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Georgia directory?

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We just have to warn you about one thing. Our ears tend to get a little cold and the best way we found to warm them is with a pair of thighs holding them tight for a couple of hours :p ;)
 
WOW!! A pair of earmuffs for a pair of ears. Now we're wishing winter sticks around a little longer.
 
We gotta run out for a while. we will check back in a little later.

Hope everyone has a great afternoon and as for Bama and DA, Keep those thighs warm for our ears.:D
 
YUMMY !!! I love sweet juicy peaches and nice tight ear warmers!!! :p I can always tell how I am doing by the tight grip on my head, and the sweet flowing juice running down my gootee... *EG*

Hmmm.. OK... yep.. it is getting warm in here now.. LOL

Hope everyone is having a great weekend. I went to go see Miracle yesterday.. it was OK.. I wanted more hockey playing.. but it was good overall.

Naughty,., very nice pic.. and what have you ever decided about lunch?? Or is that just a thought of the past??? LOL

Bama.. how are you doing sweetie?? When are you going to get some vacation and come visit the big city??? *G*

SGA.. always a pleasure... and you know... Atlanta is not that far from ya'll.. and we have some great clubs up here to visit...

Silver.. hope you had a safe trip... I am still debating about the speing carolina get together...not sure if I want to go there by myself...??? Seems everyone on the guest list is some what paired up already...

Jay.. what's up man?? Tell Shannon she owes me an e-mail.. *S* Going home and drinking and falling asleep?? Dude.. we have to get you out on the town !!!

Well, I will check in when I can.. usually the best way to get ahold of me is thru e-mail....

Talk to ya'll soon....

D
 
Waveing~

Waves at....
..........bamagirl.......
..............and...............
.........Dirty-angel
 
Re: Waveing~

My Erotic Tail said:
Waves at....
..........bamagirl.......
..............and...............
.........Dirty-angel
Click to expand...

kisses My Erotic Tail :kiss:


*shows off her signature line just for him*

Thank You:kiss: :heart: :p

now do i look all set?
 
Well hello Gator. What brought you out of the swamp. Don't you kinda feel when the thighs squeeze you so hard it makes your head look like a football you have done it right?:D We may just take you up on Atlanta if you know of a good tour guide.
 
Yea but you know how gators are. They lie around waiting for their pray. Oh, wait, That might just be a good thing. Actually all they want to do is eat you.:D :p
 
I found the best way to eat gator tail is to swallow it whole:D

Hope everyone has a good night. We will catch up with everyone tommorrow.
 
Hi again Dave kisses sweety

gators are the joy of living in the south huh?

I grew up in south central Florida with LOTS of gators :)
 
after you shoot them Jay you suppose to clean and eat them

some good ole gator tail mmmmmmmm
 
I can't take the credit for this one but it is funny as fuck!!!!

<SNIP>
"Now this message is for America's most famous athletes: Someday you may be invited to fly in the back-seat of one of your country's most powerful fighter jets. Many of you already have ... John Elway, John Stockton, Tiger Woods to name a few. If you get this opportunity, let me urge you, with the greatest sincerity...

Move to Guam.
Change your name.
Fake your own death!
Whatever you do ...
Do Not Go!!!

I know. The U.S. Navy invited me to try it. I was thrilled. I was pumped. I was toast! I should've known when they told me my pilot would be Chip (Biff) King of Fighter Squadron 213 at Naval Air Station Oceana in Virginia Beach.

Whatever you're thinking a Top Gun named Chip (Biff) King looks like, triple it. He's about six-foot, tan, ice-blue eyes, wavy surfer hair, finger-crippling handshake -- the kind of man who wrestles dyspeptic alligators in his leisure time. If you see this man, run the other way. Fast.

Biff King was born to fly. His father, Jack King, was for years the voice of NASA missions. ("T-minus 15 seconds and counting ..." Remember?) Chip would charge neighborhood kids a quarter each to hear his dad. Jack would wake up from naps surrounded by nine-year-olds waiting for him to say, "We have a liftoff."

Biff was to fly me in an F-14D Tomcat, a ridiculously powerful $60 million weapon with nearly as much thrust as weight, not unlike Colin Montgomerie. I was worried about getting airsick, so the night before the flight I asked Biff if there was something I should eat the next morning.

"Bananas," he said.

"For the potassium?" I asked.

"No," Biff said, "because they taste about the same coming up as they do going down."

The next morning, out on the tarmac, I had on my flight suit with my name sewn over the left breast. (No call sign -- like Crash or Sticky or Leadfoot .... but, still, very cool.) I carried my helmet in the crook of my arm, as Biff had instructed. If ever in my life I had a chance to nail Nicole Kidman, this was it.

A fighter pilot named Psycho gave me a safety briefing and then fastened me into my ejection seat, which, when employed, would "egress" me out of the plane at such a velocity that I would be immediately knocked unconscious.

Just as I was thinking about aborting the flight, the canopy closed over me, and Biff gave the ground crew a thumbs-up. In minutes we were firing nose up at 600 mph. We leveled out and then canopy-rolled over another F-14.

Those 20 minutes were the rush of my life. Unfortunately, the ride lasted 80.
It was like being on the roller coaster at Six Flags Over Hell. Only without rails. We did barrel rolls, sap rolls, loops, yanks and banks. We dived, rose and dived again, sometimes with a vertical velocity of 10,000 feet per minute. We chased another F-14, and it chased us.

We broke the speed of sound. Sea was sky and sky was sea. Flying at 200 feet we did 90-degree turns at 550 mph, creating a G force of 6.5, which is to say I felt as if 6.5 times my body weight was smashing against me, thereby approximating life as Mrs. Colin Montgomerie.

And I egressed the bananas. I egressed the pizza from the night before.

And the lunch before that. I egressed a box of Milk Duds from the sixth grade. I made Linda Blair look polite. Because of the G's, I was egressing stuff that did not even want to be egressed. I went through not one airsick bag, but two.

Biff said I passed out. Twice. I was coated in sweat. At one point, as we were coming in upside down in a banked curve on a mock bombing target and the G's were flattening me like a tortilla and I was in and out of consciousness, I realized I was the first person in history to throw down.
I used to know cool. Cool was Elway throwing a touchdown pass, or Norman making a five-iron bite. But now I really know cool. Cool is guys like Biff, men with cast-iron stomachs and freon nerves. I wouldn't go up there again for Derek Jeter's black book, but I'm glad Biff does every day, and for less a year than a rookie reliever makes in a home stand.

A week later, when the spins finally stopped, Biff called. He said he and the fighters had the perfect call sign for me. Said he'd send it on a patch for my flight suit.

What is it? I asked.

"Two Bags."

</SNIP>

Spank :D
 
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