Photo Girl Piss Drinking

Photo Girl Piss Drinking
I Really Wish My Friend Hadn't Taken That Photo Of Me then put i

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Look at those poor sods. They don't even have their own helicopter. Let's head over and donate them some caviar.
Feathers: {anc} feather chips {transparent} (shown in "heaven" and "candy")
@ Okinawa Summer Festival [ T A X I ]
Pose: (HUD)SLC SS Pose - On the Beach - 05 [ T A X I ]
Skin: [PinkFuel] Doll V2 Vamp - Scars (ltbrow) [ T A X I ]
White hairpins: tomoto, tumami*sakura JP pin B [ T A X I ]
Eyes: Clemmm - Human Eyes Neon Piss Green -Concave- [ T A X I ]
Lipstick: Clemmm -Blood Lip Blush [ T A X I ]
Red Eye Makeup: violetta. -F Kitsune makeup 01 [ T A X I ]
Eyeliner: Lovely Disarray - Mistress Eyeliners : Angular Fade w/ Lumi [ marketplace ]
Choker: B.C.C Bittersweet Choker - Red F [ T A X I ]
Bangs: booN Mae.003 hair [ T A X I ]
She wasn't afraid of what was happening...she just dint want to be there when it happened..
Culprit Sharkipoo and Friend Great White (Animesh)
(Shown: Tech / Choker / Collar / Crotch / Helmet / Knee Pad / L-Tech / LArm)
.: Vegas :. Tattoo Resurrection 220
(Shown Color version option for Black version) 3 Intensities
Male & Female - Omega / Maitreya / Belleza / Altamura / Signature / Slink / Legacy / BOM Layers
Pix'd @ Beautiful Piss Alley @ Tralalas Diner
Post-Apocalypse living at its finest....
Might not be apparent but it was absolutely pissing it down here, I took the shot tripoded and under an umbrella.
With all the tourists gone, I was able to get a few interesting shots without being shoved away along the Nonbei Yokocho alleyway in Shinjuku. This alley, otherwise known as Piss Alley, is a row of little hole-in-the-wall restaurants.
a boy and his dog on the rocks barefoot where trains pass through....
leaving more dust than there was before.
at times i thought it was torture...
dragging the poor animal by its arm.
This is Patna the capital of Bihar the poorest state in INDIA.
Men pissing in the background, and a million locals staring at me watching every move i made wondering what the hell was i doing there with my machine gun ( NIKON ) & so was I !
HAHAHAH this girl got so drunk she literally pissed her pants!!!!!!!! EWWWWWWW!
800+ sticker produced in the last month
going to people i owe for trades....
Stencil: Oaxaca, Mexico, December 2005
You need to view this with lightbox:
Now I got myself a really nice Hoya "high quality" infrared filter (R72 and made by Tokina, it says) that fits my Heliar 15/4.5 (52mm). You can be taking a leak, hand-holding your M8 with IR filter (not your - never mind), and still take a decent picture such as this. I call this making a good use of your time, sort of like living a double, or twice, or something like that, and at any rate enriching my life while removing toxic waste and spent fuel out of my body.
And I needed this like a new hole in the head.
My great white teeth into your sweet bones.
With an ache in my heart and a thorn in my side,
I got no where to run, no place left to hide.
I got a burning temptation like Clockwork Orange herbicide
Feels like it's raining all the time."
An early-morning walk outside the Edgefield Animal Clinic in Oak Cliff Thursday, February 8, 2007.
Okay, finally got this story to run. Slideshow and video online. Not much ran in the paper. That is the state of our profession. If you can get the video link to work I salute you. it's hit an miss for me.
I posed them for this one !! hahahaha
piss on the american flag,piss on america, piss on congress,piss on the government,oh yea n pis on BUSH!!!!
top Kitty By Beauty Factory Store @ STORE
Iris Boots and Skirt By Meva available @ Kinky
Ma.Vie fashion poses @ MA.VIE poses
Just a table scrap I built today. This kind of build proved to piss me off. It's five studs wide at the wheels, but two studs + SNOT at the base. Oh, well. I did it. Yay me.
La liberté ne s'use que si l'on s'en… cerf
Depuis deux mois, il était seulement un animal en cage…
Les animaux y étaient même mieux traités que les humains, puisqu'ils avaient une autorisation dérogatoire pour aller pisser en ville plusieurs fois par jour !
Pendant le confinement, l'homo sapiens a probablement regretté d'avoir inventé les toilettes !
Cela devrait en tous cas nous faire réfléchir sur cette période surréaliste, et sur la victoire des hygiénistes et des médecins sur l'intelligence et la responsabilité collective !
Continuez de respecter la "distance physique" et l’hygiène élémentaire, masquez-vous lorsque nécessaire, mais oubliez l’expression "distanciation sociale", terme effrayant, crétin et anxiogène, pondu par un technocrate asocial à l’esprit torturé, sans doute un soir de beuverie au Fouquet's, aux frais du contribuable...
