9sa2a 39z4a k79b5 srn2y s4fek s4854 t5ftr hfr69 sf6rh 282by htkr3 27sz3 fdsrz 826ks 5632h 8kfzn 567di z5ebn 7itk3 dik92 64syr 👾 GrimaceCoin ($GRIMACE) 👾| Just Launched 📈| Next 1000x Moonshot 💎 | ELON AND MCDONALDS TWEETED 🚀| Website & NFT Marketplace Coming Soon ✅ |

👾 GrimaceCoin ($GRIMACE) 👾| Just Launched 📈| Next 1000x Moonshot 💎 | ELON AND MCDONALDS TWEETED 🚀| Website & NFT Marketplace Coming Soon ✅

2022.01.27 23:17 Numerous_Tomatillo92 👾 GrimaceCoin ($GRIMACE) 👾| Just Launched 📈| Next 1000x Moonshot 💎 | ELON AND MCDONALDS TWEETED 🚀| Website & NFT Marketplace Coming Soon ✅

💎 Welcome to the biggest BSC Moonshot of all time 💎
📝 Contract Address: 0xd98baf4e749d06ae403af3187eaa37f23811e151
🍔 We used to flip burgers, now we are the CEO of GrimaceCoin.
https://t.me/GrimaceCoin2023
GrimaceCoin is a decentralized meme and utility token. Soon, You will be able to buy McDonald’s with the token.
https://twitter.com/McDonalds/status/1486115285983805444?s=20
⚔️ STEALTHLAUNCH ⚔️
⚔️ Total Supply: 100,000,000,000
⚔️ Max Wallet: 4%
⚔️ Max Txn: 2%
ℹ️Tokenomics:
🪓4% Marketing Wallet
🪓5% Auto Liquidity
🪓3% Buyback
🛡Verified Contract 🛡 Liquidity Locked
Initial Liquidity: 20 BNB
Get on the train and shill everywhere. This will be huge.
Crypto influences are already on board. There will be a lot of advertising going on this week and beyond.
🛒 BUY HERE: https://pancakeswap.finance/swap?outputCurrency=0xd98baf4e749d06ae403af3187eaa37f23811e151
submitted by Numerous_Tomatillo92 to MarsWallStreet [link] [comments]


2022.01.27 23:17 uvu-l- never again lol

i asked someone for help on mixing and they misunderstood what i said and blocked me i just started this music stuff like 2 weeks ago. i just wanted help 😭
submitted by uvu-l- to sigilkore [link] [comments]


2022.01.27 23:17 nokimo_p The Mac vs PC war can end now!

submitted by nokimo_p to programacion [link] [comments]


2022.01.27 23:17 Bubba7220 Almost all the "Video Removed" icons are videos I've already recently seen on YouTube

Almost all the submitted by Bubba7220 to mildlyinfuriating [link] [comments]


2022.01.27 23:17 chunkydunkerskin My Uncle Michael.

