The barrel of clubs in the corner was filled with dinged up old treasures. Putters that hadn’t seen the light of day in years, if not decades, but were old, well-made, tools that did the job as well as the new-fangled alien clubs.
Life only takes its turn when you are not looking. With its emptiness buried in the silence of the way we live our life. We may find our life fuller if we care to think of our selves a little deeper. like the barrel that never shakes if it its full.
a barrel we rarly see barreles. roud ad woode what are they ee used for today with all of the plastic tuppuaware baggies papper plastic ad recicled. barreles sees as though thay thsat bee lieted to thr rela of wie akig. or for that atter other alcohloiuc beerages. Barrels goog ca do a barrel roll but what d
A barrel is actually one of my favorite things int he world. Of course you have to add Crate& in front it. I love the fact that something so common can seem so upscale and cool in the right mall. I love barrels and monkeys.
I rode in the barrel as a child. I slid in. My slender body curling into a ball. That’s when he pushed it. I rolled. Beaten, I slid out like a snake. Bruised, my eyes were tearful, but I couldn’t help but smile.
apples in a barrel
in the corner
in the barn
by a window
that was the destination
i went into the barn where barrel of apples was located in the corner by a window
and it smelled of pie
how delightful
Omg a barrel. I want to roll down a hill in a barrel. I want to put all my roommate’s wine bottles in it and cover it with glitter and roll it down the hill. I want to hear it go CRASH and watch all the glittery pieces fly and make the world shiny.
My face lay burned and charred with soot, and the barrel against my back pressed into my spine like on of the irons from the old days. How did I end up with this job? Was this my destiny? Moving barrels back and forth throughout the day like it was the only
WELL anyways, there was this noise in the basement. And I knew it was the barrel of fish because there was this sloshing around and stuff. So I go downstairs and there was a-
well I guess – hm I know what this sounds like – it sounds crazy but I guess you could call it a zombie.
The barrel at the side of the bard was dark and rusted with the wires around it holding it all together, but it was still magnificent in beauty. Having lasted through ages it still hold it’s classic look….through weather, through life….through everything and yet it goes unnoticed like something that is walked by every day without anyone admiring it.
this empty space consumes me, making my heart beat thud faster & faster until it will stop together. this barrel has me in a tumble, a frozen state of desire, of complete & bitter sadness. I am alone here.
a barrel of fun is like a loaded gun on opening day. Bright and early, dawning before the sun. If it goes down, you know you’ve won. Shot the dear, son of a gun.
stuck in a barrel. a tiny space confining these thoughts, these feelings, this potential. soon i will run out of air to breath, words to ay, and dreams to dream. before that time comes i want to tell you, Wallace Fetzer I am still in love with you.
i’m stuck in a barrel and I cant’ get out. It’s rolling down a river faster than I can control it, and the speed is making me vomit. I bang my fists against the sides, but no one hears me.
I have a barrel of fish in my basement and I like to keep my fish in there that I get from Wisconsin because ya know I’m from there. Ha! I alrady said it was a barrel of fish! I guess I didnt need to say it again. HA! well. Either way. I was sitting in my living room when all ofthe sudden I heard this clank, sort of.
The boy sat in the barrel, his hair tossed upon his head like the waves of the sea, which was quite ironic because he was in the middle of the ocean at the moment. Hard pressed in his desperate time of need, he stowed away upon this ship, not knowing if this was a positive or if this was the worst desicion in his life. It was the worst disexion
As i stuck my head inside to barrel to view its contents i became a ware that it was empty. the darkness that filled the barrel frightened me. it was at that point that i realized that this hollowness was a representation of the feelings i had within
Round as a pot and bound together by stell rods, the barrel is an amazing device , cabable of holding wine, and excellant substance that i am most fond of. Actually, i have never personally drank wine, but I am sure it is devine. I have watch many documentuaries on the production of barrels and I wouldn’t mind being a barrel maker. It is a worthy job and
the deep dark sight that i saw left me feeling empty and hollow. the empitness of the barrel frightened me for i felt it was a reflection of my own self. it brought memories of all the things i have not fulfilled and all of the things i wish i had not done.
Barrel roll. Do a barrel roll! For a short period of time, you couldnt go anywhere: a school hallway or facebook or anywhere without seeing or hearing DO A BARREL ROLL. I didn’t and still don’t know what it means, even after I googled it. Google told me it was a type of flip, but why would the stoners be so concerned with everyone doing flips and shit?
A barrel of laughs was old Norton. He had cut her father’s hair, and since Marion’s first bob, he had cut hers. She wasn’t Victorian, proud of the length of her hair. And he understood her sensibility; it got in her way.
So her father’s favorite barber quickly became hers. Didn’t hurt he had a joke and a story for every day of the week.
I found myself stuck in an old, rather moldy barrel. How I got here, I cannot tell you. It is certainly a mystery to me. Nevertheless, I have been trying to find my way out for what I assume to be an hour now, but what, or whoever put me in here certainly had no intention of allowing me to get out.
uhm this is a toughy. i like to type do a barrel jump into google! barrel jumps in dance look really cool and love to do them. this entry sucks omg. sorry. barrels remind me of donkey kong!