Oubliez rapidement le vocabulaire martial, la guerre, l'ennemi, les brigades sanitaires, et tous ces fantasmes politiquement médiévaux et inquiétants qui auront donné à nos dirigeants paniqués et à nos médecins terrorisés l'illusion provisoire et superficielle de devenir de nouveaux Churchill ou de nouveaux Pasteur…
Mais n'est pas Churchill ou Pasteur qui veut !
Attention quand même, car la liberté n'est pas forcément l'exubérance !
La contamination, à l'instar du suicide, devrait être un droit (la sienne, pas celle des autres, sinon ça s'appelle une agression voire un meurtre), mais elle ne doit pas forcément devenir un devoir !..
Dès demain, réapprenez vite à penser par vous-mêmes, et si possible avec science, courage, raison et modération, vertus passées sous silence depuis deux mois par les classes politique, médicale et journalistique…
L'expérience du confinement, où d'autres pensaient pour vous et à votre place, et vous considéraient manifestement comme des enfants immatures (voire des buses ou des gnous, on reste dans l'animalier), était particulièrement désagréable, non ?
Il faudrait en tirer les leçons démocratiques, mais le fera-t-on ?
Presque un relent de dictature non assumée…
Et pourtant, les vrais petits dictateurs en puissance sévissent plutôt habituellement aux deux extrêmes de notre échiquier politique, donc ça aurait pu être bien pire avec les trois ou quatre maniaco-dépressifs professionnels de l'opposition systématique, qui voudraient être califes à la place du calife !
Lorsqu'elles vous enlèvent votre liberté, les dictatures (de droite comme de gauche) vous expliquent toujours que c'est pour votre bien et qu’elles veillent sur vous... Cela commence toujours comme cela... Ne jamais l'oublier (surtout avant de voter, tant que c'est encore possible !)
P.S. Ce matin sur Europe 1, deux grands penseurs qui se sont toujours trompés depuis quarante ans, Alain Minc et Jacques Attali, avaient déjà tout compris à l'après-déconfinement...
Et à midi sur BFM TV, Sibeth Ndiaye, porte-parole du "covide" de la pensée, pérorait à nouveau son autosatisfaction comme aux premiers jours de la crise...
Le nouveau monde n'est visiblement pas pour demain ! :(
Le journal complet du confinement et des chroniques de la guerre :
Mon journal crétin touche à sa fin, et c’est un grand soulagement !
On va enfin pouvoir repenser à des choses sérieuses (j'espère)… Et même à d'autres pas du tout sérieuses, comme la (bonne) photo !
"You're pissing me off, you ugly son of a bitch !"
( 'Evil Ash' by McFarlane Toys / Movie Maniacs Series 4)
I think it pisses God off if you walk by the color purple in a field somewhere and don't notice it.
I did a photo shoot with the Costco flowers. I set them under the dining room light.
Dead Dollz Witchcraft Academy @The Epiphany New!!!
its a saying in these parts of the woods... if the skye looks like this, its gonna be great weather tomorrow - wot a load of crap :) - just to keep u updated!! its pissing it down!!!

You said, “Here, give me the cup. I’ll fill it up when I go to the bathroom, and then we can get going.”
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I will always savor that first real taste of you.
It was a time of formless, adventurous friendship.
It was January. We both had off work for a holiday and wanted an adventure.
Adventures provided the best way for us to hang out, given our respective busy workweeks and generally conflicting schedules.
I don’t count the times I drank a morning cup at your coffee shop or that we lived in the same building.
It was simply a matter of texting in advance, some time in the week, . . . to explore what we might want to do, where we might want to go.
On prior weekends, we had hit almost all of the small towns in Maryland.
This time, we were driving indiscriminately toward Virginia.
No matter what, we could expect some fun from our time together.
(For one thing, we loved wine, bottles and boxes of wine, and drinking by rivers and up on rocks in rugged parts of Maryland and West Virginia. Nature lovers, we could cherish a retreat from the noise and dirty shittiness of the city. Once in West Virginia, off the road, down on rocks and dipping our hands and feet in the water, we had a moment. I adored the surprise. You chewed a corn chip into a mush, whereupon you tackled me suddenly, hovered over me, restraining my arms and coming down on my mouth for . . . a kiss? No, you pushed the gritty mush into my mouth, laughed and joked that you were feeding baby bird. I chewed it up. Swallowed.)
Like most people, we hated driving by DC, and getting out of range of it, we felt we still needed to pass a number of the Virginia exits on the highway.
Then we saw signs for Virginia Beach and decided, why the hell not? It made our trip there a total of about four and a half hours, toward the end of which we drove under some pretty evergreen trees with sandy sun piercing through rhythmically, growing the excitement against the occasional stop-and-go traffic, as we neared the beachtown.