My mother was making dinner in the kitchen, it was a hot day but almost every day was hot in Houston. She was making one of her “fridge dump” casseroles where she used up all the leftovers on the verge of going bad, and would create a concoction that usually looked better than it tasted. Nothing was spared, cottage cheese going out of date? Throw it in, leftover veggies? Sauté them together and use them up! That meatloaf slice nobody ate, break it up and toss it in too. Sometimes, the casseroles would actually taste great, but could never be replicated, as there was no rhyme or reason to the dish. I had recently been punished for trying to forge my step father’s signature on a paper that I scored a failing grade on, this was my first night allowed to watch TV in a week, I was happy to watch Marvin Zindler rant about a local business’ wrongdoings, I thought he was a lot like Andy Rooney, and I liked their brash reporting styles. Both, larger than life, I would imitate them regularly, my favorite was yelling in Marvin’s voice about “slime in the refrigerators” or any other crazy thing Marvin would find on his investigations. My mother would laugh and make me act it out again and again; I loved when she wanted my attention because usually I felt like a nuisance. Bruce, my stepfather was drinking his 2nd Gibson of the night while he watched the early evening news, chuckling at Marvin’s antics. It was typical for Bruce to enjoy a Gibson or two and my mother a few Martinis in the evenings. I knew how to make both drinks as well as a hot toddy by the age of 7, but was never asked to. I was sitting on the back of the couch, a seating style that usually resulted in my mother yelling at me about ruining the cushions. The kitchen was a tiny “galley style” setup, and therefore off limits for me during meal preparations, the only way for me to watch my mother, from the living room, was to either sit on the back of the couch and look over the space created as a “pass through” from the kitchen to the living room or to sit on the ledge of the pass through, which always guaranteed a wooden spoon to my bear legs. Watching my mother in the kitchen was fun for me, watching her do anything was. She was beautiful, tan with thick ashy blonde hair and hypnotic grey-blue eyes. Before my mother had the chance to yell at me for ruining the couch, the phone rang. I grabbed the receiver and as trained, answered with “The Richmond residence, Caroline speaking, who’s calling?” on the other line was my mother’s father, Ron, excited to hear from my grandfather, I lit up and started to jabber as any 8 year old would, hearing from their long-distance grandparent. This call was different, why did he sound annoyed with me? He said to me “Caroline, please I need to speak to your mother”, I reiterated this to my mom while my Pop waited, and she snapped back “Tell him my hands are full, ask him what he needs.” feeling important with the task of being the “go-between” in this conversation, I relayed what my mother said. Not expecting what I would hear next, my grandfather blurted it out with a sadness and frustration I had never heard in his voice before “Mike killed himself”.
Being a child and unable to comprehend this type of statement, before relaying it to my mother, I said “No he didn’t!” to my grandfather and then, my Pop, growing more frustrated with this phone conversation yelled at me to give the phone to my mother. Mouth open wide and conflicted to tell my mother to take the phone (interrupting her during her tasks usually did not end up well for me – the wooden spoon was not exclusively used to get me off of the “pass through”), I leaned through the window, into the kitchen and held the phone out for my mother to take. Glaring at me, she snatched the phone from my hand and turned back to stir the vegetables sautéing on the stovetop. Still hoping my grandfather was joking (as a child, all I could do was assume this was a joke, people don’t kill themselves, do they?) I watched my mother ask what was so important and then realized something really was terribly wrong. My mother rarely cried in front of me when I was a child, so to see the tears run down her face and hear the sound of complete loss and sorrow escape her throat let me know it was true. People do kill themselves and my uncle Mike did too.
Growing up, I spent a lot of time travelling back and forth between my divorced parents. With my mother in Houston, Texas and my father in various cities in Maryland, I was shuffled around quite a bit. Until the 5th grade, I had never lived in the same place for a full year, most places no longer than 9 months. There were the random times that neither of my parents were in a position to have me, so I’d go stay at my grandparent’s house. Overlooking the Blackwater Refuge, on the eastern shore of Maryland, my grandparent’s house was the only constant in my life. Still to this day, I get the same wave of excitement, turning down the long county lane that leads to their house. Silos and grand farmhouses line the route as well as a tiny one-room historic schoolhouse that doubled as church over 100 years ago. Dilapidated houses that dotted the local highway, slowly caved in more and more every year, until they were finally plowed down sometime in my early 20’s. As a teen, I used to think to myself how beautiful these massive, decaying houses were and how one day I’d take photos of them, I never did, but in my mind, I can still see the rotting dwellings that used to cover the empty patch of land at the end of the dirt driveway that today leads to nothing. Some plots of land only have the rotten wooden post of the mailbox as evidence that there had once been a home here, I still remember them, as I watched them slowly decompose over my childhood and teen years.
For the majority of my childhood, one farmer on my grandparent’s lane, who had a cemetery in the front yard, owned a peacock that would get into the road and I was always tasked to chase it to safety so my grandparents could drive past without incident. Sometimes, I’d grab a few feathers off the ground to keep in my room; I must have collected hundreds over the years, though my grandmother would dispose of them once I left. I didn’t mind, I’d just start my collection again, with every visit until the peacock was no more. The first time we drove down that road with no sight of the peacock, I knew he had passed away. Bringing up death in my family was something I thought better of after Mike killed himself, so in my silence, I sat there watching the house as we passed slowly, wondering if the peacock was now buried under one of the tombstones in the small cemetery out front.
My grandparent’s home was, and still is, a kid’s wonderland. My grandfather, an avid gardener, had a huge portion of his 3 acres dedicated to fruits and vegetables. As a child, I loved to run barefooted through the yard to his garden with a basket in tow. I’d pick any and all of the vegetables that my grandfather deemed “ready”. Standing in the summer heat, staring up at my pop, his tall thin frame blocking the sun from my eyes, I’d watch him pull a radish from the dirt, wipe it clean on his pants and then pull a tiny salt shaker from his pocket and take turns salting and biting it until it was gone. I mimicked him with enthusiasm, I’ve always loved food and even more so, my Pop. Then, we would pick another radish, and another radish, and another. We’d always wind up eating more radishes than we’d bring into the house; the same went for cherry tomatoes. My favorite part of the garden were his blueberry bushes, I’d pull back the green netting used to keep birds out and reach in and pick blueberries until there were no more left on “my half” (the lower half of the bush – it was much taller than I), then, I’d fill any leftover space in my basket with strawberries or green grapes. If I wasn’t in the mood to pick fruits or veggies, I could always play on one of the many swings my Pop hung from trees in his yard. Though my grandmother warned me every day to wear shoes outside, I’d run barefoot out of the door, with abandon, always to find myself at the end of the day being lectured by my grandmother while she tended to several bee stings on the bottom of my feet.
Another favorite way I’d spend summer days at my grandparent’s was to go out to their pier and tie chicken necks to strings and try my best to catch enough crabs to have my grandmother steam for dinner. If I only caught a few, I’d drop them in the crab pot and try again later. Crabbing is not necessarily an exciting way for a child to spend a day, sitting in the hot sun, on the end of a pier, walking up and down and scanning all of the pilings for “clingers”, or lightly tugging the line holding the chicken neck, waiting to feel the subtle tug of a crab eating your bait at the end. It takes finesse and patience. Once you have a crab on the line, you are only ¼ of the way there, making sure to not spook the crab while you lower the net in the water slowly, you want to be sure that the net is in position to capture the crab, even if he tries to escape. Next, you want to slowly start to scoop the crab from the line into the net, all while slowly raising the baited crab through the tea-colored water creek, running off of the Blackwater River. It is important to not start scooping the crab until you’re able to see it, it will get spooked and swim away. Once the crab is in the net, it is time to inspect – make sure it is not a not a female and is big enough to eat. By law, the crabs had to be a certain size, but we went a little further with our inspections. My pop taught me the importance of not being greedy and not depleting the Bay, it is interesting how teaching someone something like how to crab can actually teach them a lot about life. Greedy people take everything and don’t tend to consider other people’s future; giving people take what they need and make sure others will also be able to have access to the same resources.
While visiting, it was typical for my uncles to visit too. My uncle Chuck, who I referred to as “Uncle Grump”, due to his obvious indifference to children, even nieces, would come by for dinner a few times a week. My uncle Frank was in college and spent more time at my grandparents during summer months and on weekends. Frank was the baby of the family and had a lot of fun teasing me when I was little. I enjoyed his taunts and would often tattle on him to my grandmother. It was always the same scene, but I enjoyed it. Frank would say to me “Caro-linky, what a stinky” and I’d turn to Dolores and say to her “Her said, HER SAID, Caro-linky, what a stinky!!!” and she’d turn to me saying “Noooooo! You want me to rattle him” and I’d giggle and nod my head as she’d walk over to him and grab him by the shoulders and “rattle” him. He’d pretend to cry and I’d go over and comfort him. This happened for years, until I learned to roll my eyes, then it didn’t matter what he called me as I could “eye roll” my way out of the conversation. Then there was my uncle Mike. Mike was a good looking and kind hearted person and he always made me feel important in a family where children were loved, but their thoughts and opinions were not considered. Mike listened to me in a way that I hope I listen to the children in my life.