The barrel in the massive barn was red and filled with water. As I ushered my horse closer to it, I heard the gun shot. I looked down to find blood trickling down my hand
The barrel fell from the ship and split into two- gold light beaming far into every direction. Time almost stopped and voices turned to a whisper in the normally bustling market place along the docks. Jimmy knew he was in danger.
The young boy wore the barrel over his slender body to hide the shame. He knew of no other dogs that could jump as high as that one, he realized. For what were the odds that a dog would snatch his tuxedo from the clothing line just a few hours before the Winter Social.
A barrel of monkeys. A childhood favourite, although I’m not sure why. It may be one of the most boring toys, in my opinion, but maybe that’s why it was the greatest. It required a certain level of imagination to make it work.
a gun barrel. pointed at by head, daring me to run. but i resister, i can’t run because i’ll have the barrel running down my throat like a hot scolding cup of tear. RUN!
A barrel of wine sat in the corner of the cellar. It had been forgotten for so long that it despaired of ever being anything more than vinegar. Even that fate seemed unlikely. A disappointed vintage from a sad year on a dismal acre of land.
The barrel had plenty of fish in it, riddled with bullets of criticism. They slowly sank to the bottom, only to be scooped up by the most desperate patrons as they sought one another’s company after final call. The rest took the cream, and for that they earned the right to leave early.
He was a barrel chested man, a man whose scarred and ever-stubbled chin and thick, burnt forearms spoke volumes and whose resonant, rolling laughter drew stares and nervous glances in crowded places.
barrels. when i think of barrels, i think of wine cellars. filled with a lot of dust, maybe some mice, and mousetraps. i think of history. and all that the wine has lived through. oh, and anaerobic respiration, only because i am a complete and total nerd who actually pays attention in biology class.
there is a store called crate and barrel when I was younger there was a cd that played the answering machine messages of a woman’s mother to her. One of them was about crate a barrel sounding like the names nate and carol which always seemed very strange to me and slightly improbable.
The barrel of clubs in the corner was filled with dinged up old treasures. Putters that hadn’t seen the light of day in years, if not decades, but were old, well-made, tools that did the job as well as the new-fangled alien clubs.
Life only takes its turn when you are not looking. With its emptiness buried in the silence of the way we live our life. We may find our life fuller if we care to think of our selves a little deeper. like the barrel that never shakes if it its full.
a barrel we rarly see barreles. roud ad woode what are they ee used for today with all of the plastic tuppuaware baggies papper plastic ad recicled. barreles sees as though thay thsat bee lieted to thr rela of wie akig. or for that atter other alcohloiuc beerages. Barrels goog ca do a barrel roll but what d
A barrel is actually one of my favorite things int he world. Of course you have to add Crate& in front it. I love the fact that something so common can seem so upscale and cool in the right mall. I love barrels and monkeys.
I rode in the barrel as a child. I slid in. My slender body curling into a ball. That’s when he pushed it. I rolled. Beaten, I slid out like a snake. Bruised, my eyes were tearful, but I couldn’t help but smile.
apples in a barrel
in the corner
in the barn
by a window
that was the destination
i went into the barn where barrel of apples was located in the corner by a window
and it smelled of pie
how delightful
Fun is approximately measured in monkeys to the barrel. One barrel equaling about 14 monkeys, 1 monkey equaling about 10 People’s Elbows.
Omg a barrel. I want to roll down a hill in a barrel. I want to put all my roommate’s wine bottles in it and cover it with glitter and roll it down the hill. I want to hear it go CRASH and watch all the glittery pieces fly and make the world shiny.
My face lay burned and charred with soot, and the barrel against my back pressed into my spine like on of the irons from the old days. How did I end up with this job? Was this my destiny? Moving barrels back and forth throughout the day like it was the only
WELL anyways, there was this noise in the basement. And I knew it was the barrel of fish because there was this sloshing around and stuff. So I go downstairs and there was a-
well I guess – hm I know what this sounds like – it sounds crazy but I guess you could call it a zombie.
The barrel at the side of the bard was dark and rusted with the wires around it holding it all together, but it was still magnificent in beauty. Having lasted through ages it still hold it’s classic look….through weather, through life….through everything and yet it goes unnoticed like something that is walked by every day without anyone admiring it.
this empty space consumes me, making my heart beat thud faster & faster until it will stop together. this barrel has me in a tumble, a frozen state of desire, of complete & bitter sadness. I am alone here.
a barrel of fun is like a loaded gun on opening day. Bright and early, dawning before the sun. If it goes down, you know you’ve won. Shot the dear, son of a gun.
stuck in a barrel. a tiny space confining these thoughts, these feelings, this potential. soon i will run out of air to breath, words to ay, and dreams to dream. before that time comes i want to tell you, Wallace Fetzer I am still in love with you.
i’m stuck in a barrel and I cant’ get out. It’s rolling down a river faster than I can control it, and the speed is making me vomit. I bang my fists against the sides, but no one hears me.