We parked a couple blocks away from the beach by a mini golf place and a Wendy’s. You noticed a number of ICP-looking guys clowning around on bicycles.
The sun was already on its way down. We dashed to the wintry beach and its ocean waves.
Not so brave, we merely dipped our hands in the waves for a minute to feel the sea’s deep iciness bathe our fingers.
I loved being with you on the beach, though it was cold and the wind kept blowing the sand in our faces.
“Want to check out that main street,” you asked, “find something to eat and maybe get some drinks?”
The sun and white clouded sky gave way to beautiful plum and eggplant purples of night, and the moon lit our way. The streetlamps and remaining Christmas decorations did too. There were these two-dimensional wire Christmas displays with lights on them that had still not been taken down from the holiday. We laughed at the horse one, photographed it, and I had you send a picture of it from my phone to my mom.
Tired and hungry, we walked down the main avenue.
“I don’t want to turn around and just go home tonight when we came all the way here,” I said.
“Let’s look into the hotels,” you replied. “You can call out sick tomorrow.”
The Marriott, we should have known, was too expensive, like $120 for a room, and that was after we had embarrassingly dickered with the concierge, citing how it was off-season.
Back on the street, we walked by several bougie older couples enjoying fine dining, cushioned around competing corporate restaurants’ blazing fire pits.
For our part, we stopped in a shitty place and had burritos and margaritas.
We settled on the whimsical Sea Side Hotel. The guy at the front desk kept our price under $50 and, on learning that we were from Baltimore, tried to talk to us about the Ravens, making some joke. We didn’t get it.
We enjoyed the greenhouse-style pool in the center of the building. The water was refreshingly warm, but the air outside nipped us when we needed to grab swimming clothes from the car.
We wore my old things that were in a bag for Goodwill. You wore my ugly boxers. I swam in underwear. We basically jumped in for a minute and got back out. We shivered and froze in our towels on our way to our room.
I fell asleep and you watched Wife Swap.
We had breakfast in the attached ’50s-style diner where Russian waitresses served us bad coffee and pancakes.
Then you helped me think up an excuse for calling out sick. We sat in my car a minute and decided I had a stomach virus.
However, in the course of the day, my boss still called me and needed the business plan, so we had to pull up my work email on your old Palm Pre, and we found the means to appease my boss.
We visited the tacky beach supply store and got a one and a half liter bottle of shit wine and bought a silly Big Gulp-sized, lidded plastic cup adorned with a cartoon surfer guy who looked like Keanu Reeves. At one point we debated buying an inflatable raft to go out to sea. But we feared, despite the unseasonably warm weather that day, that the waves would be choppy and freezing.
We went walking on the beach and tried drinking from our new cup but spilled wine all over our clothes.
Then in Flipper McCoy’s arcade we played hours of skee-ball, earning reams of tickets to buy prizes. We cheated at the crappy basketball game by reaching over to dunk the balls, but it did not give us extra tickets. We posed for our customary photobooth. We played an old Western game where we got to shoot things.
We drank in the arcade and redoubled our efforts at skee-ball.
When turning in our modest bounty of tickets, we decided we wanted the dinosaurs. The fun old guys at the place surprised us with their generosity, saying, “Have as many as you want.”
After that we started drinking heavily, walked up a side street, and ended in a parking lot. We dumped the rest of the bottle in the cup and killed the cup while talking of nihilistic and stupid things.
We found the worst bar on the strip and decided that we would each down a double-shot of bourbon.
At the start of dark we concluded our adventure at a lame Irish sports bar. We wanted to drink some beers, celebrate one last time, and then hit the road back home. We talked and killed the beers in no time. The bar scene was old, loud and glued to the televisions.
You said, “Here, give me the cup. I’ll fill it up when I go to the bathroom, and then we can get going.”
When you came back, we started walking to my car and you handed me the cup, saying, “I got something for you.”
Without questioning, I took a sip. Tomato soup. Warm, murky. Not entirely bad tasting.
“It’s your pee!” I exclaimed. “You filled this cup with your piss in the bathroom.”
“Yup! You have to drink the whole thing.”
I don’t know why I felt like accepting the challenge, but I did, and it was interesting, to say the least. I took a big gulp this time and got that down. Then I put it in the cup holder of my car and started driving.
“Drink more of it or I’m going to be upset,” you taunted.
So there I was drinking your pee while driving. And damn if I didn’t weirdly like it. I kept telling myself it was fresh and probably healthy. It was not too salty. You could still taste the water in it.
At first, it seemed really doable. Just tomato liquid. I drank most of it over the next couple hours of driving.
I was grinning and smiling to you, saying, “Look, I’m drinking pee.” This is fun, I thought, I love being with you and drinking your pee from this Keanu Reeves cup.
By the time we were almost home, I was taking tinier sips and starting to gag on it. It had grown cold, which made it worse to drink. I did not finish the last quarter of it.
It was remarkable, however. Thanks.
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