. Every salt and pepper shaker was exactly in its place, not a bread crumb or coffee spill was visible when Stevie got done with the table. Our only problem was persuading him to wait to clean a table until after the customers were finished. He would hover in the backgroun d, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, scanning the dining room until a table was empty. Then he would scurry to the empty table and carefully bus dishes and glasses onto his cart and meticulously wipe the table up with a practiced flourish of his rag. If he thought a customer was watching, his brow would pucker with added concentration. He took pride in doing his job exactly right, and you had to love how hard he tried to please each and every person he met. Over time, we learned that he lived with his mother, a widow who was disabled after repeated surgeries for cancer. They lived on their Social Security benefits in public housing two miles from the truck stop. Their social worker, who stopped to check on him every so often, admitted they had fallen between the cracks. Money was tight, and what I paid him was probably the difference between them being able to live together and Stevie being sent to a group home. That's why the restaurant was a gloomy place that morning last August, the first morning in three years that Stevie missed work. He was at the Mayo Clinic in Rochester getting a new valve or something put in his heart. His social worker said that people with Downs Syndrome often have heart problems at an early age so this wasn't unexpected, and there was a good chance he would come through the surgery in good shape and be back at work in a few months. A ripple of excitement ran through the staff later that morning when word came that he was out of surgery, in recovery, and doing fine. Frannie, the head waitress, let out a war hoop and did a little dance in the aisle when she heard the good news. Belle Ringer, one of our regular trucker customers, stared at the sight of this 50-year-old grandmother of four doing a victory shimmy beside his table. Frannie blushed, smoothed her apron and shot Belle Ringer a withering look. He grinned. "OK, Frannie, what was that all about?" he asked. "We just got word that Stevie is out of surgery and going to be okay." "I was wondering where he was. I had a new joke to tell him. What was the surgery about?" Frannie quickly told Belle Ringer and the other two drivers sitting at his booth about Stevie's surgery, then sighed: "Yeah, I'm glad he is going to be OK," she said. "But I don't know how he and his Mom are going to handle all the bills. From what I hear, they're barely getting by as it is." Belle Ringer nodded thoughtfully, and Frannie hurried off to wait on the rest of her tables. Since I hadn't had time to round up a busboy to replace Stevie and really didn't want to replace him, the girls were busing their own tables that day until we decided what to do. After the morning rush, Frannie walked into my office. She had a couple of paper napkins in her hand and a funny look on her face. "What's up?" I asked. "I didn't get that table where Belle Ringer and his friends were sitting cleared off after they left, and Pony Pete and Tony Tipper were sitting there when I got back to clean it off," she said. "This was folded and tucked under a coffee cup." She handed the napkin to me, and three $20 bills fell onto my desk whe n I opened it. On the outside, in big, bold letters, was printed "Something for Stevie". "Pony Pete asked me what that was all about," she said, "so I told him about Stevie and his Mom and everything, and Pete looked at Tony and Tony looked at Pete, and they ended up giving me this." She handed me another paper napkin that had "Something For Stevie" scrawled on its outside. Two $50 bills were tucked within its folds. Frannie looked at me with wet, shiny eyes, shook her head and said simply: "truckers." That was three months ago. Today is Thanksgiving, the first day Stevie is supposed to be back to work. His placement worker said he's been counting the days until the doctor said he could work, and it didn't matter at all that it was a holiday. He called 10 times in the past week, making sure we knew he was coming, fearful that we had forgotten him or that his job was in jeopardy. I arranged to have his mother bring him to work. I then met them in the parking lot and invited them both to celebrate his day back. Stevie was thinner and paler, but couldn't stop grinning as he pushed through the doors and headed for the back room where his apron and busing cart were waiting. "Hold up there, Stevie, not so fast," I said. I took him and his mother by their arms. "Work can wait for a minute. To celebrate you coming back, breakfast for you and your mother is on me!" I led them toward a large corner booth at the rear of the room. I could feel and hear the rest of the staff following behind as we marched through the dining room. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw booth after booth of grinning truckers empty and join the procession. We stopped in front of the big table. Its surface was covered with coffee cups, saucers and dinner plates, all sitting slightly crooked on dozens of folded paper napkins. "First thing you have to do, Stevie, is clean up this mess," I said. I tried to sound stern. Stevie looked at me, and then at his mother, then pulled out one of the napkins. It had "Something for Stevie" printed on the outside. As he picked it up, two $10 bills fell onto the table. Stevie stared at the money, then at all the napkins peeking from beneath the tableware, each with his name printed or scrawled on it. I turned to his mother. "There's more than $10,000 in cash and checks on that table, all from truckers and trucking companies that heard about your problems. "Happy Thanksgiving," Well, it got real noisy about that time, with everybody hollering and shouting, and there were a few tears, as well. But you know what's funny? While everybody else was busy shaking hands and hugging each o ther, Stevie, wi th a big, big smile on his face, was busy clearing all the cups and dishes from the table. Best worker I ever hired. Plant a seed and watch it grow. At this point, you can bury this i nspirational message or forward it fulfilling the need! If you shed a tear, hug yourself, because you are a compassionate person. Well... Don't just si t there! Send this story on! Keep it going, this is a good one! AMEN!!!