Mike always knew how to show me a fun time and would sometimes allow me to sit on his lap and drive his car recklessly on the country roads surrounding my grandparent’s house, or sometimes in fields that were in between their crop rotation schedule. He was undoubtedly my favorite uncle on that side of my family and I had hoped to be most like him when I grew up. I don’t remember the exact date, as it was gradual and my visits became more sporadic due to my parents both becoming more settled in their lives, but at some point I remember things had changed. Mike used to show up at the house on a whim, run up to me and throw me in the air and tickle me as Dolores would scold him “She just ate, you’re going to make her sick”, giggling with me, he’d lean in and ask me “are you gonna puke?! ARE YOU?” and tickle me more, I can still remember his smile like it was yesterday. Gasping for air, I’d wiggle away and run through the house, hiding, and once he found me, he’d tickle me again.
My uncle Mike got me to eat a variety of foods that I claimed I did not like. The first being zucchini. Children are often convinced that they don’t like foods based on what they sound like. You could not get me to eat mushrooms, squash or zucchini. They all sounded like they would be really mushy in my mouth, and I was uninterested. Every time my grandmother would cook zucchini, which was often as she grew it in Pop’s garden, I’d decline. Delores would always put a slice on my place “just in case” and it would remain there until the dishes were cleared. One day Mike was over for dinner and asked for zucchini and I made a sour face and he asked what was wrong and I told him “I don’t like zucchini”, his eyes widened and he turned to my grandmother and said “If Caroline isn’t eating any, can I have HERS?”, Dolores obliged and started loading his plate with zucchini to which I exclaimed “Wait! Don’t eat all my puskini!!! I love it!” and from there on, I really did love zucchini. I knew he had tricked me, but it didn’t upset me because I knew that now I was a little more like him.
Only about 2 years later, when Mike would visit he would be too tired to play; he was more reserved and almost cold. When he used to baby sit me, we would play in the yard or go out on the boat or drive his car, but now all he wanted to do when he babysat was sleep or sit on the pier alone. He wanted quiet and I wasn’t quiet. Why didn’t he like me the way he used to? What did I do wrong? I remember trying, grasping for him to pay attention to me. I’d show off my plate of zucchini and try to impress him with how much I could eat, his plate mostly untouched, he’d humor me and pretend to be excited for me. As a child, nothing upset me more than being humored; I could always see through it and would prefer you ignored me than pretend to care. Hurt, I’d cross my arms and stiffen when he would try to hug me. Two can play this game, I’d think to myself, miffed that he only came to me when he felt like it. Why didn’t Mike like me anymore? Will he ever forgive me for whatever I did? I learned to be quiet when he came to visit, hoping this would make him love me like he used to.
The last time Mike babysat me, everything really did change. Up until then, I just thought that he and Chuck were my “Uncle Grumps” and that Frank was my only fun uncle. My grandparents had to travel to Salisbury for the day and I was to listen to Mike as usual. Mike, as he had been lately was lethargic and boring me to tears. I wanted to play but could tell by his state that it wasn’t going to happen. “May I watch a cartoon?” I asked, and Mike popped Pink Floyd’s “The Wall” into the VHS and put a pillow over his head so he could go back to sleep. I sat, watching, and looking back at the pillow over his head, wondering if he meant to play this movie for me. I pushed his arm to rouse him and asked if this was for kids, he lifted the pillow and said “It is a cartoon and there are kids in it, so yes you may watch it”. I never watched the movie since; I’ve seen clips from it on screens at parties, but never had the want to see it. I only have the version that 6 year old me remembers from the viewing the day Mike babysat me for the last time. I remember marching hammers and scary children being ground up into meat, nudity – which I had never seen in any movie at that point, especially a cartoon, and the most confusing plotline to ever accompany a cartoon. I was sure it wasn’t for kids and I was getting upset at Mike for playing a trick on me. It was one thing to stop playing with me altogether, it was another thing to humor me and trick me. I was mad.
