Its Just That Lurchaman, KP, and K-B-U-D (R.I.P) @yoenisthemenace - Tumblr Blog

Help me ID this model or source these pics for me PLEASE I know I've seen these pictures before I just cannot remember when or where or who she is and I'd very much like to know

#model unknown #latina #cars & trucks #sexy latinas #hot babe #help ID?#who is she?#she's gorgeous

na-020

radicalgraff

"There's no government like no government"

Seen in Las Vegas

yoenisthemenace

I really wanna write this in the next public bathroom i use.

didi-demure

how tall are you?

my nsfw links

yoenisthemenace

6’5”, how tall are YOU??

assyrianjalebi

Megan Fox in Passion Play (2010)

One belief I have about sex—or specifically, partially clothed sex in particular—can be a great time for everyone involved. HOWEVER, it is a rather inefficient way to fuck. Because I’m absolutely convinced that any situation involving people fucking with clothes on could instantaneously be made objectively better and infinitely more enjoyable for everyone involved if they’d just stop for a few seconds to remove every last article of clothing, take a good long look at each other and start to REALLY fuck. No matter how hard you try, it’s just not possible to REALLY with even a sock still on. Girls clothes always look better on your floor than they can on a girl. Cuz no matter how hot the outfit, she’d always look hotter buck ass naked. Sure, it’s pretty hot when your girl is in one of her hottest dresses, without panties and y’all sneak off to the bathroom, undo your zipper, hike up her dress and start to fuck. It’s hot, sure, very her hot, but if it’s the only way you fuck the whole encounter—her dress covering almost every inch of her that it covers normally, save for her ass exposed by the back of her dress that’s been hiked up, to allow them to perform, tho interestingly leaving her remarkably near fully covered, meanwhile he remains even more fully clothed than she, as all he had needed to do to ready himself was undo his zipper to allow them a quicky in the bathroom, but like any time you fuck with clothes on, the clothes not only block your view of your partners body but impair your range of motion which inherently ensures that the quality of the fucking will not be top-tier. Which brings me back to my beginning point. It’s always better to fuck when both of you are 100% clothes-free. Guys: don’t fuck your girl thru the front of your boxers, if you actually no and girls: if you want to fuck him, you’ll take off the oversized ratty shirt of his you like to sleep in and show him you want it so bad you can’t stand even a single article of clothing, and if doesn’t reciprocate the kindness, and tries to fuck you thru his stank ass boxers, tell him the sight of his skivvies dried your pussy out near instantaneously

Rest easy, my sweet baby boy. I love you more than anything and I’m lost and hopeless without you by my side, buddy boy. I can’t wait to see you again, i can’t wait to leave this awful world and join you in a better world I miss you so much

yoenisthemenace

So, back at the end of June, something happened that blew my world to pieces, crushed both my heart & soul simultaneously, and by the time it was over, absolutely broke me. It’s been close to 2 months and while I’m not constantly breaking down into uncontrollable sobs literally any time I’m not face-to-face with somebody (ugly crying and wailing because my heart aches and I’m so devastated I can’t take it while driving to and from work was really unsafe and rather embarrassing, knowing drivers around me could plainly see me blubbering and sobbing), which I guess equates to an improvement on some level, but every day since has felt empty and meaningless and it feels like all that was good in the world evaporated unceremoniously as tho it was the morning fog. I’m so fucking lost and I don’t want to go on, I don’t have any desire to live another day or see another fucking sunrise and as much as I would love to just drop dead and embrace the sweet, sweet void of death, I made up my mind a long time ago I would never kill myself until everybody I loved and/or loved me was gone from my life. But how the fuck can I keep enduring day after miserable day without my best friend, who’s been by my side virtually every single day of the last 15 years of my life? 15 fucking years man. I just turned 29 a few weeks back (a few weeks after I lost my best friend) so we were inseparable for over half my life, and now he’s just… gone. Oh god I can’t fucking believe he’s not here with me anymore I can’t I just can’t it’s not right nothing feels right I miss my boy fuck I miss my boy so fucking much he was the only one who ever got me, who ever really loved me unconditionally. It’s never easy when a dog dies, I’ve had to endure that loss more times than I care to remember, but fuck this pup was DIFFERENT. Before we even adopted him—in what was an amusingly serendipitous moment in time, back during my freshman year of high school—that good, sweet boy made it clear that he was claiming me as his boy, and I was more than happy to accept this pup as my boy. He just naturally followed me around from day one, my parents tried to get him to sleep in their room, in their bed with them but he ALWAYS hopped out, nudged the door open, came running to find me, and hopped up into my bed to curl up with me. If my bed was too high, he’d whine and eventually curl up at the side of my bed if I didn’t hear him and wake up, but usually I would hear him and excitedly help him up into bed so we could curl up and doze off together. For nearly FIFTEEN YEARS, we had that bond, that connection, I loved him more than the vast majority of people in my life and he adored me like no other. I guess I should be grateful to have had that long with him but I just feel robbed. I feel like I should have died with him. It’s not fair that I had to slowly realize—despite my stubborn rejections and desperation for an alternative explanation, something that didn’t signal that his time was running out—that my boy knew it was time to check out. And being that he was my dog, when we took him to the vet—fucking PRAYING to every deity I don’t believe in, offering Satan and every demon imaginable my soul and whatever else I had to give in exchange for good news, or anything that didn’t spell out euthanasia or desperate treatments that would doom his final days to be painful and uncomfortable and scary—once we got that news, I knew I had to be the one to hold him. It had to be ME, nobody else, who cradled my poor, scared, hurting baby boy in my arms as he was surrounded by strange people preparing to inject him with needles full of whatever drugs the vet used. I couldn’t leave him with anyone else in those last moments I had to be with him, because he had EARNED that much from me, if nothing else. He was beyond loyal, he adored me and was always, ALWAYS, a good boy, such a good boy. Always trying to protect me and the family always looking out for intruders or attackers, he had my back like no human being I’ve ever met, so I owed it to him to be right there by his side for his final

