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pottiehotties:

Pottie Hotties is coming back. Finally got some free time to devote to making it work

pottiehotties:

Pottie Hotties is coming back. Finally got some free time to devote to making it work

Hey! I’m bringing all my pics over to my new blog, so pleeeeaaase follow me at my pretty wasted tumblr. See you there, bitches!

Hey! I’m bringing all my pics over to my new blog, so pleeeeaaase follow me at my pretty wasted tumblr. See you there, bitches!

prettywasted:

Malicious Envy of Prettywasted.com

Follow this Tumblr. You’ll love it!

prettywasted:

Malicious Envy of Prettywasted.com

Follow this Tumblr. You’ll love it!

It’s been awhile! How is everyone doing?

It’s been awhile! How is everyone doing?

internetcentral:

I hate these things, but I’m not taking any chances

internetcentral:

I hate these things, but I’m not taking any chances

Model: Strawberry Kush on Prettywasted.com
Besides Deadbabes, which is now on Facebook, don’t forget our sister 420 site,Prettywasted. We’re always on the search for hot 420 models, so be sure to sign up and get an account today!

Model: Strawberry Kush on Prettywasted.com

Besides Deadbabes, which is now on Facebook, don’t forget our sister 420 site,Prettywasted. We’re always on the search for hot 420 models, so be sure to sign up and get an account today!

prettywasted:

NEW 420 site at Prettywasted.com. Go check it out today!

prettywasted:

NEW 420 site at Prettywasted.com. Go check it out today!

internetcentral:

