The old gray mare, she ain't what she used to be.

Discuss.

:shrug:

it's a serious endeavor to pick up ANYTHING lower than waist level.

*sigh*

the closer the floor gets to your tits, navel and ass. :evilgrin:

fortunately, I'm not that old yet. Just heard about it from my elders.

Because I don't remember the rest of the lyrics.

:shrug:

seriously - we want details. Was this a fetish you were trying to fulfill. Must I notify John Coryn, Rick Santorum and the Fristian Fundmentalists about Man-Pig love?

Does this picture turn you on?

:wow:

...give me some whoisalhedges lovin'

You are correct then, she ain't what she used to be.

is to be not what you used to be.

don't ride the white horse.

"On an evening in the latter part of May a middle-aged man was walking homeward from Shaston to the village of Marlott, in the adjoining Vale of Blakemore or Blackmoor. The pair of legs that carried him were rickety, and there was a bias in his gait which inclined him somewhat to the left of a straight line. He occasionally gave a smart nod, as if in confirmation of some opinion, though he was not thinking of anything in particular. An empty egg-basket was slung upon his arm, the nap of his hat was ruffled, a patch being quite worn away at its brim where his thumb came in taking it off. Presently he was met by an elderly parson astride on a gray mare, who, as he rode, hummed a wandering tune."

You're the first poster in this thread to make any sense.

What a bunch of pretentious twits we were.

nm

:crazy:

Fuck, I just need to go home and take a nap. VERY little sleep last night.

Thanks,
T

Plus, I was pretty drunk. ;)

Surprised no one got the Simpsons Reference in yet.

:think: