Commenti (36)

about 1 month ago

Is that stiflers Mom in #5 🤔

OPabout 1 month ago

@octavian @peterco @smut317 @cef_ultra @bad77 @parda @zerogroupe21 @goobygubby @poly7 @wsol

about 1 month ago

Nice! 😀

about 1 month ago

love the #3 reference!

about 1 month ago

That's just like, your opinion, man

OPabout 1 month ago

@cro_bo @saltymajor778 @azariel @barry915 @kendarfulgrim @onlyyouprod @ririfake @murcie @reptorn

OPabout 1 month ago

@doggomage @gildenstein @terror2 @casca_kirei-onna @varcolac @artfx85 @warmicestudios @narillia @valtek

about 1 month ago

Nice!

about 1 month ago

Niice! 😎

about 1 month ago

Image 6 is a vision... In more ways than one...

heihund

42g fa

White Russian

From the depths of Siberia comes a secret. Yakuts and Chukchi whisper of it in their yurts, when the ice-cold wind drives the snow against the untanned hides that enclose their refuge, separating the warmth of the hearth-fire within from Grandfather Frost without. Vodka, clear as the mountain streams of the Urals, transported vibration-decoupled via the Trans-Siberian Railway across the Austrian Alps and South Tyrol — where fresh cream from happy herb-fed cows is loaded aboard — arrives at the dolce vita of Italian monasteries: the place where the finest coffee liqueur is crafted between heaven and earth. Here — so it is murmured in Siberia — a ceremonial blend gives rise to a drink whose very name echoes its origin: "White Russian." The winds of civilization carry the secret forth from the yurts, borne along mistral and trade winds to the beach bars of this world. The hippest denizens of this microcosm don bathrobes and beach sandals for the casual stirring of the ingredients. The chorales of their taste buds singing their hymn in unison: "Hey, hey, hey, careful, man, there's a beverage here!"