Does exactly what it says on the tin. Some of the nonsense contained herein may be very loosely related to The Sisters of Mercy, but I wouldn't bet your PayPal account on it. In keeping with the internet's general theme nothing written here should be taken as Gospel: over three quarters of it is utter gibberish, and most of the forum's denizens haven't spoken to another human being face-to-face for decades. Don't worry your pretty little heads about it. Above all else, remember this: You don't have to stay forever. I will understand.
You can't sell them! Isn't it de rigeur for gentlemen of a certain age (and ever increasing girth) to wear their leather rock pants way too tight until the gusset explodes at the most inopportune moment?
Followed by a sentimental burial in the vegetable plot in the backgarden.
Loki was never worshiped as the other Gods,
Which is quite understandable.
"And when you start to think about death, you start to think about what's after it. And then you start hoping there is a God. For me, it's a frightening thought to go nowhere".
~ Peter Steele
snowey wrote:Nah, I reckon they're more in this vein:
now they are classy
"And when you start to think about death, you start to think about what's after it. And then you start hoping there is a God. For me, it's a frightening thought to go nowhere".
~ Peter Steele
Mrs. Snowey wrote:Looks like the Neffs have finally re-formed with a new, exciting change of direction
yep, new album available soon Braun Razor
groan
"And when you start to think about death, you start to think about what's after it. And then you start hoping there is a God. For me, it's a frightening thought to go nowhere".
~ Peter Steele
I seriously considered putting a bid on for these Almiche V.
Unfortunately when asked to express a preference, 100% (1 out of 1) of the work colleagues I asked for an opinion, commented that she would never, ever, speak to me again if I bought a pair of leather trousers.
smiscandlon wrote:I seriously considered putting a bid on for these Almiche V.
Unfortunately when asked to express a preference, 100% (1 out of 1) of the work colleagues I asked for an opinion, commented that she would never, ever, speak to me again if I bought a pair of leather trousers.
I'm sorry, but I must bow to peer pressure.
But do they have to know? And what does your heart tell you, deep down?
To not know and to ask a question is a moment of embarrassment; to not know and not ask is a lifetime of shame.
my strides (which I got made and never, ever fitted properly) are buried in the attic, somethings must be
"And when you start to think about death, you start to think about what's after it. And then you start hoping there is a God. For me, it's a frightening thought to go nowhere".
~ Peter Steele