Please Read and Share: This was also sent to me by a soldier: "A Soldiers Christmas"".... TWAS THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS, HE LIVED ALL ALONE, IN A ONE BEDROOM HOUSE MADE OF PLASTER AND STONE. I HAD COME DOWN THE CHIMNEY WITH PRESENTS TO GIVE, AND TO SEE JUST WHO IN THIS HOME DID LIVE. I LOOKED ALL ABOUT, A STRANGE SIGHT I DID SEE, NO TINSEL, NO PRESENTS, NOT EVEN A TREE. NO STOCKING BY MANTLE, JUST BOOTS FILLED WITH SAND, ON THE WALL HUNG PICTURES OF FAR DISTANT LANDS. WITH MEDALS AND BADGES, AWARDS OF ALL KINDS, A SOBER THOUGHT CAME THROUGH MY MIND. FOR THIS HOUSE WAS DIFFERENT, IT WAS DARK AND DREARY, I FOUND THE HOME OF A SOLDIER, ONCE I COULD SEE CLEARLY. THE SOLDIER LAY SLEEPING, SILENT, ALONE, CURLED UP ON THE FLOOR IN THIS ONE BEDROOM HOME. THE FACE WAS SO GENTLE, THE ROOM IN SUCH DISORDER, NOT HOW I PICTURED A UNITED STATES SOLDIER. WAS THIS THE HERO OF WHOM I 'D JUST READ? CURLED UP ON A PONCHO, THE FLOOR FOR A BED? I REALIZED THE FAMILIES THAT I SAW THIS NIGHT, OWED THEIR LIVES TO THESE SOLDIERS WHO WERE WILLING TO FIGHT. SOON ROUND THE WORLD, THE CHILDREN WOULD PLAY, AND GROWNUPS WOULD CELEBRATE A BRIGHT CHRISTMAS DAY. THEY ALL ENJOYED FREEDOM EACH MONTH OF THE YEAR, BECAUSE OF THE SOLDIERS, LIKE THE ONE LYING HERE. I COULDN'T HELP WONDER HOW MANY LAY ALONE, ON A COLD CHRISTMAS EVE IN A LAND FAR FROM HOME. THE VERY THOUGHT BROUGHT A TEAR TO MY EYE, I DROPPED TO MY KNEES AND STARTED TO CRY. THE SOLDIER AWAKENED AND I HEARD A ROUGH VOICE, "SANTA DON'T CRY, THIS LIFE IS MY CHOICE"; I FIGHT FOR FREEDOM, I DON'T ASK FOR MORE, MY LIFE IS MY GOD, MY COUNTRY, MY HOME." THE SOLDIER ROLLED OVER AND DRIFTED TO SLEEP, I COULDN'T CONTROL IT, I CONTINUED TO WEEP. I KEPT WATCH FOR HOURS, SO SILENT AND STILL AND WE BOTH SHIVERED FROM THE COLD NIGHT'S CHILL. I DIDN'T WANT TO LEAVE ON THAT COLD, DARK, NIGHT, THIS GUARDIAN OF HONOR SO WILLING TO FIGHT. THEN THE SOLDIER ROLLED OVER, WITH A VOICE SOFT AND PURE, WHISPERED, "CARRY ON SANTA, IT'S CHRISTMAS DAY, ALL IS SECURE." ONE LOOK AT MY WATCH, AND I KNEW HE WAS RIGHT. "MERRY CHRISTMAS MY FRIEND, AND TO ALL A GOOD NIGHT." This poem was written by an unnamed Soldier.
