President Trump signaled Monday that the only way he won’t slap new tariffs on steel and aluminum imports is if a “new and fair” North American Free Trade Agreement is signed. “Tariffs on Steel and Aluminum will only come off if new & fair NAFTA agreement is signed,” Trump tweeted.
Said Trump: “We have large trade deficits with Mexico and Canada. NAFTA, which is under renegotiation right now, has been a bad deal for U.S.A. Massive relocation of companies & jobs.” Trump announced Thursday he plans to institute tariffs on imports of steel and aluminum this week, arguing it will level the playing field for American companies and help them expand after plant closings in recent years. The president said he decided on tariffs of 25 percent for steel and 10 percent for aluminum. AS TARIFF BATTLE HEATS UP, TRUMP SAYS US STEEL, ALUMINUM INDUSTRIES ‘DEAD’ Amid criticism from usual Republican allies, Trump has also rebuffed U.S. allies who have pushed to be exempted from the stiff duties. While his rhetoric has been focused on China, the duties will also cover significant imports from Canada, Mexico, South Korea, Japan and the European Union. The stock market dipped 600 points in the hours following Trump’s announcement, and businesses — including auto and boat manufacturers, the beer industry and machinery companies — were quick to denounce the move.
“Business Roundtable strongly disagrees with today’s announcement because it will hurt the U.S. economy and American companies, workers and consumers by raising prices and resulting in foreign retaliation against U.S. exporters,” Joshua Bolten, president of the influential Business Roundtable, said in a statement. “Also, Canada must treat our farmers much better,” Trump tweeted Monday. “Highly restrictive. Mexico must do much more on stopping drugs from pouring into the U.S. They have not done what needs to be done. Millions of people addicted and dying.” Trump’s protectionist policy will be made official in the next two weeks, White House officials said Sunday, as the administration defended the decision from critics in Washington and overseas. Trump appeared unbowed Sunday, as he tweeted that American “Steel and Aluminum industries are dead. Sorry, it’s time for a change!” During the presidential campaign, Trump promised to renegotiate NAFTA with Canada and Mexico, saying it has killed jobs in the United States. Representatives from the United States, Canada and Mexico are meeting Monday for more NAFTA negotiations. The Associated Press contributed to this report. Alex Pappas is a politics reporter at FoxNews.com. Follow him on Twitter at @AlexPappas. Source: http://allofbeer.com/trump-new-and-fair-nafta-pact-only-way-to-stop-steel-aluminum-tariffs/ from https://allofbeer.wordpress.com/2018/09/27/trump-new-and-fair-nafta-pact-only-way-to-stop-steel-aluminum-tariffs/
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From its first episode in 2002, the HBO TV drama documented the poverty, politics and policing of a city. We visit its memorable locations and talk to the people trying to rebuild scarred communities See more of JM Giordanos photographs of Baltimore locations used in the wire here In black jacket, checked shirt and white trainers, eight-year-old DAngelo Preston is riding his bike while his sister, Alicia, 11, gives chase. They are playing outside the Baltimore Montessori public charter school, where they would be pupils if they had the chance. Their teachers dont yell at them, says Alicia matter-of-factly. Their teachers let them do whatever they want. Alicia aims to be a maths teacher when she grows up; DAngelo wants to be a professional football player. They live barely a minutes walk from the Montessori school but, having lost an enrolment lottery, instead take a daily bus to Dallas F Nicholas elementary school, which has fewer resources. The siblings father, Shawn Preston, 38, a mechanic, says: It has a good reputation and I wish more local kids could go. I tried to send Alicia but they told me it was all filled up. I was disappointed. I thought they could have got her in there somehow: were in the neighbourhood. This is Greenmount West, a community striving to put distance between itself and its portrayal in one of televisions most indelible dramas: The Wire. The Montessori school building was previously home to a beleaguered government school and starred in the fourth and arguably finest season of the show. A nearby design college is still recognisable as where the corner kids hung out. A couple of houses near Prestons were used during filming. Even the name DAngelo strikes a chord as the name of a principal character in the first season. But as the disappointment over school places illustrates, progress is painfully uneven. While some parts of Baltimore are thriving, others have gone into reverse. In 2015, the death of an African American man in police custody triggered widespread unrest, while the total murder rate of 344 was the highest per capita in the citys history. Last year the figure was 318. In 2017 so far (up to 10 May), there have been 124 murders, outstripping Chicago and putting Baltimore on course for its bloodiest year ever. Michael Olesker, an author and former Baltimore Sun columnist, says: Its turf wars. Its a battle for street corners. Youve got 18-year-old kids killing each other. Many are from broken families. Wed like to think art can move the world but this problem is so intractable on so many levels its going to be with us for a long time. This was the world of The Wire and it is still very much intact. From June 2002 to March 2008, the epic HBO series mapped the citys geography, society and soul, charting the never-ending street battle between cops and drug lords. It was a study of the havoc wrought by the drug war on trust between black communities and police. Its hard-boiled realismincluded a scene of four minutes and 40 seconds in which the dialogue between two detectives consists entirely of 31 fucks, four motherfuckers and one fucking-A. Source: http://allofbeer.com/progress-is-painfully-uneven-baltimore-15-years-after-the-wire/ from https://allofbeer.wordpress.com/2018/09/27/progress-is-painfully-uneven-baltimore-15-years-after-the-wire/ While Chinese athletes are over at Rio Olympics chalking up medals, members of a different species were busy setting their own world record back home in China. During the Qingdao Beer Festival in Shandong, which took place on the weekend of July 29, the country put up a dance performance that left many in awe. The dance was performed by 1,007 red and white robots and helped snag China a new Guinness World Record for “Most robots dancing simultaneously.” Image: Chen zhiwei/Imaginechina/ap The identical “QRC-2” robots each stand at 43.8 centimetres tall and were all controlled by a single mobile phone device. The performance was 60 seconds long. Some of the robots were disqualified after falling over or when they stopped dancing before the minute was up. Image: Zhao jianpeng/Imaginechina/ap The robots and performance were produced by Chinese robotics firm Ever Win Company. According to Quan Jinyou, chief technology officer of Ever Win, the biggest challenge the company faced when controlling the robots was radio frequency interference. Image: Chen zhiwei /Imaginechina/ap