## Homestead Exemption

Homestead Exemption

Finding Good House Sitter

Confidential Secure Matching System Gets Results!...

Homestead Exemption

´╗┐Why I Avoid Anyone Who Owns a Schnitzel Dog There are many discharge online bird games, one that is currently the rage has a cat chasing a Chihuahua.
People playing the game can be the whip or they can be the dog.
There's also a phone rendition of the halting that women often machination while their progeny toss knives at each supplementary in the supplementary room, or while they disaster through stop signs without even slowing.
That limping got me thinking about one of the major pet peeves in life: schnitzel dogs.

Everyone has a few warning code in people.

Something that, if they see a individual do, or if they see a fellow with that attribute, makes them instinctively wary and decide that the companion isn't all there or isn't wired right.

For me it's schnitzel dogs.

By that, I mean dogs shaped like a schnitzel.
I was in DC, living with four marines.

Let's impartial chat no one picked a fight with us when we went to the bar.
Now you would reckon that a team of marines would have a chasm bull, or German Shepherd, or Great Dane, or some dog with a least a smidgeon of decaying ass in it.


The schoolboy that owned the habitat had two dachshunds.

I was housesitting for a few days while they camped, and couldn't go vanguard I had to work.
The two dachshunds were in heat, the female's vagina had swollen to the mark where it looked like a ripe strawberry.

The manlike chaser her around the habitat for hours on end, but she wouldn't grant it up.
I would keep held her down for him if it would hold shut him up.
From that moment on, I hated schnitzel dogs.

A few weeks, later, I came home early, and caught the owner of the domicile and the dachshunds watching footage.

It was of an AC-130 Spectre flying gunship killing Iraqi civilians.

He was beating off to it.

Over the years, I met many additional kin who owned tiny dogs, but never someone normal.
You always see their owners transact schnitzel dogs into federal places, as if they are some cordial of surety drape or something.
They'll put recognized on the mutts, hand loop sweaters, ribbons in their hair, even tacky little hats.

They'll gossip to them, even bear the dog in their arms like a baby.

Couldn't the device survive in the car for a few minutes? Sure it could.

Whether the whacked in the probe neurotic dog host could is a separate question.

The bark of a schnitzel dog is like fingers being scraped down a blackboard.

They bark incessantly, and often delay like atoms while doing so.
One is reminded of royalty that inbred too much.
Even if I meet someone who I reckon is cool, when I see they own a schnitzel dog, I run.

Especially chicks.

No matter how sane she seems, if she has a schnitzel dog, she's a psycho.
Bank on it.

These days when I see someone frittering away hours on one of those unchain online maid games in which the bullwhip tries to catch the Chihuahua, I always conjecture of schnitzel dogs.

If I was Bill Gates, I'd sublet Adam Viniateri to be my individual schnitzel neutralizer.
To just run up to any schnitzel I saw, and punt it so heavy it would later up in low earth orbit.

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