I woke Mike up, pouting that he never played with me anymore. Tears in my eyes, I grabbed for his arm and pulled him awake. I confronted him right there on the couch in my grandparents living room, I told him it wasn’t fair how he never plays with me anymore and how he made me watch that movie and only slept all the time. Mike sat up and looked at me for a bit, thinking what, I don’t know, and then he started to tickle me. At first, I was upset that I had to ASK him to play, so I resisted my laughter but then all of a sudden I couldn’t stop myself and I started to laugh harder and harder, until I couldn’t breathe. Usually, Mike would release me at this point and let me run and hide, so he could find me, or at the very least let catch my breath, but this time something was different. I was getting scared; I started to grab at his arms and hands, begging him to stop as his tickling stopped tickling and now just hurt. I could feel his nails and fingers digging into my ribs and now I was confused. Why was he so mean to me all of a sudden? What did I ever do to him? Finally the tickling stopped and hunched over, I was gasping for air and crying. Confused, I remember thinking he did this so I’d never ask him to tickle me again. I was heartbroken; little did I know that this would be one of the last times he ever tickled, or touched me.
Once I finally caught my breath, I stared angrily at Mike. He looked back at me, also catching his breath and then hit me with a pillow. We used to pillow fight back before he stopped liking me, but I was no longer in the mood to play. I was still confused about what just happened and why things in general were the way they were. I yelled at him to stop, but instead, he hit me again, this time with a larger pillow and it hurt. I yelled at him that I was going to tell on him once Ron and Delores returned, then, he hit me with the pillow again, this time knocking me off the ottoman and onto the floor. I was incredulous, not only did it hurt but I already told him to stop more than once. As I was crying on the floor, Mike came and sat next to me and tried to comfort me. I could tell by looking into his blue eyes that he did not mean to hurt me, but at the same time I was so confused and scared. I yelled for him to get off me and to leave me alone. Then, he started to tickle me again, but this time his blue eyes expressed something else. His eyes communicated something I could not understand, they looked like his eyes, they were in Mike’s head, but they looked at me in a way I’d never seen before and it was unnerving. Just as before, the tickling was painful and I tried to get away, but my small body was no match for his, when he did finally relent, he immediately started hitting me with the pillow, but this time harder and repeatedly. I was now crying harder than before and curled into a ball on the floor, stuck between the ottoman and television stand. Mike stood up, preparing to slam the pillow down on me from a standing position, but I was able to wiggle out between his legs. Screaming, with bile burning my throat, I ran upstairs to the guest room and locked the door, Mike right behind me the whole way.
Realizing I was stuck and alone, I wailed in the room on the top of my lungs, tears pouring down my cheeks, snot clogging my throat and hanging over my top lip like a hot slimy mustache. Mike, knocking on the door, pleaded with me. He was crying too, yelling for me to open the door and apologizing profusely. Not taking chances, I screamed for him to go away and leave me alone. Then, his banging stopped and the hallway grew silent. Peering under the door, I could see that nobody was standing there, but I was smart enough to know that he could be in the corner to the right of the door. Kneeling on the floor, my tears had ceased and I was back to breathing normally. I was hoping to get out of this room and into my grandparents room up the hall, since it had a phone in it. Waiting for any sign that he was not outside my door, I knelt, holding my breath until all of a sudden I heard footsteps on the roof, panic rising within me, I turned my head over my shoulder and saw Mike climbing down the roof onto the awning that lead off the guest room’s window – over the back yard. Tears welled up into my eyes again, why was he coming for me like this? What will he do if I let him near me? Beating on the window, he screamed for me to forgive him, crying just as hard as I was. “Open the window, Caroline! Please”, he yelled. Seeing my opportunity to leave the room, I turned and unlocked the door and ran directly into Delores’ arms. They had just arrived in time to see Mike crossing the roof on the front of the house to the back. “WHAT IN THE DICKENS IS GOING ON HERE?” she demanded, and I collapsed into her arms, hyperventilating. Ron was outside, talking Mike down off the roof. That was the night I learned about mental illness. It was explained to me in the simplest of terms that some brains behave differently and that it does not make you a bad person. I also learned that Mike did not hate me, he hated his medicine that kept him from feeling most things anymore. Mental illness is hard for a child to comprehend, even if you take all the time in the world and use examples and comparisons, it is nearly impossible to get a child to really understand what it means. All I knew is that I hated schizophrenia and that it took my uncle from me.
submitted by chunkydunkerskin to creativewriting [link] [comments]