This performance almost doubles the previous record of 540 dancing robots set earlier this year by another Chinese firm UBTECH Robotics Corp. from https://allofbeer.wordpress.com/2018/09/27/china-dances-their-way-to-a-new-guinness-world-record-with-over-a-thousand-robots/ Substances used to aid muscle-building and weight loss made up more than half of the pharmaceuticals found in the capitals sewers. What does this tell us about modern life? Along with the flushed debris and the thriving bacteria – the wet wipes, condoms, and sanitary towels; the listeria and E coli – that have congealed within the giant fatbergs in the sewers under central London, are chemicals found in banned gym supplements. In fact, they were discovered in greater quantities than drugs such as cocaine and MDMA. In tonight’s Fatberg Autopsy: Secrets of the Sewers, on Channel 4, samples from a giant block were examined to see what it contained. Caused by people pouring cooking oil down the drain – which then congeals with items that should not be flushed, such as wet wipes – fatbergs are an increasing problem for water companies, particularly in urban areas. But the examination of fatbergs’ chemical content also provides a picture of the way we live. The scientists who did the analysis discovered numerous predictable substances, such as paracetamol, prescription medications and substances used in skin creams. But more surprising was the amount of hordenine and ostarine – described by the programme-makers as often being found in gym supplements, which made up more than half of the pharmaceuticals found. “There has been a huge amount of money poured into this sort of research as we’re starting to realise the pharmaceuticals we use have knock-on effects once they reach the aquatic environment,” says Dr John Wilkinson, a researcher at the University of York’s environment department, who works on the Intelligence-led Assessment of Pharmaceuticals in the Environment (iPiE) project and was one of the scientists on the programme. The fatberg acts as a grotesque pull on our attention, but he found far higher concentrations of chemicals in the water around the fatberg. Wilkinson cautions against reading too much into the results, especially where the compounds associated with gym supplements are concerned. “When you put a bucket down into the sewer and bring a few mililitres of water back up, what’s in those few mililitres is not necessarily representative of what’s underneath the whole of London. Because you get a peak for a couple of compounds, I think it’s a bit dangerous if you use that data to draw conclusions on the whole city.” Extensive research would need to be done, he says. Ostarine, which can be used as an alternative to steroids for muscle gain, is on the World Anti-Doping Agency’s prohibited list. Jim McVeigh, the director of Public Health Institute and an expert on the use of steroids and image and performance enhancing drugs (IPEDs), is surprised by the findings. “It is something we’re seeing an increase of and a lot more talk of it on message boards and group chats, [but] it still hasn’t really taken hold that much,” he says. Hordenine is being highlighted in reports as a weight-loss product or sports supplement, but it could have come from a more conventional source. A 2012 study of the analysis of urine collected from portable urinals in central London found more hordenine than anything else – but researchers, while acknowledging it was used as an appetite suppressant, said it was “more likely [to be] present as a breakdown product of beer brewed from barley”. However, it’s also clear that the use and misuse of gym supplements is a growing problem. The chemicals highlighted by the programme are not steroids, but they may – more likely in the case of ostarine – be part of a wider trend for training supplements and steroid abuse. It is thought there are up to 1 million people in the UK who take anabolic steroids and other IPEDs, and a report last year by Public Health Wales found that more than half of users say they take them for aesthetic reasons. Needle exchange units around the UK have also seen a huge increase of steroid users. “Around [a] 400-600% increase [over 10 years],” says Julien Baker, director of research at the University of the West of Scotland’s Institute of Clinical Exercise and Health Sciences. “That is still an underestimate because the people who use the [equipment] may take some for their friends.” Although gym supplements such as ostarine are not injected, this rise may be indicative of a rise across the board. When Baker started looking at the issue of steroid use in around 2004, it was mostly concentrated around “hardcore” weight-training gyms, “particularly in working-class places. But similarly, middle classes are taking steroids as well.” There has also been a noticeable increase in men over 50 “taking testosterone supplementation, which is coinciding with an increase in physical activity in that age group. I think it’s [about] hanging on to their youth.” Of course, steroid use comes with numerous health risks, including high blood pressure, depression, heart problems and even long-term cognitive damage – not to mention the fact that, among anabolic steroid injectors, the prevalence of HIV is as high as it is among heroin users. As for what the fatberg tells us about ourselves – other than that we shouldn’t be putting cooking oil down the sink, or wet wipes down the loo – it is, says Wilkinson, “a reflection of the health and wellbeing of the people who live in London”. But what he found the most interesting, he says, wasn’t the illicit drugs or the chemicals that may or may not have come from sports supplements, but rather “the level of plasticisers – compounds found in plastic cups and water bottles. They have been implicated in the literature as oestrogenic compounds, they can mimic the actions of oestrogens, which have implications for aquatic organisms at very low concentrations.” It’s not just about what we’re putting into our bodies, and excreting out, but the wider effect that the contents of our sewers has on everything else. Source: http://allofbeer.com/why-there-are-more-gym-supplements-in-a-london-fatberg-than-cocaine-and-mdma/ from https://allofbeer.wordpress.com/2018/09/27/why-there-are-more-gym-supplements-in-a-london-fatberg-than-cocaine-and-mdma/
Image: bob self/AP
Activists tried to block Donald Trump with their votes and now theyre trying to do it with their dollars. SEE ALSO: You will be watched by Donald Trump Our favorite stores, the stores that we are the loyal customers of, are profiting directly from a campaign that we consider to be hatefulthat we consider to be on the backs of people of color, of women, and of LGBTQ peopleand its not okay, Coulter explained on MSNBC in October. #GrabYourWallet encourages consumers to boycott businesses who endorsed Trump or currently work with his properties. It also includes mainstream media publications, like People, who have been accused of trying to normalize Trump and his candidacy. While Ivanka Trump has brushed aside the boycotting campaign, it is seeing real impact. According to FastCompany and data sourced from ShopRunner, Ivanka Trumps brand has seen a 54 percent drop in interest, or item views on select online retailers.
