I'll PM some stuff



I'll PM some stuff
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👣
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so boots or sandals?
how many shoes have you got?
does one ever need more than three pair?
EHD
. .... -.. .-- ..- .-.. -.. --- .-.. --- --. .. ... -
Just here surfing Guitar Pron ibanez.com wiring diagrams
RG2EX1 w/ SD hot-rodded pickups
RG4EXFM1 w/ Carvin S22j/b + FVN middle
Carvin Belair
Laney GC80A Acoustic Amp (a gift from Guitar Player Mag)
GNX3000 (yea I'm a modeler)



Boots. Sandals are for women, ******bag tourists and messiahs. Sandals and socks simaltaneously should be grounds for immediate execution.
Nine, actually. Four pairs and a random old ripped Converse. No idea where the other one is.
Probably not, but if wives can't spend money on shoes then it's gonna be a lot harder to convince them to let us spend money on gear, right?
...
^^^Ya see that? I just made a joke about something I have no experience with at all. This internet thing's easy.
Every love that made me lose my reasoning. Every chord that made my conscience ache. Every day spent counting hours. Well, none of them comes close to singing back a song inside my head.
I remember calloused hands and paint-stained jeans, and I remember safe-as-houses self-belief.



In the way of all wells that erupt and spew noxious gases and flammable, toxic liquids all over your delicate ecosystem, it's now time for this ***** to be capped until someone can figure out how to tap it, exploit it for profit and then probably blow it up and kill a whole bunch of cute little ducks and fish and ****.
Cheers to Redmist for giving me the chance to bore you all with my anecdotes and pointless stories and thanks to everyone who took part. It was both fun and a nice way to kill a decent portion of my boring week. Here's to you, me boyos!
Up next is the dude with the unusually large dishes, the one...the only...Mr. Ehdwuld. He's a cool guy who's ****ing hilarious so everyone should ask him some awesome questions.
So, I'll leave you with these final words of wisdom: Beat your wife, not your meat.
I'm the **** outta here.
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Last edited by Kam; 11-28-2010 at 07:46 AM.
Every love that made me lose my reasoning. Every chord that made my conscience ache. Every day spent counting hours. Well, none of them comes close to singing back a song inside my head.
I remember calloused hands and paint-stained jeans, and I remember safe-as-houses self-belief.