Theme is Mexican food and my last name is Bean. I know the possibilities are endless but I want something perfect.
(Taco breaks) I donβt want to Taco bout it.
It was just a brief discussion.
They couldn't close his casket.
https://imgur.com/gallery/LLX4m
But they had naan.
Boss: You're a zoo keeper, none of them should get away
Cashew outside how bout dat?
cashiers are always checking me out.
All You Need Is Lunch
Do You Believe In Life After Lunch
Lunch In An Elevator
Algebros
Taco: Want to taco bout it? Donut: I donut know what to say.
This is a shit post
But affogato 'bout it.
She is all about that Chase, bout that Chase, no Rubble
An old lady came in and asked me to check her balance, so I pushed her over.
Trevor loved tractors. And I mean, really loved tractors. Forget any obsessions or high-level interests you may have, chances are they pale in the face of Trevorβs love for tractors.
Every day Trevor would get up, in his tractor-themed bedroom in his tractor-themed house, with its tractor-themed wallpaper and tractor-themed carpets, and he would make his bed with its tractor-themed duvet and tractor-themed sheets. He would go downstairs in his tractor-themed pajamas into his tractor-themed kitchen, with its tractor-themed tiles and cupboards, and he would eat his breakfast while perusing the latest tractor-themed magazine or annual.
Trevorsβs degree in Agricultural Engineering hung on his living room wall, along with a copy of his thesis, which centred around (you guessed it) tractors. The living room was decorated with all sorts of tractor-related trinkets, including die-cast models, paintings and drawings.
The hedges in Trevorβs front garden were trimmed in the shape of tractors. His lawn was vividly decorated with tractor-driving garden gnomes, and his garden furniture was constructed from various parts from vintage tractor designs.
Trevor just had one thing missing from his otherwise tractor-centric life; he had never actually owned, nor driven, a real tractor.
Not for his lack of trying, of course. Trevor had been to many tractor shows over the years, and visited many farms with friends of his, but none of the tractors he had seen had ever been quite right. Trevor was so knowledgeable about tractors that every single one he had come across had possessed some hidden trait that he wasnβt keen on. His first experience of driving a real tractor had to be perfect.
One day, Trevor was flicking through one of his favourite publications, Powertrain Quarterly, when there was a knock at the door. Trevor answered, and it was his friend and fellow tractor enthusiast, Jeff.
Trevor welcomed Jeff in, and over tea and crumpets served on tractor-themed crockery, they discussed the merits of aluminium drawbars and front-end loaders. Eventually Trevor pressed Jeff to explain the reason for his visit.
βWellβ said Jeff, βAs Iβm sure you know the convention comes to town laterβ.
The convention. Trevor had been thinking of little else the past three weeks. The neighbouring town annually threw a convention for farmers, particularly farmyard machinery. There would be combine harvesters, lawnmowers, and of course, tractors.
βYes of courseβ replied Trevor
... keep reading on reddit β‘
Took me a long time to finally be able to taco bout it. π€¦π»ββοΈ
& hence I don't care 'bout anything.
Lettuce pray.
They said I exceeded my maximum number of Loggins attempts...
Yea, you heard. I got a car from Lee-AM Nissan.
It's always jammin'
A Hola-peno
'Bout tree fellers.
taco bout it?
The stonefruit was almost ready for harvest when he was hit with a bout of laryngitis that left him unable to talk. Despite the doctors orders for bed rest, he went into the orchard early one morning to find all of his mature peach trees had been stolen. He was peachless."
It's a bout time.
Can we just TACO bout it?