#GrabYourWallet is based in a Google Doc, and there are plans to build a website and an app around the list, according to Coulters comments in the #GrabYourWallet Facebook page. Heres an partial list of companies on the Google doc: Companies with leaders that have endorsed Trump
Some major companies that do business with Trump family
It may prove impossible for people to successfully boycott all these companies but energy is high right now, and for many activists, anything is worth trying. BONUS: These are the most shocking quotes to come out of Trumps 60 Minutes interviewSource: http://allofbeer.com/grabyourwallet-encourages-consumers-to-boycott-companies-that-endorse-trump/ from https://allofbeer.wordpress.com/2018/09/27/grabyourwallet-encourages-consumers-to-boycott-companies-that-endorse-trump/ As a child, Caroline van Keeken hated family trips to this sleepy coast. But its now a popular holiday destination and it turns out travelling with her livewire father is terrific fun Twelve years ago, my father bought a holiday home in Zeeland, a coastal province in the southwestern Netherlands. Since then he only ever spends time at home – in Amsterdam – when his plants need watering. According to the latest figures, over half of all tourists visiting the coast of Zeeland are Dutch. As a child, I spent many a holiday here. However, during these brief escapes to Zeeland I always longed to escape back to Amsterdam. I did not know what to do with myself amid the endless, deathly quiet fields of maize, and the locals my age whose dialect I could not understand. Besides, I had secret but no less serious plans to launch an international career as the Dutch Britney Spears, so these seaside holidays did not suit me. And then there was my father. I always preferred to walk a few steps ahead of him so as not to get involved in the random conversations he struck up with complete strangers. Or not to be associated with him when he burst into song or dance, or both. But I’m all grown up now. I get this. Time for two days in Zeeland. Destination: the small village of Waterlandkerkje. The train from Amsterdam Central to Vlissingen takes three hours. The connecting boat to Breskens, across the Westerschelde, 30 minutes. Zeeland is an archipelago of peninsulas, all connected by bridges and tunnels. This southernmost part of Zeeland I am going to is known as Zeeuws-Vlaanderen and borders Belgium. I take the boat. On the aft deck I hear mostly German, but also some English and Flemish. Many of my fellow travellers are families with young children. And there are older couples, too. They are visiting Zeeland for its beautiful beaches, bike rides by the water, and fresh fish. For its peace and quiet, more than anything. But right now, in peak season, calm is not immediately apparent. Tourism is growing in Zeeland. Good news for those renting out holiday homes, such as ones directly on the beach for instance, on Noord-Beveland or Walcheren, and for campsite owners. Not so much for those looking for peace and quiet. Unless you know where you are going. My father is waiting for me: large white cap, sunglasses and waving both arms above his head while calling out my name. On our way to the house, he talks animatedly about his neighbour’s horse, which he found grazing in his garden the previous week. And about a nearby farmer who keeps an eye on his stabled cows via webcam. He’s called Frank, and I should definitely meet him. In the garden, we spend a long time watching a blackbird. “Isn’t it beautiful,” my father says. “It’s lording it over all the other birds.” The neighbours opposite are driving a tractor across the land; they yell something and my father raises his hand. Other than that it’s quiet. “This is nothing like Amsterdam.” It is Wednesday morning and already quite warm when we drive 20 minutes to the beach at Cadzand. But first we stop off in Oostburg for a Zeeuwse bolus pastry at Bakkerij ‘t Bakkertje (“Bakery the Bakery”). They may have missed out on this year’s Best Bolus award, but their pastries are a household name. Baker Tamara Waebeke explains that they are selling some 200 a day this summer. “And it’s just bread dough with cinnamon and sugar.”
Passing vast fields of maize, sugar beet, onions, potatoes and grain on either side, we drive towards the seaside resort. Over the past five years, the locals have witnessed huge changes here. From a sleepy little village by the coast, Cadzand has been transformed into one of the most popular holiday destinations in Zeeuws-Vlaanderen, and now has a few large hotels. The beach is crawling with sandcastle builders, kite flyers, surfers and children covered in ice-cream, straddling the various stages between euphoria and meltdown. “Let’s go.” My father wants to take me to Het Zwin, a nature reserve that crosses into Belgium about a mile down the road. It is a beach plain behind the dunes, and directly connected to the sea. At high tide, sea water enters Het Zwin via a channel. In this secluded spot, nature-lovers armed with binoculars go in search of plants and birds unique to this area. The sandy beach here is in sharp contrast with that of Cadzand. Here there is only a single beach pavilion to be found (
Het Zwin is a place where you can find shark’s teeth on the sand as a result of shifting earth plates and beach replenishment. Today we fail to spot any, but we do see a trio behind a metal detector. André van Es hails from the east of the Netherlands and has been holidaying in Zeeland for 20 years. He is looking for ammunition from bunkers in the dunes that were blown up after the second world war. “This is my way of relaxing,” Van Es explains. “Wonderful”, my father says.Back in the car, we listen to the song
On Thursday we drive to Groede, 15 minutes away. Down narrow country roads we trudge behind slow tractors. The air is thick with the scent of leek. My father thinks he spots Frank, the webcam farmer, in a garage. He parks in front of the door, cups his hands around his mouth and yells into the empty space: “Fraaank!” He keeps this up for several minutes. I nod politely at two passersby. In Groede, we walk around the small village centre, past houses with picturesque facades, and along a street where artisanal workshops from the early 20th century have been renovated. On the square in front of the church we have coffee at
“The Zeeland mussel season will go on a little longer,” the woman at the fishmonger’s smiles mysteriously. Friday morning. Time to go. My father takes me to the boat. He drums his thumbs contentedly on the steering wheel. When is he heading back to Amsterdam? He shrugs and looks dreamily through the windscreen. Not any time soon. • For beach houses try
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Source: http://allofbeer.com/new-zeeland-happy-returns-to-the-netherlands-coast/ from https://allofbeer.wordpress.com/2018/09/26/new-zeeland-happy-returns-to-the-netherlands-coast/
Found on AskReddit.