yoenisthemenace

Minutes. I was a fucking emotional mess, which isn’t normal, I very VERY rarely cry around others, especially strangers, just because I usually can’t. I’m 15 years, I think maybe 5 people have seen me cry, and all but one was an immediate blood relative. Fuck I hadn’t cried so hard since my Ammie died. I was blubbering and shaking and sobbing uncontrollably just whispering in my sweet Ellis Boy’s ear that it was okay, you’re a good boy Ellis I love you so much it’s all gonna be okay I got you buddy I’m right here I love you so much Ellis boy you’re such a good boy buddy it’s all gonna be okay I love you buddy I’m so fucking sorry I’m so fucking sorry Ellis boy fuck I love you so much so fucking much I’m sorry buddy I’m so so fucking sorry. After the vet told us the news and gave us a moment to make this impossible decision, my mom told me that since he’s my dog, she’d let me decide, but I just stood there silent, hugging my dog while shaking and staring off blankly as tears poured down my face, silent. She presented me with the options, either put him to sleep today, or put him thru a series of unpleasant, stressful and traumatizing tests, where the best possible outcome would be learning he has cancer or kidney failure, and eventually through my silence she suggested “or if this is a decision you’re not capable of making” and I burst out sobbing before she could finish her thought blubbering “I can’t do it I can’t do it I’m not strong enough to make that choice oh god mom I love him so much he’s my boy I can’t do this I can’t” and sobbed on her shoulder in utter despair.

So, after the vet—a close friend of the family—and her assistants had everything set up they offered a suggestion “if you like you can lay him down on this table here” but I just shook my head no fucking way and said “I’m not letting go of him. There’s no fucking way I’m letting go of my dog his last moments alive will be spent in my lap with my arms wrapped around him, hearing my voice as we cuddled up together for the last time. I was at the vet for an hour or so and I spent the entire time ugly crying and sobbing uncontrollably and those final moments with my boy as the drugs took effect and I felt his spirit leave his body… if felt like getting stabbed with a blade made of salt or something like my lungs had collapsed together and my heart imploded I held him a little while longer as I cried harder than I can remember crying before and wailed as I embraced my good boy’s now lifeless body. I laid him down on a table, put my forehead against him for a few seconds, and gave him one last big fat kiss on his forehead, telling him several times that I loved him so much that he was a good boy and I’ll always love him. After a minute I walked out the waiting room quickly because I still couldn’t stop sobbing for even a split-second I just plowed thru the thankfully mostly empty lobby out to the car where I leaned against the back side collapsing against it as I struggled to pull out a cigarette and struggled even harder to light it. Then just sat there, taking long, deep drags off my Newport as I sat in the fetal position sobbing while facing a very busy street just sobbing and muttering to myself. My mom finished up inside then came out to find me, she didn’t care that I was smoking even tho it’s always been a point of contention but she didn’t even seem to notice, she just wrapped her arms around me, rested my head on her shoulder as I sobbed uncontrollably muttering semi-incoherent phrases about my boy my boy oh god I miss him I can’t I can’t oh god Ellis he was the best. She patted my back and hugged me and when I stopped to catch my breath a second she tearfully made sure to tell me “he was the best, he was such a love, always trying to keep us all safe, he loved us so much… but boy did he love you more than anyone or anything. Boy did he love you. Since day one, he just adored you and always wanted to be with you and would always get sad and mopey when you weren’t around. He made it absolutely clear, you were HIS boy, and he was YOUR dog. God he loved you. God I’m gonna miss him” she finished as her voice broke and she joined me in a few tears.

