Agreed. I pulled that move whilst mafia many moons agoOr that's what you want us to think
Agreed. I pulled that move whilst mafia many moons agoOr that's what you want us to think
Farnsy was known for two things - his hot offspring he produced and being a huge junkie. Unfortunately, the town had enough of trying to fix Farnsy from getting his fix, and felt it was best just to cut him loose.
Farnsy was Mary, a regular innocent and a bonafide hot mom druggie.
Asked how he liked being active in a mafia game for the first time in 7 years, Farnsy responded:
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Oh... this show has a laugh track. Should have known with Kutcher being involved.
Is accusing the mayor of lying ground for getting clapped?Also, just so everyone knows, I'm not bragging, I am NOT bragging.
I dated Elisha Cuthbert for a few months.
I am NOT lying.
Is accusing the mayor of lying ground for getting clapped?
Lol I just read that! That’s hilarious.One hell of a site you went to for that.
there's as many posts in an hour on MU that there is on this thread today. RIPThe recipe is as follows:
Give them something with some SOUL.
~*~
Dear Cyclone Fanatic,
I bought you a flower today. Not to keep you, or to tell you to be mine, but so that you may watch it wilt and die, the last petal perishing with my final thoughts of you.
So hold still that breath of trouble and toil, as we burn the midnight oil, and find undue reasons to come back to each other, lights flickering on our faces as our fingers tap our screens messaging one another.
The flirtatious exchange reminds me of that night where the splattering raindrops against my umbrella sounded like firecrackers popping as we kissed under its enveloping embrace.
Dive into the deep end with the master swimmers they said… you’ll be fine… there’s nothing to worry about.
Meanwhile, thoughts creep to the back of my mind and I remember a good friend saying to me, almost in fated prophecy: “Did you know you can eat lava? Once.”
And oh how that feels reminiscent of this situation now. An incoming paragraph text, with questions about my past and how it affects my integrity. I respond as such:
“I am not the type of man to dwell on the trials and the tribulations of the past, and you could never know them as they were to me, nor am I the type of man to speak of such negativity, and as such you could never know me, as the character of a good man can only be understood by the intuition of that man’s soul mate.”
The response goes over her head, and she paints me with the most unflattering colors as the picturesque model of someone avoiding the reality of the situation. A few well timed insults, and I am growing annoyed at this exchange, and my sarcastic nature begins to show:
“And here I am with no tree in sight yet the heavens have graced with me plentiful shade.”
She is not a fan, even though she is clearly long winded. The barrage continues.
I look to the vase in my room, which still holds that flower, and a petal falls in that moment, masterfully illustrating what I could not bring myself to say. As I lay here on my bed, I search the four corners of my ceiling for enlightenment, scouring my brain for something in response….
I have
Nothing.
Another petal falls.
~*~
Then, you hop back on your bull$#@!.
Hi, my name is CoKane.
I am town.
Town I am.
I am not scum, no, never ever that.
Would scum say that oh yes they probably would
But not CoKane, he is totes lawful good
The speakers turn on and a microphone descends:
Yes, I am number one
You all are number two
That's $#@!, poo poo
Boo hoo, don't cry
Wipe those tears from your eyes
And know that innocent little me will never lie
The recipe is as follows:
Give them something with some SOUL.
~*~
Dear Cyclone Fanatic,
I bought you a flower today. Not to keep you, or to tell you to be mine, but so that you may watch it wilt and die, the last petal perishing with my final thoughts of you.
So hold still that breath of trouble and toil, as we burn the midnight oil, and find undue reasons to come back to each other, lights flickering on our faces as our fingers tap our screens messaging one another.
The flirtatious exchange reminds me of that night where the splattering raindrops against my umbrella sounded like firecrackers popping as we kissed under its enveloping embrace.
Dive into the deep end with the master swimmers they said… you’ll be fine… there’s nothing to worry about.
Meanwhile, thoughts creep to the back of my mind and I remember a good friend saying to me, almost in fated prophecy: “Did you know you can eat lava? Once.”
And oh how that feels reminiscent of this situation now. An incoming paragraph text, with questions about my past and how it affects my integrity. I respond as such:
“I am not the type of man to dwell on the trials and the tribulations of the past, and you could never know them as they were to me, nor am I the type of man to speak of such negativity, and as such you could never know me, as the character of a good man can only be understood by the intuition of that man’s soul mate.”
The response goes over her head, and she paints me with the most unflattering colors as the picturesque model of someone avoiding the reality of the situation. A few well timed insults, and I am growing annoyed at this exchange, and my sarcastic nature begins to show:
“And here I am with no tree in sight yet the heavens have graced with me plentiful shade.”
She is not a fan, even though she is clearly long winded. The barrage continues.
I look to the vase in my room, which still holds that flower, and a petal falls in that moment, masterfully illustrating what I could not bring myself to say. As I lay here on my bed, I search the four corners of my ceiling for enlightenment, scouring my brain for something in response….
I have
Nothing.
Another petal falls.
~*~
Then, you hop back on your bull$#@!.