This is a Christmas Classic that should be shared with the family.
THE GRINCH WHO STOLE 420
Author Unknown
Now the Who’s down in Whoville had really good pot but the Grinch who lived just north of Whoville did not. He’d scraped out the resin that stuck to his bowl and re-rolled all the roaches that he could re-roll.
And there with the winter snow freezing his bones he sat on his mountain-top starting to jones. His eyes were all bleary his head it was sore and all he could think of was trying to score.
I can see them all now with their heads all a spinnin’ their eyes are half open; they’re stupidly grinnin’. They’ve drawn their Who draperies across their Who blinds they’ve stoked up their Who bongs they’re out of their minds. They’ve burned out their brain cells with fat sticks of Tai; and Panama Red; it brings tears to my eyes.
There’s gooey black hash that they’ve burned under glass and skunky Hawaiian; man this just burns my ass. They’ve munched out on nachos, on pretzels, on chips; they’ve dipped them in mustard…they’ve dipped them in dips.
They’ve zoned out on Zappa, Pink Floyd, and Led Zep and anything else those damn Who’s think is hep.” His nostrils were filled with a wonderful stink. And as the snow came down harder he started to think. He took off his cap and shook out his green dreads while visions of mayhem swirled ‘round in his head.
There must be a way,” the Grinch started to muse, “To score some choice bud from those miserable Who’s.” His hand on his chin stroked three days of green scruff and then the Grinch giggled in a voice deep and gruff… I know what I’ll do,” the Grinch smiled as he said, and he pulled his knit cap tightly over his head.
He chuckled with glee as he turned in his tracks and there at his heel he spied his dog, Max. Maxie, old boy,” the Grinch said with a growl, “I’ve concocted a plan most devious and foul. I’ve figured it out I know just what to do; by sunrise that town won’t see one smoking Who.
The first step of my plan,” he continued to gloat, “Is to tie dye myself a quick Rasta Clause coat…” So he ran to his closet and got out his dyes and he worked through the day ‘til the fumes burned his eyes. Then into the cave where he kept his old van and on to the next stage of his master plan…
He took out some spray paint and started to work and as the fumes filled his head he smiled like a jerk. Florescent yellow, and purple, and black, and anything else he could find round his shack. Orange and red, magenta and green, he turned his van into a Dayglo machine.
Then he filled it with sacks as the sun settled down and he whistled for Max as he eyeballed the town. “Maxie old boy the time is at hand; it’s time to unleash the great plan that I’ve planned.” Then he climbed in his van and to Max gave a whistle and he said to himself “I’m positive this’ll go down in history as the greatest of coups that ever got pulled on those addle-brained Who’s.”
Then he slammed the door shut and he slipped in the key and cranked it first one time, then two, and then three. He stomped on the gas, he cursed and he muttered. For a while the van sat there…then finally it sputtered. From out of the tail pipe came clouds of blue smoke and tears filled his eyes as he started to choke. He placed a clawed hand on the stick, rammed it down and with a god-awful screech he was headed for town.
He slipped and he slid, he swerved and he dodged and a couple of times nearley found himself lodged. But just like the snow, he came steadily down and at three in the morning, he pulled into town.. He quick cut the engine and slammed on the break knowing full well the racket would surely awake any one of those miserable sniveling Who’s who had just settled down in a drug induced snooze.
He opened the door and he stepped with a care out into the chill of the crisp winter air. Not a sound…not a stir…nothing at all but the soft, gentle plop of a heavy snowfall. Maxie jumped out of the Grinch van with glee, sniffed the ground quickly and started to pee. As the hot steaming clouds rose up into the air the Grinch went to the back of the van to prepare.
He took out the sacks, a ladder, some rope and with Max at his side, he lit out for the dope. He propped up the ladder against the first house and up, up he crept keeping quiet as a mouse. He crossed the cold roof surprisingly nimbley then dropped a few sacks and himself down the chimney.
He got stuck only once for a moment or two but he squirmed and he wriggled and he wormed himself through. He emerged from the fire placecovered with soot stepped out and felt something on top of his foot. There in the dark in a deep trance-like snooze he spied a large pile of stoned crashed out Who’s. Their mouths hanging open, their eyes at half-mast The Grinch growled, “I just missed one hell of a blast.”
He drew a deep breath and gave a quick smirk; then licking his lips, he went straight to his work. He lifted their boxes, he lifted their clips, he pinched all their acid and cancelled their trips, he copped all their papers, he took all their stash, the prick even took the last bowl of Who hash.
Then back up the chimney he lept with a bound, and tossed all his booty to Max on the ground. He lowered himself down the ladder and then scamper’d off to the next house to do it again.
From Who house to Who house he snuck and he scurried; to strip the whole town was his goal so he hurried. He packed everything up in his old dirty sacks and shoved it all into the van where ol’ Max faithfully guarded the load for his master who as the night wore on worked faster and faster.
Weary, he sighed with the work of his theft and he smiled when he saw there was just one house left. He climbed to the rooftop all tired and worn and saw in the east the first hint of morn’. Then down through the chimney he went with a sigh as a faint splash of gold illumin’d the sky.
And what he saw then made him doubt his own eyes: a circular room of gargantuan size. The room was all filled with over-stuffed pillows and vases of orchids and long pussy-willows and daisies, and roses, and poppies galore, and rising up proudly from the carpeted floor: a hooka the likes of which he’d never seen as tall as himself and deep emerald green. It was covered with bead work, inlaid with small roses, and sprouted eight wonderful serpentine hoses. They were capped in pure silver and easy to draw surely this was the best pipe the Grinch ever saw. The bowl on the top was as big as his fist and his eyes clouded over with a ravenous mist.
“Now this is a prize that I must have,” he said and he stood there in wonder just shaking his head. Then he cradled the hooka and started to lift taking care to be sure that his load didn’t shift. It was heavy and clumsy and hard to control; he knew getting it out would be no midday stroll.
Then he heard a small sound like the coo of a dove. What he saw when he turned gave his Grinch heart a shove. There she stood like a sylph in the fresh morning dew, little Moonflower Who who’d just turned twenty-two.
She was derssed all in gossamer, her cheeks like a rose with little round glasses on the end of her nose. Her hair like spun gold was cascading down over perfect bare shoulders of soft golden-brown. She was airy and sprightly, a wanton young elf, and he sighed when he saw her in spite of himself.
She spoke in a voice that was raspy and deep and the grinch fought the urge to just stand there and weep. “Rasta Clause…why… why are you taking our water-pipe. . why?”
The Grinch shook himself; he was crafty and slick. He thought up a lie and he thought it up quick. “Dere be no hassle, girl” the old sour puss lied “dere’s a hose on dis ting dat won’t draw on one side. I be takin’ it up to da workshop, my dear. I ream it out dere; den I bring it back here.”
Then he gave her a drink and he sent her to bed with a quickly rolled pin-joint to feed her young head. And when Moonflower Who was in bed with her cup, he crup to the chimney and stuffed the pipe up. Not a sound from the town, the snow had stopped falling. Somewhere in the distance a lone bird was calling.
He packed up the van and locked himself in and curled back his lips in an evil Grinch grin. “Well Maxie,” he said with a hint of surprise, “got it all in one night.” There was fire in his eyes. Then he took out his keys to start up the van and he thought to himself, “Ya done good, my man.”
He cranked it six times, then he cranked it six more and when nothing happened, he spat and he swore. “Of fuck you, you old rusted-out piece of shit.” but the Grinch van just sat there, and sputtered, and quit. When he saw that his efforts would come to no good he got out of the van and he opened the hood.
The engine was covered with oil and dust; the battery cables corroded with rust. The fanbelt was freyed, the head gasket blown, he slammed the hood down and he let out a groan. He swore and he cursed and he kicked at the ground, and from somewhere behind him he heard a strange sound.
There with the snow melting into his shoes, he turned…and he stood…face to face…with the Whos. The were dressed in dashikis, in bracelets, and beads, and they swayed in the wind like a field full of weeds. The tallest came forward in purple wide wales he wore sandals and pookas and his skin was quite pale.
“Hey, man,” he said, “there’s no need for this task; if you wanted some weed, dude, why didn’t you ask? We’d have set you up right with a good pound or two. It don’t take that much to fuck up a Who. But you come down here sneakin’ like a thief in the night, Rasta Clause. . dude. . that just isn’t right.”
And staring deep into the eyes of the Who the Grinch knew without doubt that his story was true. And what happened then, well in Whoville they say, that the Grinch’s small heart grew three sizes that day. It was then that the Grinch formed a different plan and he smiled as he ran to the back of the van.
He opened the doors and he reached for a sack then he dug out the contents and gave them all back. He gave back their boxes, he gave back their clips, he gave back their acid, rescheduled their trips. He gave back their papers, he gave back all their stash but the Who’s let him keep the last bowl of Who hash.
Then he bought an old bookstore in Whoville with cash with plenty of couches and spaces to crash. Now, the Grinch serves espresso, biscotti, herb tea; and the Who’s all chill out there and read poetry.
And Moonflower sits by the counter with glee, and a little green Who baby sits on her knee. And the Grinch grins a big grinchy grin at his wife and he thinks to himself, “It’s a wonderful life.” 