1. Her false eye popped out and I felt it on my balls.Met girl at rave. Went to cemetery. Getting beej, she deep throated, her false eye I was unaware of came out. Felt it on my balls. Yes. 2. There was a swamp-green streak in her panties that smelled like a fish’s asshole.Was back in high school. Things were getting hot and heavy until I tried taking her pants off. There was a swamp-green streak in her panties that smelled like a fish’s asshole. We didn’t even get to the sex part and I still consider it the worst sex I’ve ever had. It still haunts me to this day. 3. My balls got tickled by her fart.With my now ex-wife. Standard sexy-time up to a point (kissing, boob play, a little oral), then I go to put it in. She farts. I felt it tickle my balls. It tickled my balls, man. You can’t keep going after that. I’m a nurse and not much grosses me out but…My balls got tickled by her fart. 4. I lay there….unspent and sad.Does masturbation count? Im going to tell it anyways. I was having a dry period of about a month. I woke up after a really vivid wet dream and tried to rub it out. I proceeded to slip in and out of consciousness for a good ten minutes, rubbing it until it is hard, falling half asleep for a minute, waking up again, rubbing it again. After those ten minutes, I just gave up. I lay there….unspent and sad. 5. I was gagging the entire time.Was quite drunk and in a miserable period in my life where I’d fuck just about anything. Hooked up with a neighbor’s friend. She had dreads. I was gagging the entire time. Barely managed to finish. Showered for what felt like an eternity after. 6. She shit right in my hand.I pulled out to give myself a break, we were in the doggy position. I started fingering her and she started to orgasm. She shit right in my hand. 7. I threw up on her snatch.I went down on a girl and it smelled exactly like an Arby’s cheddar melt. I threw up on her snatch, and that wasn’t a deal breaker for her. It just made her want it more. She knew I liked it a little rough, from previous conversations, and so she straight up launched herself, puke beef cootchie and all, right onto my face and starts grinding. I was so caught off be-fucking-wildered that I froze, internally screaming this is a bad dream. This has got to be a bad fucking dream. Meanwhile in grind town, the aroma of Arby’s and half-digested oatmeal smeared my face as I finally screamed in horror and ran out. You try getting that out of your beard. 8. She insisted on watching while blowing me.Ended up losing my virginity to my first girlfriend while watching I asked her if we could maybe turn it off, at which point she removed my penis from her mouth and said, But it’s my favorite movie? 9. It was like my penis rolled a sticky tear.I had a pretty sad jerk off the other night. I guess my heart wasn’t into it or something but the run up to the orgasm started fine but then it just became a chore. I kept thinking about other stuff. My arm was getting tired. I farted mid-way through and the smell was a distraction. I start to cum and it immediately got soft and just like seeped out. No energy behind it at all. No happiness or excitement. It was like my penis rolled a sticky tear. Then my dick was like a sad old drunk slumping into a puddle of his own sick. I just sat there all heavy with shame for a few seconds as this gif looping on my monitor that, with the haze of arousal fizzled, was just awkward and weird. All titties being mashed and slapped around like they owed someone money. Then I got a sandwich and played Minecraft. 10. I found out in the most painful way that I was in fact too big for her once her teeth shredded my dick and filled her mouth with blood.Was dating a girl a few years back and after a month of intense make out sessions and heavy petting we decided it was time to take things to the next level. It started off well enough when she pulled out my junk and exclaimed I was the biggest she’d seen, and she was proud of her ability to deep throat and was insistent she could take me on. So without any warm up at all she tries to shove my entire dry dick down her throat and I found out in the most painful way that I was in fact too big for her once her teeth shredded my dick and filled her mouth with blood. We didn’t get to the sex part due to my crying 11. I accidentally told a girl I loved her and proceeded to have awkward coitus.I was once having sex with a girl I’d been dating for a few weeks. I thought she said I love you so I was like Oh I love you too but she actually just said something completely different. She stopped dead and questioned what I’d said, but I just said never mind and carried on. TL;DR I accidentally told a girl I loved her and proceeded to have awkward coitus. 12. She kindly informs me I wasn’t in and was rubbing between her ass cheeks and sheets the whole time.First time I ever did it. I was thrusting hard and doing well, so I thought. Then she kindly informs me I wasn’t in and was rubbing between her ass cheeks and sheets the whole time. I almost came from that. 13. I banged a hoarder in the closet of her smelly apartment. Afterwards she fished an old condom out of her pussy.So, Im at a bar and I start working on a girl. Shes pretty hot. We dance, we drink, we talk. She makes it pretty clear she wants to go back to my place. At one point, she was even joking how its been forever since she’s been laid. Im only in town visiting a friend and crashing on his couch so I insist on going to her place. Initially she resists the idea but I elaborate on the couch thing, plus he lives super far away, he doesnt have a car so I dont know how she would get home, etc., etc. Eventually she caves. She lives walking distance away in a pretty nice apartment building. We go up the elevator and when we get to her front door she warns me that she shares a 1 bedroom apartment with a roommate and that, Its a little bit messy. She opens the door; we go in and Im slapped across the face with the stench of weeks-old garbage and a pile of dishes festering in the sink. I have no idea how someone could live with that smell emanating from their kitchen but perhaps even worse is the whole place looks like an episode of hoarders. Junk is everywhere. It covers every conceivable surface, and is several feet thick in some places with piles of laundry and random items littered across the floor. At this point, a better man would have called it. Thanked her for the lovely evening and taken a very lonely but far more sanitary cab ride back home. But its been a while for me and shes probably the hottest chick Ive ever landed. So instead her and I waded through the piles of garbage to make our way to her bedroom. She leads me to a windowless room that I can only describe as a closet. Its barely large enough for a single mattress, which is placed directly on the floor. We are surrounded on all sides by piles of junk and clothes but Im relieved to be away from the chaos and stink that is her kitchen. We go in and I close the door behind us and we are plunged into blackness. There are no lights in the room. She fumbles around and says Just a second! while she rummages through her purse, takes out her cellphone, activates the flashlight app, and MacGyver’s the worlds saddest desk lamp by propping it up on a pile of dirty clothes. We get down to business. At this point Im so thoroughly disgusted with myself that Im having trouble getting ready for action. Fortunately (or perhaps unfortunately), she sucks dick like a champ and we get things underway. I put on a condom and were off to the races. At this point all I want to do is blow my load and make my escape from this smelly dungeon. Then she stops me: Wait a second I think the condom broke. My heart immediately seizes up and sinks to the pit of my stomach as I consider the possibility of being connected to this hot mess and her garbage dungeon for 18 years. I withdraw and she sticks her finger into her pussy, fishes out a broken condom, and flings it at the wall. As shes rummaging through her trash heap looking for another condom I look down and I notice something. Im still wearing a condom And its totally intact. tl;dr I banged a hoarder in the closet of her smelly apartment. Afterwards she fished an old condom out of her pussy. 