When I got home, it was about 30 minutes until I had to be at work. I just dragged my feet into my room, and fell onto my bed where I curled up and sobbed. I managed to text my friend/boss Shaan that my dog had just died in my arms not 20 minutes ago and that I wasn’t capable of doing anything but lying here sobbing uncontrollably, so there was no chance I could work. To his credit he was more than understanding, he didn’t care about the short notice or anything he just sympathized and did he best to help. I really appreciated that.

Losing my boy, my sweet, silly, not all that smart Little Shit, aka L.S., or Ellis, god that shit changed me on a level I still can’t fully comprehend. I’m no longer the person I was 2 months ago, and the hardest thing aside from missing my pup every moment of every day remaining in this god forsaken existence is trying to figure out who I am without my boy, who is this person I’ve been changed into. Nothing seems to matter or interest me anymore. Nothing matters. I’m just going thru the motions. Mindlessly stumbling through work and social situations and whatever. I really don’t know what to do without my boy. I don’t want to live anymore. He was my best friend, no just no bullshit no exaggeration he was the only friend I truly felt I could count on, the only one who always had my back and wanted what was best for me. The only friend still by my side after a decade and a half. Oh god I fucking more my boy I can’t believe he’s gone and I’m still stuck on this god forsaken rock god I shoulda had the vet give me the same drug cocktail she gave him. It was morphine Valium and scopolamine plus some toxic shit and fuck what better way to go out than to be with my Ellis boy as we got shot up with fuckin Morphine and Valium and got to drift off together into that eternal sleep. Fuck I miss my boy every fuckin moment of every fuckin day I’m such a fucking wreck, there’s no putting me back together. I don’t want another dog. I love dogs but I don’t want one anymore. They’re never gonna be up to par with Ellis, the best dog who ever lived. And I just hate living without him and I’m fucking ready to die. This pain doesn’t go away or fade and without my boy nothing will ever be okay or make me truly happy ever again. So I guess I just have to accept it and settle in for what will hopefully be a very brief life of anhedonia and wake up every morning praying that somebody or something does me the kindness of ending my misery with, for example, a single .45 round, or a blunt object across the back of my skull, or some inconceivable 1-in-a-billion cause of death. Fuck I miss that dog. Every moment of every of every damn day, every breath of air in inhale just fills me with with more and more hatred for the world and resentment that I was made to spend even a single day without my baby boy.