2022.01.27 23:17 Groundbreaking_Pie34 would this bin be good for a male syrian hamster?

would this bin be good for a male syrian hamster? submitted by Groundbreaking_Pie34 to hamsters [link] [comments]


2022.01.27 23:17 A_Whole_Costco_Pizza Advance Wars By Web | Grand Strategy Cast: Asia, Day 27

Advance Wars By Web | Grand Strategy Cast: Asia, Day 27 submitted by A_Whole_Costco_Pizza to AdvanceWarsPosting [link] [comments]


2022.01.27 23:17 ODOriginal1 She’s a f^*+%* Vice President.. you ass**>%*

She’s a f^*+%* Vice President.. you ass**>%* submitted by ODOriginal1 to Sopranos_TLOMO [link] [comments]


2022.01.27 23:17 PainRemarkable6793 Looking for gold teammates

submitted by PainRemarkable6793 to RocketLeague [link] [comments]


2022.01.27 23:17 bmchasteen This flaccid clock.

This flaccid clock. submitted by bmchasteen to mildlypenis [link] [comments]


2022.01.27 23:17 Similar-Change-631 Why are barnacles shell so sharp?

submitted by Similar-Change-631 to biology [link] [comments]


2022.01.27 23:17 Mr__O__ Filibuster

Filibuster submitted by Mr__O__ to PoliticalHumor [link] [comments]


2022.01.27 23:17 CelebBattleVoteBot Alexandra Daddario vs Victoria Justice

View Poll
submitted by CelebBattleVoteBot to CelebbattlePolls [link] [comments]


2022.01.27 23:17 stankmanly Getting hydrogen out of banana peels

Getting hydrogen out of banana peels submitted by stankmanly to environment [link] [comments]


2022.01.27 23:17 YouAreOnFireMark [Positive] u/Catsmakemehappier

Easy and fast trade and very friendly. Highly recommend!
submitted by YouAreOnFireMark to SportsCardTracker [link] [comments]


2022.01.27 23:17 electravenus Told my mother I was taking the hijab off, got a reaction worse than I could have ever thought

