Gork@lemm.ee to Lemmy Shitpost@lemmy.world · 8 days agoBroccoli, cheese, and MILFsfiles.catbox.moeexternal-linkmessage-square170fedilinkarrow-up11.15Karrow-down112
arrow-up11.14Karrow-down1external-linkBroccoli, cheese, and MILFsfiles.catbox.moeGork@lemm.ee to Lemmy Shitpost@lemmy.world · 8 days agomessage-square170fedilink
minus-squareWogi@lemmy.worldlinkfedilinkarrow-up38·8 days agoWhat happens at the farmers market stays at the farmers market
minus-squarekrashmo@lemmy.worldlinkfedilinkarrow-up17·8 days agoI’m not kink shaming but if you fuck the broccoli you better not leave it at the farmers market. You take that shit home with you afterwards.
minus-squareIndiBrony@lemmy.worldlinkfedilinkEnglisharrow-up7·8 days agoYou’re damn right. Broccoli mates for life, not just for Christmas.
minus-squareRizzRustbolt@lemmy.worldlinkfedilinkarrow-up16·8 days agoNever was a statement more false than this one.
minus-squareWogi@lemmy.worldlinkfedilinkarrow-up9·8 days agoYour statement creates a paradox. You must sacrifice a partition to Windows or risk Steve Jobs visiting you in the night.
minus-squaredumbass@leminal.spacelinkfedilinkEnglisharrow-up2·8 days agoI’d rather risk Steve jobs visiting me in the night, much safer option.
But, do you love fucking broccoli?
What happens at the farmers market stays at the farmers market
I’m not kink shaming but if you fuck the broccoli you better not leave it at the farmers market. You take that shit home with you afterwards.
You’re damn right. Broccoli mates for life, not just for Christmas.
Never was a statement more false than this one.
Your statement creates a paradox. You must sacrifice a partition to Windows or risk Steve Jobs visiting you in the night.
I’d rather risk Steve jobs visiting me in the night, much safer option.
It was, “I, fucking, love broccoli.”