So, back at the end of June, something happened that blew my world to pieces, crushed both my heart & soul simultaneously, and by the time it was over, absolutely broke me. It’s been close to 2 months and while I’m not constantly breaking down into uncontrollable sobs literally any time I’m not face-to-face with somebody (ugly crying and wailing because my heart aches and I’m so devastated I can’t take it while driving to and from work was really unsafe and rather embarrassing, knowing drivers around me could plainly see me blubbering and sobbing), which I guess equates to an improvement on some level, but every day since has felt empty and meaningless and it feels like all that was good in the world evaporated unceremoniously as tho it was the morning fog. I’m so fucking lost and I don’t want to go on, I don’t have any desire to live another day or see another fucking sunrise and as much as I would love to just drop dead and embrace the sweet, sweet void of death, I made up my mind a long time ago I would never kill myself until everybody I loved and/or loved me was gone from my life. But how the fuck can I keep enduring day after miserable day without my best friend, who’s been by my side virtually every single day of the last 15 years of my life? 15 fucking years man. I just turned 29 a few weeks back (a few weeks after I lost my best friend) so we were inseparable for over half my life, and now he’s just… gone. Oh god I can’t fucking believe he’s not here with me anymore I can’t I just can’t it’s not right nothing feels right I miss my boy fuck I miss my boy so fucking much he was the only one who ever got me, who ever really loved me unconditionally. It’s never easy when a dog dies, I’ve had to endure that loss more times than I care to remember, but fuck this pup was DIFFERENT. Before we even adopted him—in what was an amusingly serendipitous moment in time, back during my freshman year of high school—that good, sweet boy made it clear that he was claiming me as his boy, and I was more than happy to accept this pup as my boy. He just naturally followed me around from day one, my parents tried to get him to sleep in their room, in their bed with them but he ALWAYS hopped out, nudged the door open, came running to find me, and hopped up into my bed to curl up with me. If my bed was too high, he’d whine and eventually curl up at the side of my bed if I didn’t hear him and wake up, but usually I would hear him and excitedly help him up into bed so we could curl up and doze off together. For nearly FIFTEEN YEARS, we had that bond, that connection, I loved him more than the vast majority of people in my life and he adored me like no other. I guess I should be grateful to have had that long with him but I just feel robbed. I feel like I should have died with him. It’s not fair that I had to slowly realize—despite my stubborn rejections and desperation for an alternative explanation, something that didn’t signal that his time was running out—that my boy knew it was time to check out. And being that he was my dog, when we took him to the vet—fucking PRAYING to every deity I don’t believe in, offering Satan and every demon imaginable my soul and whatever else I had to give in exchange for good news, or anything that didn’t spell out euthanasia or desperate treatments that would doom his final days to be painful and uncomfortable and scary—once we got that news, I knew I had to be the one to hold him. It had to be ME, nobody else, who cradled my poor, scared, hurting baby boy in my arms as he was surrounded by strange people preparing to inject him with needles full of whatever drugs the vet used. I couldn’t leave him with anyone else in those last moments I had to be with him, because he had EARNED that much from me, if nothing else. He was beyond loyal, he adored me and was always, ALWAYS, a good boy, such a good boy. Always trying to protect me and the family always looking out for intruders or attackers, he had my back like no human being I’ve ever met, so I owed it to him to be right there by his side for his final

I’m so fucking mad, it’s like my #1 fantasy ever to fuck or get head at an A’s game there is literally nothing sexier than that to me so I’m fucking furious that this grimy lookin motherfucker and his probably equally grimy wifey got to fulfill the dream that I’ve hoped to someday fulfill with the right woman. This is bullshit

So I have decided that in maybe a year or 2, I’m just gonna drop everything, pack my car full of supplies and shit and just fuck off for a good long while. Just explore the US. Maybe spend time in each of the lower 48 states, maybe just go with the flow and chill wherever the road takes me. Kinda hoping by then I’ll have somebody to go with me, but fuck it I’ll spend 6mos—1year/18mos traveling around by myself if I have to, I’m not trippin.

My Kansas Jayhawks are NATIONAL CHAMPIONS!!! I’m over the fucking moon I’m so fucking happy! What a season, from mollywopping Mizzou in the first Border War in over a decade, to doing the same to the 2021 champs, Baylor, to completing the largest half time comeback in Allen Fieldhouse history against K-State—THE DAY AFTER BILL SELF’S FATHER PASSED AWAY. And that’s regular season, not even mentioning tying for the Big 12 Regular season crown and easily winning the Big 12 Conference Tournament, and of course our run through the NCAA tournament, especially the 2nd half vs Miami, getting revenge on Villanova in the Final Four, who had knocked us out of the tournament twice in recent years—once in the Final Four, once in the Elite Eight—both times going on to win the Tournament. Then came the Championship game against UNC, who had just shocked the basketball world by spoiling Coach J’s storybook ending by ending his final season coaching Duke just shy of the ultimate dream. The #8 seed Tar Heels looked destined to upset the #1 seed Jayhawks for the better part of the first 20 minutes, as Kansas played quite possibly their worst half of the entire season, and at half time, it looked incredibly bleak for Kansas, and many people were convinced UNC had already secured their trophy. But Kansas played quite possibly the greatest 20 minutes of basketball I have ever seen, erasing a 40-25 deficit in under 8 minutes, pulling to within a point 46-45 broadsiding UNC with a blistering 20-6 run leaving the Tar Heels shell shocked. Kansas battled tooth and nail the remaining 12 minutes and in doing so, walked away having completed the greatest comeback in NCAA Championship history—erasing a 15 pt halftime lead and coming back from 16 pts down overall, in what will forever be known as a historic come from behind victory on NCAA basketball’s biggest stage.

I’m so fuckin happy I could cry!