Hi, my name is CoKane.
I am town.
Town I am.
I am not scum, no, never ever that.
Would scum say that oh yes they probably would
But not CoKane, he is totes lawful good
The speakers turn on and a microphone descends:
Yes, I am number one
You all are number two
That's $#@!, poo poo
Boo hoo, don't cry
Wipe those tears from your eyes
And know that innocent little me will never lie
tldr: vote cokaneThe recipe is as follows:
Give them something with some SOUL.
~*~
Dear Cyclone Fanatic,
I bought you a flower today. Not to keep you, or to tell you to be mine, but so that you may watch it wilt and die, the last petal perishing with my final thoughts of you.
So hold still that breath of trouble and toil, as we burn the midnight oil, and find undue reasons to come back to each other, lights flickering on our faces as our fingers tap our screens messaging one another.
The flirtatious exchange reminds me of that night where the splattering raindrops against my umbrella sounded like firecrackers popping as we kissed under its enveloping embrace.
Dive into the deep end with the master swimmers they said… you’ll be fine… there’s nothing to worry about.
Meanwhile, thoughts creep to the back of my mind and I remember a good friend saying to me, almost in fated prophecy: “Did you know you can eat lava? Once.”
And oh how that feels reminiscent of this situation now. An incoming paragraph text, with questions about my past and how it affects my integrity. I respond as such:
“I am not the type of man to dwell on the trials and the tribulations of the past, and you could never know them as they were to me, nor am I the type of man to speak of such negativity, and as such you could never know me, as the character of a good man can only be understood by the intuition of that man’s soul mate.”
The response goes over her head, and she paints me with the most unflattering colors as the picturesque model of someone avoiding the reality of the situation. A few well timed insults, and I am growing annoyed at this exchange, and my sarcastic nature begins to show:
“And here I am with no tree in sight yet the heavens have graced with me plentiful shade.”
She is not a fan, even though she is clearly long winded. The barrage continues.
I look to the vase in my room, which still holds that flower, and a petal falls in that moment, masterfully illustrating what I could not bring myself to say. As I lay here on my bed, I search the four corners of my ceiling for enlightenment, scouring my brain for something in response….
I have
Nothing.
Another petal falls.
~*~
Then, you hop back on your bull$#@!.
Hi, my name is CoKane.
I am town.
Town I am.
I am not scum, no, never ever that.
Would scum say that oh yes they probably would
But not CoKane, he is totes lawful good
The speakers turn on and a microphone descends:
Yes, I am number one
You all are number two
That's $#@!, poo poo
Boo hoo, don't cry
Wipe those tears from your eyes
And know that innocent little me will never lie
Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.........The recipe is as follows:
Give them something with some SOUL.
~*~
Dear Cyclone Fanatic,
I bought you a flower today. Not to keep you, or to tell you to be mine, but so that you may watch it wilt and die, the last petal perishing with my final thoughts of you.
So hold still that breath of trouble and toil, as we burn the midnight oil, and find undue reasons to come back to each other, lights flickering on our faces as our fingers tap our screens messaging one another.
The flirtatious exchange reminds me of that night where the splattering raindrops against my umbrella sounded like firecrackers popping as we kissed under its enveloping embrace.
Dive into the deep end with the master swimmers they said… you’ll be fine… there’s nothing to worry about.
Meanwhile, thoughts creep to the back of my mind and I remember a good friend saying to me, almost in fated prophecy: “Did you know you can eat lava? Once.”
And oh how that feels reminiscent of this situation now. An incoming paragraph text, with questions about my past and how it affects my integrity. I respond as such:
“I am not the type of man to dwell on the trials and the tribulations of the past, and you could never know them as they were to me, nor am I the type of man to speak of such negativity, and as such you could never know me, as the character of a good man can only be understood by the intuition of that man’s soul mate.”
The response goes over her head, and she paints me with the most unflattering colors as the picturesque model of someone avoiding the reality of the situation. A few well timed insults, and I am growing annoyed at this exchange, and my sarcastic nature begins to show:
“And here I am with no tree in sight yet the heavens have graced with me plentiful shade.”
She is not a fan, even though she is clearly long winded. The barrage continues.
I look to the vase in my room, which still holds that flower, and a petal falls in that moment, masterfully illustrating what I could not bring myself to say. As I lay here on my bed, I search the four corners of my ceiling for enlightenment, scouring my brain for something in response….
I have
Nothing.
Another petal falls.
~*~
Then, you hop back on your bull$#@!.
Hi, my name is CoKane.
I am town.
Town I am.
I am not scum, no, never ever that.
Would scum say that oh yes they probably would
But not CoKane, he is totes lawful good
The speakers turn on and a microphone descends:
Yes, I am number one
You all are number two
That's $#@!, poo poo
Boo hoo, don't cry
Wipe those tears from your eyes
And know that innocent little me will never lie
I just read through that and it looks awful to participate in. Good luck $Side note not related to this game. @Cy$ MafiaUniverse game is active and thanks to his first post within the first hour, the entire website now knows we’re all awful at mafia according to them.