internetcentral:

This is a Christmas Classic that should be shared with the family.

THE GRINCH WHO STOLE 420

Author Unknown

Now the Who’s down in Whoville had really good pot 
but the Grinch who lived just north of Whoville did not. 
He’d scraped out the resin that stuck to his bowl 
and re-rolled all the roaches that he could re-roll.


And there with the winter snow freezing his bones 
he sat on his mountain-top starting to jones. 
His eyes were all bleary his head it was sore 
and all he could think of was trying to score.


I can see them all now with their heads all a spinnin’ 
their eyes are half open; they’re stupidly grinnin’. 
They’ve drawn their Who draperies across their Who blinds 
they’ve stoked up their Who bongs they’re out of their minds. 
They’ve burned out their brain cells with fat sticks of Tai; 
and Panama Red; it brings tears to my eyes.


There’s gooey black hash that they’ve burned under glass 
and skunky Hawaiian; man this just burns my ass. 
They’ve munched out on nachos, on pretzels, on chips; 
they’ve dipped them in mustard…they’ve dipped them in dips.


They’ve zoned out on Zappa, Pink Floyd, and Led Zep 
and anything else those damn Who’s think is hep.” 
His nostrils were filled with a wonderful stink. 
And as the snow came down harder he started to think. 
He took off his cap and shook out his green dreads 
while visions of mayhem swirled ‘round in his head.


There must be a way,” the Grinch started to muse, 
“To score some choice bud from those miserable Who’s.” 
His hand on his chin stroked three days of green scruff 
and then the Grinch giggled in a voice deep and gruff… 
I know what I’ll do,” the Grinch smiled as he said, 
and he pulled his knit cap tightly over his head.


He chuckled with glee as he turned in his tracks 
and there at his heel he spied his dog, Max. 
Maxie, old boy,” the Grinch said with a growl, 
“I’ve concocted a plan most devious and foul. 
I’ve figured it out I know just what to do; 
by sunrise that town won’t see one smoking Who.


