Racyreecie lady I don’t do the friendzone because I just wanna bone shirt

Racyreecie lady I don’t do the friendzone because I just wanna bone shirt
Fabrizio Quattrocchi, an Italian security officer, taken hostage and murdered in Iraq by Islamist militants. After being forced to dig his own grave and just before being shot in the Racyreecie lady I don’t do the friendzone because I just wanna bone shirt, Fabrizio looked up at his executioners and defiantly said: “Now I will show you how an Italian dies”. I am sure in history there have been more significant moments with very cool lines, but for me, right this very moment, Fabrizio deserves the prize. EDIT: thanks everyone for the upvotes. The reason why I was fascinated by this, is that Italians are not usually seen as warriors or for dying heroically. Stereotypically, we are all artists, lovers with an incurable fondness for string instruments… Fabrizio decided to meet his fate with dignity: his words would have cut deeper in his executioners’ ego than any last minute shovel swing.

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Racyreecie lady I don’t do the friendzone because I just wanna bone shirt

I was hoping Delores wouldn’t become a Racyreecie lady I don’t do the friendzone because I just wanna bone shirt aggressive rooster, as my recently deceased “Lance” had been, before passing on to “rooster heaven” with the assistance of a local coyote. The rooster I currently had, Gordon, was a sweet boy and was very happy to have Lance gone. Lance had been a fierce rooster who attacked literally every moving thing but the hens and me (displaying extreme good taste and discretion) and I was not prepared to live through as second several years of yet another “attack rooster”. Neither were the neighbor dogs. Nor were the neighbors, for that matter. I really didn’t think this would be a problem, as Delores was such a sweet rooster – showing no violence or aggression at all, and just wanted to sit on my shoulder (rather like a parrot) and look around. He’d snuggle against anyone’s neck or in anyone’s lap who would hold him and he adored being petted. Delores ran around digging for bugs in the lawn – but was just as happy sitting by the kitchen sink watching me trim vegetables or whatever. He made (as all my chickens did) a truce with the cats and was friends with the goats, horses and my other rooster, Gordon. They all slept together in the barn at night.

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