14. I projectile-vomited from the realization I had been banging a 15-year-old for a month.This one is sad and I’m disgusted with myself for a reason that will become clear. I was 21 and had been dating this girl who was 18. I met her mother and they were even talking about how they were planning her 19th birthday party and how she couldn’t believe how fast her little girl was growing up and her mom even said her daughter scored big time landing a handsome 21-year-old man yadda yadda. It was weird and felt like I was missing an inside joke. Fast forward a month and lots of pretty good sex. We had left party at a beach house to fuck in my car. She gets sick and vomits at one point, super drunk, but thankfully she managed to vomit outside the car. We keep going at it, or trying to; I was drunk myself and drunk me and erections dont work so well, windows had fogged up and the car was rocking. There’s a sharp knock at the window that I ignored, kept fucking. Then there’s another knock and its insistent. I get angry at this point and yell leave me alone, we are fucking! I thought it was a friend looking for us. Nope. I was met by a blinding light being shown and an obvious cop tone telling us to exit the vehicle. Two cops were outside and asked if we were at the party because they had a noise complaint. Yup. I’m freaking out because she’s clearly wasted and she was only 18. I was 21 so I just knew I would be hit with a charge for supplying alcohol to an underage person. The dreaded question comes up. How old are you? I responded with Im 21 sir, but I haven’t supplied any alcohol to anyone but myself. Cop smirks but looks at my GF and asks her her age. She looks around shyly, albeit drunkenly, and says Fifteen. It took me a moment to clock it but the cops looking at me wide-eyed confirmed what I thought must have been a misheard statement. The moment the statement was confirmed was met by a What the fucking fuck!?! scream of disbelief and projectile vomit from the realization I had been banging a 15-year-old for a month. She did not look like she was that young. I immediately went on a rant about how I met her mom and how the fuck that was even possible. Apparently my reaction was so genuine that the cops believed it. They even had the girl call her mom and her mother confirmed that they had lied to me. All I received that night was being pulled aside by cops and a lecture about checking girls IDs. 15. The smelllike wet garbage in the hot sunhit me.Back when I was in law school, there was a girl, M. M was a wholesome gal from Wisconsin: blonde hair, blue eyes, a slight gap in her front teeth. A real girl-next-door type (in the traditional, non-porno sense). She grew up on a dairy farm. M was what we called law school hotlate 20s (and just starting to show it), slightly pudgy, finally trying harder to dress professionally than to dress sexy, generally attractive, but didn’t really stand out in a crowd. Her biggest assetliterallywas her awesome rack. To quote , they hung enormous, the way you’d think of God’s as big. Her daddy would have been lucky to have a milk cow endowed like her. It was the end of our first semester, which for new 1Ls is a huge deal. (The stress during the initial year in law school is tremendous; if you’ve ever seen the movie Paper Chase, it’s 100% accurate.) The tradition at my law school was for everyone to saunter over to the bar a block away after their last exam and hang out. M and I had a friendly relationship up until that point, so when I saw her walk through the door, I waved her over and she joined our group of about ten or so. At some pointprompted in part, I’m sure, by large quantities of boozewe of course started talking about sex, and because one of the guys with us was gay, the topic of anal sex came up. After a bit, M admitted that she had never tried anal. I was drunk and feeling saucy, so I said, ‘We should rectify that. Rectum-ify, she giggled back, and at that moment, I decided to put all of my drunken intellect towards coming in her back door before the night was out. After a few hours our group was dwindling, but some of us were determined to continue celebrating for a while longer and M was looking like she was ready to head out. She needed to eat, she said, and was running out of cash, too. We still had about 3/4 of a pizza left, and I was trying to convince her to stay, so I offered to buy her next drink if she’d stick around. When I came back with her drinksomething with tequila, I believeshe turned to me and said, I shouldn’t be eating this, I’m lactose-intolerant. I hope you’re happy, because I’m doing this for you. After that round, more people headed out, and M couldn’t be persuaded to stay. But I wasn’t ready to give up, so I offered to walk her home, since our apartments were next to each other, and only a few blocks away. When we got to her place, she invited me in. We went through the standard fooling around routine, ending up naked and horizontal in her bed. Emboldened by earlier conversation, M’s apparent enthusiasm, and a large dose of alcohol, I eventually suggested that we try anal, and M agreed. After some shuffling, we ended up with her on top so that she could control the depth and speed, and for a few minutes, I was happily watching M’s magnificent mammaries jiggle around while she gingerly bounced on my rod. After a few minutes, her expression switched from drunken sex stupor to pain and fear. Assuming I had hurt her somehow, I began to push her off of me, but she told me to wait. Sudden pressure and heat on my tool tipped me off to her digestive distress, and I could feel something trickling down my balls. I started to get up again, but she said, No, please. Stay inside. Just for a minute. I protested, but she was panicked, and begged me to help her to the bathroom before I pulled out. We flailed around for a moment, and awkwardly switched to doggy style. We tried to shuffle to the bathroom, but drunkenness, the physical difficulty of the act, and the sheer ridiculousness of it all meant we didn’t make much progress. In a moment of inebriated genius, I hoisted her up by the hips and suggested she walk on her hands. It turns out that wheelbarrowing a crying drunk girl across her apartment with your dick stuck in her ass isn’t particularly sexy, and a combination of internal pressure and my rapidly deflating member caused what is probably best referred to as an uncorking. I watched in slow-mo horror as a fountain of diarrhea blasted out of her butthole, point-blank into my crotch. Spattering my torso. And my arms. And my face. And I dropped her. She hit the ground, hard, sobbing. The smelllike wet garbage in the hot sunhit me. I was painted from waist down with her special brand of brownie batter. I was in shock. I just stood there, dumbfounded, staring at this poor girl, suffering the world’s worst case of mudbutt, crying on the floor of her shitty apartment, shit oozing out of her ass, shit dripping off of me. But as horrible as the sight and the smell were, the worst was the sound. That sound will haunt me for the rest of my life. No language on Earth can approximate the cacophony of her crapping everywhere. It was a combination of the most over-the-top whoopee cushion, someone snapping gum through their teeth, and the glug of a water cooler. That sound blared above all, the way classical music plays during the hero’s against-all-odds rush into death in war movies. The sobbing was a distant drone, almost outside my notice, but the burbling of her bowels was deafening, in perfect sonorous clarity. I must have stood there for maybe 10 seconds, but it felt like an hour. In a daze I pulled my pants on, then ran out the door. I mean ran. I sprinted. I left my shirt, my shoes, my socks, my boxers. All of it was abandoned in my mad dash to get home. People on the street saw me, but I didn’t care. I ran the 100 yards to my apartment door, past everyone, and I threw myself in the shower, and I cried. 