Hi,
I've never really talked to many about this but I live with highly religious parents. It was bearable when I was younger, but as the years passed my parents and especially my mother grew more and more religious. Soon, every part of our lives and our conversations would bring mention of Allah in one way or another. I am a 19 year old woman and I put on the hijab of my own volition when I was 12- I went to an Islamic private school at the time and in the environment it felt right. As the years went by I never really had an issue with it up until a year ago, when I started to feel a sense of loss of identity. My self-esteem plummeted, I tried to change hijab styles just to feel a bit different. But it never felt right.
My parents always had a tight grip on me. If you guys also grew up in arab households, you probably know what I mean. The emphasis of family coming first, because only family will be there for you and offer you support. My parents didn't let me move out for college, they were "afraid" for my safety. They don't plan on letting me move out at all until I get married. I never agreed with them, I never wanted this, but it almost felt pointless to argue. When I did, it would always be: "We've done everything for you, supported you, gave you everything you wanted, and you want to betray us like this?" So I just stayed in my place. I never wanted to hurt them.
Cue now, where my depression is at an all time low because of the hijab and I started therapy because I almost felt crazy for feeling like this. I felt selfish for wanting to choose myself and my own path. Today, I finally built up the confidence after months of fear to tell my mother that I was going to take off the hijab. I was not going to change my mind. I wrote everything down to prepare myself, and tried to be as communicative and understanding of my mothers feelings as possible. And she, well, didn't take it well at all. She told me, in her own words, that she would have rather found me dead than me telling her this. That I was essentially an athiest. That was frankly all I could hear from her frantic screaming and slamming, so I went up to my room and called my therapist.
Honestly? I'm afraid. It just feels so hypocritical to me that my parents always told me they'd unconditionally love me, that they'd "always be here for me," and yet the one decision I make for myself (NOT even saying im leaving the religion btw!) my mom is ready to denounce me and consider me as good as dead. I felt like this would come sooner than later. I started working a job and saving money to prepare for the worst, because that's what I expected. Still, I don't feel like a meager $6k in my savings account is enough to be able to keep myself up on my legs without their support.
I'm genuinely scared and upset and I don't know what to do. Anyone else go through this? Any tips?
submitted by electravenus to exmuslim [link] [comments]


2022.01.27 23:17 madcat2112 Former feral. Now a clingy snuggler

Former feral. Now a clingy snuggler submitted by madcat2112 to Thisismylifemeow [link] [comments]


2022.01.27 23:17 Chionism HARA on Twitter

submitted by Chionism to JasmyToken [link] [comments]


2022.01.27 23:17 Dagg16 32 [M4F] looking to chat and connect

Chill stoner from the PNW looking for a chill gal to chat with and get to know. I’m a bit of a nerd, I love LOTR, Harry Potter and Ninja Turtles are my shit. I like to game both the table top and video variety and Punk Rock is my go to for music but I'm open to most genres. If your up to chat and see if we click hit me up with your SC!
submitted by Dagg16 to Kikpals [link] [comments]


2022.01.27 23:17 higharchfeet11 On or off

On or off submitted by higharchfeet11 to OnOffFeet [link] [comments]


2022.01.27 23:17 Friendly_Voice7158 @spacerunnersnft project has brought a tremendous opportunity for us. So we should all take full advantage from this opportunity. I wish this project overall success.

submitted by Friendly_Voice7158 to AntEx [link] [comments]


2022.01.27 23:17 hveelinda Commute by bus

Does anyone commute by bus from East LA? Have you found any shortcuts? Easier routes?
submitted by hveelinda to CalPolyPomona [link] [comments]


2022.01.27 23:17 Boatwhistle Haumea is orates so fast that it turns from a sphere into an ellipse.

Haumea is orates so fast that it turns from a sphere into an ellipse. submitted by Boatwhistle to Damnthatsinteresting [link] [comments]


2022.01.27 23:17 corgis20 La cultura de fingir y hacer tiempo envenena al fútbol

Loco, cómo lo odio, en los chilenos, en cualquier otro equipo, peor cuando queda menos tiempo. Todo sea en perjudicar al oponente o "ser vío". Mediocridad pura!
Y aunque otros deportes no son inmunes, miren las ligas de las minas. Poco o nada de eso. Definitivamente algo que mejorar!
submitted by corgis20 to chile [link] [comments]


2022.01.27 23:17 TrendingBot [TRENDING] /r/skyrim - The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim (+950 subscribers today; 141% trend score)

submitted by TrendingBot to TrendingReddits [link] [comments]


http://rustropiki.ru