I have a barrel of fish in my basement and I like to keep my fish in there that I get from Wisconsin because ya know I’m from there. Ha! I alrady said it was a barrel of fish! I guess I didnt need to say it again. HA! well. Either way. I was sitting in my living room when all ofthe sudden I heard this clank, sort of.
The boy sat in the barrel, his hair tossed upon his head like the waves of the sea, which was quite ironic because he was in the middle of the ocean at the moment. Hard pressed in his desperate time of need, he stowed away upon this ship, not knowing if this was a positive or if this was the worst desicion in his life. It was the worst disexion
As i stuck my head inside to barrel to view its contents i became a ware that it was empty. the darkness that filled the barrel frightened me. it was at that point that i realized that this hollowness was a representation of the feelings i had within
Round as a pot and bound together by stell rods, the barrel is an amazing device , cabable of holding wine, and excellant substance that i am most fond of. Actually, i have never personally drank wine, but I am sure it is devine. I have watch many documentuaries on the production of barrels and I wouldn’t mind being a barrel maker. It is a worthy job and
the deep dark sight that i saw left me feeling empty and hollow. the empitness of the barrel frightened me for i felt it was a reflection of my own self. it brought memories of all the things i have not fulfilled and all of the things i wish i had not done.
Barrel roll. Do a barrel roll! For a short period of time, you couldnt go anywhere: a school hallway or facebook or anywhere without seeing or hearing DO A BARREL ROLL. I didn’t and still don’t know what it means, even after I googled it. Google told me it was a type of flip, but why would the stoners be so concerned with everyone doing flips and shit?
A barrel of laughs was old Norton. He had cut her father’s hair, and since Marion’s first bob, he had cut hers. She wasn’t Victorian, proud of the length of her hair. And he understood her sensibility; it got in her way.
So her father’s favorite barber quickly became hers. Didn’t hurt he had a joke and a story for every day of the week.
He sat in the barrel for hours waiting until the coast was clear. The ship rocked back and forth. “This will be my death bed” he thought.
I found myself stuck in an old, rather moldy barrel. How I got here, I cannot tell you. It is certainly a mystery to me. Nevertheless, I have been trying to find my way out for what I assume to be an hour now, but what, or whoever put me in here certainly had no intention of allowing me to get out.
What’s that you see? An eye. An eyes is peaking out from a hole in the side of the barrel. How weird. Who would think of a barrel as a hiding spot?
I would love to be a pirate like in pirates of the carribbean where I’m stealing a barrel of rum from another pirate ship.
uhm this is a toughy. i like to type do a barrel jump into google! barrel jumps in dance look really cool and love to do them. this entry sucks omg. sorry. barrels remind me of donkey kong!
The barrel in the massive barn was red and filled with water. As I ushered my horse closer to it, I heard the gun shot. I looked down to find blood trickling down my hand
The barrel fell from the ship and split into two- gold light beaming far into every direction. Time almost stopped and voices turned to a whisper in the normally bustling market place along the docks. Jimmy knew he was in danger.
The young boy wore the barrel over his slender body to hide the shame. He knew of no other dogs that could jump as high as that one, he realized. For what were the odds that a dog would snatch his tuxedo from the clothing line just a few hours before the Winter Social.
A barrel of monkeys. A childhood favourite, although I’m not sure why. It may be one of the most boring toys, in my opinion, but maybe that’s why it was the greatest. It required a certain level of imagination to make it work.
a gun barrel. pointed at by head, daring me to run. but i resister, i can’t run because i’ll have the barrel running down my throat like a hot scolding cup of tear. RUN!
A barrel of wine sat in the corner of the cellar. It had been forgotten for so long that it despaired of ever being anything more than vinegar. Even that fate seemed unlikely. A disappointed vintage from a sad year on a dismal acre of land.
The barrel had plenty of fish in it, riddled with bullets of criticism. They slowly sank to the bottom, only to be scooped up by the most desperate patrons as they sought one another’s company after final call. The rest took the cream, and for that they earned the right to leave early.
down the barrel
In a barrel
Around the barrel
Within the barrel
Through the barrel
He was a barrel chested man, a man whose scarred and ever-stubbled chin and thick, burnt forearms spoke volumes and whose resonant, rolling laughter drew stares and nervous glances in crowded places.
barrels. when i think of barrels, i think of wine cellars. filled with a lot of dust, maybe some mice, and mousetraps. i think of history. and all that the wine has lived through. oh, and anaerobic respiration, only because i am a complete and total nerd who actually pays attention in biology class.
The barrel went over the edge of the falls, with only a single person watching. He was hoping it would never be found.
He definitely had me over the barrel. It was a tough situation, and the only choices I had were bad and worse.
Still, there had to be a way. If I could just think fast enough
… there had to be another solution. Then, in a flash, it came to me.
there is a store called crate and barrel when I was younger there was a cd that played the answering machine messages of a woman’s mother to her. One of them was about crate a barrel sounding like the names nate and carol which always seemed very strange to me and slightly improbable.