16. She yelps like a pup and I spent the next 15 minutes cradling her as she whimpers, calling me an idiot.Was having sex with my girlfriend at the time shes this cute little thing but really strong (she actually joined the Army later) anyway shes on top, I grab her and pull her to me and flip her onto her back and now I’m on top. She fucking loves it. She decides she wants to put her hands in my hair, small problem her one arm is in between my hand holding me up (This was spontaneous hiking in the woods and on top of a picnic blanket sex and not soft bed sex) and her body. She decides to quickly pull her hand out just as I was thrusting. She knocks out my support and I start to fall so I lift my other hand and throw it to center the balance. Her seeing my fall turns to her side so we dont whack skulls. Now this girl weighs 110 soaking wet, I’m 250lbs. My center balancing position threw my hand down at Mach 1 with 250lbs behind it directly onto her breast. She yelps like a pup and I spent the next 15 minutes cradling her as she whimpers, calling me an idiot. 17. I lasted like 4 pumps max.tl;dr Couldn’t get it up and repeatedly embarrassed myself night after night for two weeks. So I met this girl overseas. She was also American and was working in the same area I was. Short, great curves, cute face, overall way hot. Started talking to her on Facebook, and found out she was an awesome conversationalist and that we had a lot of personality traits in common. Unfortunately, things didn’t escalate quickly enough before I ended up going home for a few months. While I was home, we kept talking of Facebook and really hit it off. Flirting became sex references became overt I want to have sex with you. This went on for like two months. We were Skyping and messaging all day long. We even discussed that we would be making out and banging as soon as I got back. Finally got back and saw her again, and we immediately went back to my room and got down to it. 0-100mph in the space of about 10 mins, and we hadn’t even had a sip of alcohol. I really liked this girl. A lot. Too much. So much that my nerves overruled my basic biological functions and I went soft as a bar rag as soon as she was above me about to put it in. Try as we might, there was no getting me stiff again. I’d never had trouble keeping it up (while sober) before and was highly surprised and disappointed with myself. I’d also never had this strong of an affection for someone before ever having sex with them. Freshly inspired by some illuminating time with a therapist back home, I decided that honesty with her and with myself was the best policy here and just explained that I was nervous as shit and didn’t think I could be performing tonight. She hid her disappointment very well. We cuddled up and went to bed. I woke up in the middle of the night, hard as a diamond, and decided to try again. Minimum amount of foreplay and I lasted like 4 pumps max. She actually thanked me for waking her up to try again! I could get plenty hard enough when we tried from there on out, but as soon as the shuttle approached for reentry, all the heat shielding melted away, the structure collapsed, and the crew went down in burning flames. My nerves persisted with no sign of relenting with her over the next few days. This saint blew me every day and I disappointed this woman who wanted my cock so bad every day for like two weeks. She stuck around enthusiastic and persistent (which blows my mind because she could have left and pulled any slab of hot meat she wanted) for two weeks. Expecting her to give up and leave made me even more nervous, but she never did. Finally, in a night of just the right amount of tipsy, I pulled it off! Had drunk, short, sloppy sex, but I was mildly reassured that I at least was capable. She moved in with me last summer and I can’t imagine a cooler girlfriend. 18. We get 4, maybe 5 thrusts in before the girl’s friend barges into the room and starts screaming bloody murder.Coincidentally my first go at sex…. Party at a good friends’ house, talk to a girl all night and end up in one of my friend’s bedroom, my friends were siblings, this is important because my friend had gotten in trouble earlier in the week with her mother resulting in her door knob being removed so she couldn’t lock the door. Things are getting hot and heavy, clothes are off, dick is slid in, and we get 4, maybe 5 thrusts in before the girl’s friend barges into the room and starts screaming bloody murder, for no reason beyond being a drunk high school girl encountering an awkward interaction, whole room rushes in as the girl sits, petrified, on top of my softening dick. 19. Girl blew me. Somehow she made it boring.Girl blew me. Somehow she made it boring. Also dry like desert. Painful, could not convince her to do something else. Her begging me to cum had opposite effect it should have. Normally wind blows I cum, but not this day. Finally take matters into my own hands (A, normally wouldn’t want to, B, she stopped me every time before she developed lockjaw an hour in) finish myself in her mouth. Collapse from exhaustion and sadness. She tells me she loves me. This was our first sexual encounter of any kind. Bizzaro world of future with her as my wife getting blow jobs I somehow don’t want every night flashes before my eyes. I bolt. She proclaims as I fade out of sight, that was the best I’ve ever given. Her roommates were in living room, though I didn’t see them, I’m sure they shook their heads. Sad. 20. The whole time I was thinking, Im gonna fucking die.She was drunk, I was drunker, it was like trying to stab someone with a piece of soft rope, so I had some…enhancement pills, not a great combo being drunk, horny and all worked up so I basically ended up at near heart attack levels of strain on my heart, I mean I did it and she seemed happy enough, but the whole time I was thinking Im gonna fucking die, I’m gonna die fucking someone in doggy and pin her down with my body when I do. Ironically I bet that made me last longer. Also when I woke up I was still erect. 21. And that, ladies and gents, is how I began the year of 2016 by contracting syphilis.She was 5 foot nothing, perky breasts, and a shapely backside. Cute as a button. She laid next to me on her single mattress in the dingy apartment room she was forced to rent in order to dance in the local strip joint of my home town. Both of us fairly hung over, though no less frisky for it. As we lay there dozing in and out of sleep, and mumbling conversation her intentions for my company became clearer the more often her ass made its way to grinding against my groin. Bedraggled state of affairs I was in, I tried to ignore her silent request for attention. Whether a result of anxiety at being in bed with a real live exotic dancer, the effects of my diet consisting solely of beer and cigarettes for 3 days solid, or a combination of both, junior was not up to the task. However my companion was determined. Given her increased advances I refused to allow myself to miss the opportunity of bedding a stripper. Reaching a free hand into my boxers, I began to tug one out. After a brief minute of awakening my member, I felt sufficiently hard enough to see through the task at hand. Rolling over into a spooning position I guided my cock to her awaiting opening, and did my