Please read: This was sent to me by the soldier at the end of the poem:: "A Different Kind Of Christmas""..... The embers glowed softly, and in their dim light, I gazed round the room and I cherished the sight. My wife was asleep, her head on my chest, My daughter beside me, angelic in rest. Outside the snow fell, a blanket of white, Transforming the yard to a winter delight. The sparkling lights in the tree I believe, Completed the magic that was Christmas Eve. My eyelids were heavy, my breathing was deep, Secure and surrounded by love I would sleep. In perfect contentment, or so it would seem, So I slumbered, perhaps I started to dream. The sound wasn't loud, and it wasn't too near, But I opened my eyes when it tickled my ear. Perhaps just a cough, I didn't quite know, Then the sure sound of footsteps outside in the snow. My soul gave a tremble, I struggled to hear, And I crept to the door just to see who was near. Standing out in the cold and the dark of the night, A lone figure stood, his face weary and tight. A soldier, I puzzled, some twenty years old, Perhaps a Marine, huddled here in the cold. A lone in the dark, he looked up and smiled, Standing watch over me, and my wife and my child. "What are you doing?" I asked without fear, "Come in this moment, it's freezing out here! Put down your pack, brush the snow from your sleeve, You should be at home on a cold Christmas Eve!" For barely a moment I saw his eyes shift, Away from the cold and the snow blown in drifts.. To the window that danced with a warm fire's light Then he sighed and he said "Its really all right, I'm out here by choice. I'm here every night." "It's my duty to stand at the front of the line, That separates you from the darkest of times. No one had to ask or beg or implore me, I'm proud to stand here like my fathers before me. My Gramps died at 'Pearl on a day in December," Then he sighed, "That's a Christmas 'Gram always remembers." My dad stood his watch in the jungles of 'Nam, And now it is my turn and so, here I am. I've not seen my own son in more than a while, But my wife sends me pictures, he's sure got her smile. Then he bent and he carefully pulled from his bag, The red, white, and blue... an American flag. I can live through the cold and the being alone, Away from my family, my house and my home. I can stand at my post through the rain and the sleet, I can sleep in a foxhole with little to eat. I can carry the weight of killing another, Or lay down my life with my sister and brother.. Who stand at the front against any and all, To ensure for all time that this flag will not fall." "So go back inside," he said, "harbor no fright, Your family is waiting and I'll be all right." "But isn't there something I can do, at the least, "Give you money," I asked, "or prepare you a feast? It seems all too little for all that you've done, For being away from your wife and your son." Then his eye welled a tear that held no regret, "Just tell us you love us, and never forget. To fight for our rights back at home while we're gone, To stand your own watch, no matter how long. For when we come home, either standing or dead, To know you remember we fought and we bled. Is payment enough, and with that we will trust, That we mattered to you as you mattered to us." PLEASE, Would you do me the kind favor of sending this to as many people as you can? Christmas will be coming soon and some credit is due to our U.S. service men and women for our being able to celebrate these festivities. Let's try in this small way to pay a tiny bit of what we owe. Make people stop and think of our heroes, living and dead, who sacrificed themselves for us. LCDR Jeff Giles, SC, USN 30th Naval Construction Regiment OIC, Logistics Cell One Al Taqqadum, Iraq
REPLY IN A PRIVATE MESSAGE TO ME WITH YOUR ANSWERS. DONT BE AFRAID. YOU NEVER KNOW WHO WILL REPLY OR WHAT ANSWERS THEY WILL GIVE. EVEN IF YOU HAVE A BOYFRIEND OR GIRLFRIEND OR HUSBAND OR WIFE - REPOST THIS! LET THE FUN BEGIN........ 1.Your Name: 2.Age: 3.Favorite position: 4. Do you think I'm cute? 5. Would you have sex with me? 6. lights on or off? 7. Would you have to be drunk? 8.Would you take a shower with me? 9.Have you ever thought about having sex with me? 10.Would you leave after or stay the night? 11.Do you like cuddling afterwards? 12.Condom or skin? 13.Have sex on the first date? 14.Would you kiss me during sex? 15.Do you think I would be good in bed? 16. Would you use me as a booty call? 17.Can I use you as a booty call? 19.Can we take pictures of the act? 20.How long would we have sex? 21.Would you tell your friends about me? 22.Will you post this so I can fill it out for you? SEE HOW MANY PEOPLE SEND THIS BACK TO YOU! TITLE IT-Naughty Application
""Went to A Party"" Current mood: angry Category: protective Life I WENT TO A PARTY, MOM..... I went to a party, And remembered what you said. You told me not to drink, Mom So I had a Sprite instead. I felt proud of myself, The way you said I would, That I didn't drink and drive, Though some friends said I should. I made a healthy choice, and your advice to me was right, The party finally ended, And the kids drove out of sight. I got into my car, Sure to get home in one piece, I never knew what was coming, Mom Something I expected least. Now I'm lying on the pavement, And I hear the policeman say, The kid that caused this wreck was drunk, Mom, his voice seems far away. My own blood's all around me, As I try hard not to cry. I can hear the paramedic say, This girl is going to die. I'm sure the guy had no idea, While he was flying high, Because he chose to drink and drive, Now I would have to die. So why do people do it, Mom Knowing that it ruins lives? And now the pain is cutting me, Like a hundred stabbing knives. Tell Sister not to be afraid, Mom Tell Daddy to be brave, And when I go to heaven, Put Daddy's Girl on my grave. Someone should have taught him, That it's wrong to drink and drive. Maybe if his parents had, I'd still be alive. My breath is getting shorter, Mom I'm getting really scared. These are my final moments, And I'm so unprepared. I wish that you could hold me Mom, As I lie here and die, and wish that I could tell you, I love you, and goodbye. Before you get behind the wheel of a car think of all the people you are endangering. It is not worth it to take the life of another person because of "Your Stupidity!" This is for all the MOMS out there who have lost a child due to other's actions. My thoughts and prayers are with you all.
