Here. Just refresh for a new one.

"Such meals that you cook! Certainly your kitchen is overrun with pestilence and vermin!"

Ahem! I resemble that remark! Hmmph.

(lol, I'd seen that site before and forgotten about it. Thanks for the reminder. )

Your intelligence attains the grand summation of molecular motion at absolute zero.

Interesting site!

Oh, well, um, *stammer*...mine said :

"May clinging breasts always come to your aid in the kitchen."

I reckon I'd better not say one word in response to that!

Marmots will stick to you in Delaware.


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I got a Portuguese one a bit earlier.

How lovely is your curdled priest!

Why thank you! I think.

Don't worry, Gats. The first one I got was about my breasts smiling - so if you ever need the help in the kitchen you know mine are friendly!

Come, let me gnaw your fingernails that I may absorb and lose myself in the wise and gritty detritus that is you.

Your mobile calluses massage even the most scarred of surfaces.

That page brings back memories, that is exactly how pages used to look in the early days of the internet, back in the days of good old plain Netscape with no version numbers - a grey background and that font.

May your succulent earlobes ever flap about my knees like a thousand wooden pigeons fleeing the local sawmill.

I might make this the new signiture on all my emails!

Your eyelids refract the turgid limnations of an eel trapped in flickering cinematographic paralysis.
Hmmm...not sure what to make of that!

The quietness of a manhole cover cannot compare with the wild vapours of nylon I sense in your larynx.


Say what??

Hermaphrodites around the galaxy desire that you turn your rock and crochet bowl to its loudest setting.
Hmmmmmmmm.......

Tribes of primitive hunters, with rhinestone codpieces rampant, should build pyramids of Chevy engines covered in butterscotch syrup to exalt the diastolic, ineffable, scintillated and cacophonous salamander of truth which slimes and distracts from each and every orifice of your holy refrigerator, Sears be its brand.

Whew! I think I hit the jackpot!

You are as orange as a congeleen afro curled around the bony edges of a silver spoon expressing its innermost desires for a lime-based detergent.

Oooh, stop it: I'm blushing!

May your sh*t always sport dog on the bottom of your shoe.

Reminds me of a verbal mobius strip.

So precisely, your head fits into the smallest of diameters.

Your nose hairs scare me.

Your hair sends forth a sheen remniscent of a wounded man streaming bandage gauze from the highest church steeple.

This thing doesn't like me today...

And this one is just...eeww...

Your teeth are as soft as liquid stones poured from an aquamarine vase of solidifying flesh.

My elbow sockets sharpen pencils when you pass by on divine fumes of industrial combustion.


You have the vocabulary of an aspidistra in panic.

*giggles*
Oh thanks....

'Your legs are like threads of cotton, though much thicker, and filled with weevils.'

Spot on, although I preferred 'You have not yet reached the depths of your depravity'. I felt it gave me something to look forward to.

You enter while seven exits.

Oooh, we're getting cryptic now!

Ok, um, I'll say..."and the rooster crows at midnight".

Did I get the password right?

"If seen on a disintegrating smokestack, your eyelashes would certainly compell even a wayward band of masticating cod into a feverish frenzy."

Wow! can't decide if it's good or bad compliment

Your fingers are as divine as the Pope's nostril hair!
Oooh stop it... i'm blushing!

Woods nymphs sprinkle your path with bowlings balls while you dance and prowl in the sequined moonlight with leftover heads of lettuce.

Now that is my idea of a great night out!

I love your eyes, but only with ketchup.

HMMMMM....Ketchup with blue?? Not sure that i can work with that.

Your hair is like a pony's rear and I'm caught full of wonder in the trap that follows your every move.

Your radiance is a beam of light that dazzles me so much that I feel compelled to wear dark glasses and consume carrots.

I had to try another one of these. Imagine it:

The dimples of your breasts do pucker evocatively when you smile.

For heaven's sakes! This thing is obsessed with me and breasts .