damndest to enter her. Unfortunately it became obvious that my wedding tackle wasn’t sufficiently warmed up, as I began pushing rope after acquainting myself with the first couple inches of her vulva. Propping my would-be lover onto her knees, I assumed my position behind her and tried to go to work once more. I attended her vagina with one free hand while stimulating my rod with the other. It only occurred to me after the first few strokes how long my willy had gone without attention. Before I could rethink my strategy-or convince junior to take any other form besides that of an over cooked pasta noodle-I felt an all too familiar sensation rushing through my vas. I tried to clamp my trouser snake in a death grip as a last-ditch effort to stop the inevitable, but to no avail. Bat and balls pulsed in unison, erupting a fountain of jism far more enthusiastic than I would have expected given the setting. It was all over. Kneeling there, unbelieving, I looked brokenly to the web of cum enveloping my hand and the considerable dollop on the sheets. My attempted consort still positioned patiently, eyes closed, anticipating more than the idle digit I had planted in her baby chute. I did the best to compose myself, wiped the spunk off on a nearby scrap of fabric, and managed to splutter the words I need a cigarette. And that, ladies and gents, is how I began the year of 2016 by contracting syphilis. 22. I found a long yellow dead piece of grass up my dickhole.Was young and was having sex in the grass in the backyard, I felt a giant spider skittle across my chest and bucked the bitch off of me. Turned over and got up, later in the house I felt a weird pressure on my dick, went to the bathroom and found a long yellow dead piece of grass up my dickhole. Hurt the whole way out. If youre going to have sex outside kids, put down a blanket. 23. The story of Vampire Girl.Oh boy. Let me tell you the story of Vampire Girl. Many years ago, I had just gotten out of my first relationship. That first relationship included all the other firsts – kiss, grope, sex, etc. Upon its ending, I was a total wreck. A pitiful mass of ridiculously maudlin sentiments. My friends kept telling me I needed to rebound. Get under someone to get over someone. You know the drill. So a perfectly lovely girl invites me out, then we head to her place. I was not into it. I was and remain pretty much unable to differentiate the act of sex from romantic feelings, and I was still in love with my ex. So things weren’t really working down there. This lovely girl takes it in stride, and decides that some kink will help turn the cooked noodle back into hard, raw spaghetti. Cue something that I, the veteran of one fairly vanilla sexual partner, was not prepared to hear. Her: Do you want me to get out my whip? Me: Uh Her: We can taste each other’s blood. Me: can we just go to sleep, please? She kept stroking my face all night. Listen, S, I don’t know if you’re reading this, but current me would have been willing to work a bit with the whip. Still no blood play. Sorry for being awkward as all hell about it back then. Read this: 23 Women Reveal The Absolute WORST Sexual Experience Of Their LivesSource: http://allofbeer.com/23-men-reveal-the-absolute-worst-sexual-experience-of-their-lives/ from https://allofbeer.wordpress.com/2018/09/25/23-men-reveal-the-absolute-worst-sexual-experience-of-their-lives/ In the age of social media, connection between people has grown exponentially, but it’s not often that you see an artist interacting directly with fans. Whether he’s Tweeting heartfelt responses to fans, taking their advice, or even giving out free tickets, Cole Swindell has shown, time and time again, that he loves his supporters. (And has a heart.) 1. He takes song requests.I mean, how amazing is that? 2. He shows genuine concern.Adorable. 3. He gives inside scoop about shows.Love the little sneak peak! 4. He shares encouragement.So genuine. 5. He prays for fans when they’re experiencing tough times.This is incredibly heartfelt. 6. He shows appreciation for his day one supporters.Awh. 7. He encourages selfies and loves meeting fans.I’m jealous. 8. He takes time to write personalized responses.And might even buy them food and beer! 9. He sends birthday shoutouts.Ummm where’s mine, Cole? ? 10. He shows gratitude.And we’re just as thankful for him and his heart. ? Source: http://allofbeer.com/10-ways-cole-swindell-shares-his-huge-heart-with-his-fans/ from https://allofbeer.wordpress.com/2018/09/25/10-ways-cole-swindell-shares-his-huge-heart-with-his-fans/ Dont be fooled by the bowties: Phillys finest might just be the most raucous band of the moment if they can hold it together If James Alex ever gave up the day job, you suspect he could make a decent living as a motivational life coach. Barely a minute of conversation with the Beach Slang singer and guitarist goes by without him offering up a quotable nugget of existential advice: A life without regrets is not a life well lived; Theres an infinite amount of reasons to be happy to exist; Never retire from being alive! Theyre the sort of aphorisms you might see pinned up on an office noticeboard accompanied by dodgy clipart. Alex, though, really means this stuff, and he delivers it with such wide-eyed enthusiasm that, after an hour in his company, youre ready to believe it too. Sadly for the lifestyle guru industry, Alex has chosen to use his powers of persuasion in the pursuit of punk rock, something he believes in with evangelical ardour. Rocknroll to me is holy. I want to honour it properly, he proclaims. Beach Slang are certainly living up to that aim. On record the Philadelphia band are making some of the most giddy guitar music of the moment, accompanied by live shows that are rarely less than a riot. Perhaps Alexs zeal for punk rock is down to being afforded a second chance at practising it. He spent his 20s in a sloppy three-chord punk band called Weston but then gave up on the idea of making music for a living, went to art school and found a job in graphic design. The bug never left him, though. He spent his free time working on new music, which hed perform at open mics. When he played his songs to drummer JP Flexner, he in turn recruited bassist Ed McNulty and guitarist Ruben Gallego, and Beach Slang was born. What followed is indicative of the strange accelerated world of the post-internet music industry. Before theyd ever done any live shows Beach Slang recorded an EP, which received a favourable review on Pitchfork and garnered buzz on social media. By the time the band got around to playing their first gig people at the show were singing every word. In truth, Beach Slang are the kind of band you want to belt out every word to, preferably while showering yourself with a keg of beer. Their songs conjure up the sort of bratty but romantic visions of the Replacements and, latterly, the Hold Steady and Fucked Up adolescent in their outlook, conjuring up the confusion and excitement of negotiating adult life for the first time. That these songs of teenage abandon are sung by Alex, a man in his 40s, make them more rather than less affecting. When I write I imagine that Im scoring a John Hughes film, Alex says. When youre hitting those teen years, its the first time youre tasting freedom, finding your voice, shaking things up. That doesnt stop after youre a teenager, but the thrill of that first awakening is what I tap into. If the songs are stirring on record, live Beach Slang are something else. Alex likens the gigs to a huge drunk house party: crowd members are invited onstage to have a bash on bass, and in turn Alex spends much of the time splayed out on top of the audience. Stage curfews are ignored if not wilfully broken. At one recent gig the band played for 50 minutes and then returned for an encore. It went on for another hour and a half.