"A MARINE'S POEM".. Current mood: sympathetic Category: thankful Life THE MARINE We all came together, Both young and old To fight for our freedom, To stand and be bold. In the midst of all evil, We stand our ground, And we protect our country From all terror around. Peace and not war, Is what some people say. But I'll give my life, So you can live the American way. I give you the right To talk of your peace. To stand in your groups, and protest in our streets. But still I fight on, I don't bitch, I don't whine. I'm just one of the people Who is doing your time. I'm harder than nails, Stronger than any machine. I'm the immortal soldier, I'm a U.S. MARINE! ! So stand in my shoes, And leave from your home. Fight for the people who hate you, With the protests they've shown. Fight for the stranger, Fight for the young. So they all may have, The greatest freedom you've won. Fight for the sick, Fight for the poor Fight for the cripple, Who lives next door. But when your time comes, Do what I've done. For if you stand up for freedom, You'll stand when the fight's done.
Daddy's Poem Daddy's Poem Her hair was up in a pony tail, Her favorite dress tied with a bow. Today was Daddy's Day at school, And she couldn't wait to go. But her mommy tried to tell her, That she probably should stay home. Why the kids might not understand, If she went to school alone. But she was not afraid; She knew just what to say. What to tell her classmates Of why he wasn't there today. But still her mother worried, For her to face this day alone. And that was why once again, She tried to keep her daughter home. But the little girl went to school Eager to tell them all. About a dad she never sees A dad who never calls. There were daddies along the wall in back, For everyone to meet. Children squirming impatiently, Anxious in their seats One by one the teacher called A student from the class. To introduce their daddy, As seconds slowly passed. At last the teacher called her name, Every child turned to stare. Each of them was searching, A man who wasn't there. "Where's her daddy at?" She heard a boy call out. "She probably doesn't have one," Another student dared to shout. And from somewhere near the back, She heard a daddy say, "Looks like another deadbeat dad, Too busy to waste his day." The words did not offend her, As she smiled up at her Mom. And looked back at her teacher, Who told her to go on. And with hands behind her back, Slowly she began to speak. And out from the mouth of a child, Came words incredibly unique. "My Daddy couldn't be here, Because he lives so far away. But I know he wishes he could be, Since this is such a special day. And though you cannot meet him, I wanted you to know. All about my daddy, And how much he loves me so. He loved to tell me stories He taught me to ride my bike. He surprised me with pink roses, And taught me to fly a kite. We used to share fudge sundaes, And ice cream in a cone. And though you cannot see him. I'm not standing here alone. "Cause my daddy's always with me, Even though we are apart I know because he told me, He'll forever be in my heart" With that, her little hand reached up, And lay across her chest. Feeling her own heartbeat, Beneath her favorite dress. And from somewhere here in the crowd of dads, Her mother stood in tears. Proudly watching her daughter, Who was wise beyond her years. For she stood up for the love Of a man not in her life. Doing what was best for her, Doing what was right. And when she dropped her hand back down, Staring straight into the crowd. She finished with a voice so soft, But its message clear and loud. "I love my daddy very much, he's my shining star. And if he could, he'd be here, But heaven's just too far. You see he is a Marine And died just this past year When a roadside bomb hit his convoy And taught Americans to fear. But sometimes when I close my eyes, it's like he never went away." And then she closed her eyes, And saw him there that day. And to her mothers amazement, She witnessed with surprise. A room full of daddies and children, All starting to close their eyes. Who knows what they saw before them, Who knows what they felt inside. Perhaps for merely a second, They saw him at her side. "I know you're with me Daddy," To the silence she called out. And what happened next made believers, Of those once filled with doubt. Not one in that room could explain it, For each of their eyes had been closed. But there on the desk beside her, Was a fragrant long-stemmed pink rose. And a child was blessed, if only for a moment, By the love of her shining star. And given the gift of believing, That heaven is never too far. They say it takes a minute to find a special Person, an hour to appreciate them, A day to love them, but then an entire Life to forget them. Send this to the people you'll never forget and Remember to send it also to the person that sent it to you It's a short message to let them know that you'll never forget them. If you don't send it to anyone, it means you're in a hurry and that you've forgotten your friends. Take the time...to live and love. Until eternity. God bless
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