For Alex these sets of almost Springsteenian lengths are all about sending paying customers home happy. Its not a hostage situation, he laughs. But what we find is that people dont want to go home. Listen, I get the value for the money you work hard for. You go out and do the thing and you work hard and now youre spending that to come see me do the thing that I love? Im going to bleed for you. In this Beach Slang take their cue from college rocks original hellraisers The Replacements, who wreaked their own booze-stained trail of havoc across the same venues 30 years before. To me they exemplify rock and roll, Alex explains. It felt a little dangerous, it could be a car crash or it could be brilliant, but it was never predictable. If Beach Slang have inherited the Replacements good points, theres a danger they may have also taken on some of the self-destructive spirit that resulted in that bands sorry demise. In April there were rumours that Beach Slang had split after a disastrous live show in Salt Lake City. Reports of the gig and the footage that emerged proved pretty damning. The bands usual exuberance is almost entirely lacking, with heads pointed at the floor. At the end of the set, as the rest of the band storm offstage, Alex tells the promoter to refund the audience. We were Beach Slang, he says ruefully. Thankfully, reports of the bands demise were premature. Alex wrote a Facebook post a few days later stating that he was gigantically sorry for the performance, but denying the split rumours. If youre still in, we are, it ended. Looking back, he considers it the most cliched thing weve ever done, the result of frayed emotions at the end of a huge tour. We felt we were the Kinks for 40 minutes and we fought on stage. Since then, Flexner has left the band, but the rest of Beach Slang are powering on. Next month theyll release third album A Loud Bash Of Teenage Feelings, which Alex describes as more powerpoppy, with a Kerouac poet troubadour spirit. It will, of course, be followed by more of those house party gigs the band are known for. Still, Alex sees the dangers of band life souring. Once it stops being fun, why are you doing it? That goes for anything I do in life. If for a season I really enjoy gardening, Im going to garden the hell out of that thing. But if next spring I go out there and its not doing it for me, Im going to stop gardening. Its the same thing as rocknroll. For now though Alex is just happy to ride this out and see where it takes him. He switches back to motivational coach mode. I know the science is still out on this, but as far as we know we get one shot at this being alive thing. I just want to make sure that, whenever it is that my lungs start to collapse on me, I dont want to die saying I wish I wouldve… Man, I dont want to say that. Im doing what I can to not say that. If hes still in, we are. A Loud Bash Of Teenage Feelings is out on 23 Sep; Beach Slang tour the UK from 22 Aug
Source: http://allofbeer.com/beach-slang-meet-the-punk-rockers-who-are-ready-to-bleed-for-you/ from https://allofbeer.wordpress.com/2018/09/25/beach-slang-meet-the-punk-rockers-who-are-ready-to-bleed-for-you/ A customer at a Miami Starbucks was filmed yelling at a female employee behind the counter after his coffee order was reportedly delayed. Jorge de Cárdenas was working at a coffee shop location near the University of Miami around 4:30 p.m. Wednesday when he says a man became disgruntled while waiting for his beverage at the pickup counter, reports Miami New Times. “He said it was ‘anti-white discrimination,’” Cárdenas says, “so he started disparaging the staff. One patron called him an asshole, so he said, ‘Fuck you, bitch.’ That’s when I started filming.” MEXICAN BEER INDUSTRY ALREADY FEELING THE EFFECTS OF TRUMP’S PROPOSED POLICIES Cárdenas claims the man called the employee, who appears to be African-American, trash before he began filming the altercation. In the clip, the man shouts, “I voted for Trump! Trump! You lost, now give me my money back.
Congratulations, the employee can be heard saying off-camera in a slightly sarcastic tone. The man then demands to know the employees name. “What is your name?” he asked. “What is your name? I want your card. You are garbage. You are complete trash.” As the man continues to yell at the employee, another customer can be heard trying to step in. You do not talk to other people that way, the customer says before adding, “There’s no need to talk like that. You want to talk like that, take it outside. But do not talk to other people that way.” STARBUCKS RAISES COFFEE PRICES AGAIN Cárdenas, who follows the altercation until the man walks out of the Starbucks with a blonde companion, says the two male customers almost came to blows. He was shocked at how quickly the situation escalated. “The funny thing, besides just the concept of ‘anti-white discrimination,’ is just yelling ‘Trump!’ for no reason,” Cárdenas says. “Like, dude, you won.” A representative for Starbucks was not immediately available for comment. Source: http://allofbeer.com/foul-mouthed-starbucks-customer-caught-yelling-at-employee/ from https://allofbeer.wordpress.com/2018/09/23/foul-mouthed-starbucks-customer-caught-yelling-at-employee/ |
AuthorHi my name is Samantha Roberts I am 23 years old and I just graduated with my BSN degree I love to enjoy going out with friends on my spare time and enjoying the Bachelor life. Archives
April 2019
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