The first step of my plan,” he continued to gloat, 
“Is to tie dye myself a quick Rasta Clause coat…” 
So he ran to his closet and got out his dyes 
and he worked through the day ‘til the fumes burned his eyes. 
Then into the cave where he kept his old van 
and on to the next stage of his master plan…


He took out some spray paint and started to work 
and as the fumes filled his head he smiled like a jerk. 
Florescent yellow, and purple, and black, 
and anything else he could find round his shack. 
Orange and red, magenta and green, 
he turned his van into a Dayglo machine.


Then he filled it with sacks as the sun settled down 
and he whistled for Max as he eyeballed the town. 
“Maxie old boy the time is at hand; 
it’s time to unleash the great plan that I’ve planned.” 
Then he climbed in his van and to Max gave a whistle 
and he said to himself “I’m positive this’ll 
go down in history as the greatest of coups 
that ever got pulled on those addle-brained Who’s.”


Then he slammed the door shut and he slipped in the key 
and cranked it first one time, then two, and then three. 
He stomped on the gas, he cursed and he muttered. 
For a while the van sat there…then finally it sputtered. 
From out of the tail pipe came clouds of blue smoke 
and tears filled his eyes as he started to choke. 
He placed a clawed hand on the stick, rammed it down 
and with a god-awful screech he was headed for town.


He slipped and he slid, he swerved and he dodged 
and a couple of times nearley found himself lodged. 
But just like the snow, he came steadily down 
and at three in the morning, he pulled into town.. 
He quick cut the engine and slammed on the break 
knowing full well the racket would surely awake 
any one of those miserable sniveling Who’s 
who had just settled down in a drug induced snooze.


He opened the door and he stepped with a care 
out into the chill of the crisp winter air. 
Not a sound…not a stir…nothing at all 
but the soft, gentle plop of a heavy snowfall. 
Maxie jumped out of the Grinch van with glee, 
sniffed the ground quickly and started to pee. 
As the hot steaming clouds rose up into the air 
the Grinch went to the back of the van to prepare.


He took out the sacks, a ladder, some rope 
and with Max at his side, he lit out for the dope. 
He propped up the ladder against the first house 
and up, up he crept keeping quiet as a mouse. 
He crossed the cold roof surprisingly nimbley 
then dropped a few sacks and himself down the chimney.


He got stuck only once for a moment or two 
but he squirmed and he wriggled and he wormed himself through. 
He emerged from the fire placecovered with soot 
stepped out and felt something on top of his foot. 
There in the dark in a deep trance-like snooze 
he spied a large pile of stoned crashed out Who’s. 
Their mouths hanging open, their eyes at half-mast 
The Grinch growled, “I just missed one hell of a blast.”


He drew a deep breath and gave a quick smirk; 
then licking his lips, he went straight to his work. 
He lifted their boxes, he lifted their clips, 
he pinched all their acid and cancelled their trips, 
he copped all their papers, he took all their stash, 
the prick even took the last bowl of Who hash.


Then back up the chimney he lept with a bound, 
and tossed all his booty to Max on the ground. 
He lowered himself down the ladder and then 
scamper’d off to the next house to do it again.


From Who house to Who house he snuck and he scurried; 
to strip the whole town was his goal so he hurried. 
He packed everything up in his old dirty sacks 
and shoved it all into the van where ol’ Max 
faithfully guarded the load for his master 
who as the night wore on worked faster and faster.


Weary, he sighed with the work of his theft 
and he smiled when he saw there was just one house left. 
He climbed to the rooftop all tired and worn 
and saw in the east the first hint of morn’. 
Then down through the chimney he went with a sigh 
as a faint splash of gold illumin’d the sky.


And what he saw then made him doubt his own eyes: 
a circular room of gargantuan size. 
The room was all filled with over-stuffed pillows 
and vases of orchids and long pussy-willows 
and daisies, and roses, and poppies galore, 
and rising up proudly from the carpeted floor: 
a hooka the likes of which he’d never seen 
as tall as himself and deep emerald green. 
It was covered with bead work, inlaid with small roses, 
and sprouted eight wonderful serpentine hoses. 
They were capped in pure silver and easy to draw 
surely this was the best pipe the Grinch ever saw. 
The bowl on the top was as big as his fist 
and his eyes clouded over with a ravenous mist.


“Now this is a prize that I must have,” he said 
and he stood there in wonder just shaking his head. 
Then he cradled the hooka and started to lift 
taking care to be sure that his load didn’t shift. 
It was heavy and clumsy and hard to control; 
he knew getting it out would be no midday stroll.


Then he heard a small sound like the coo of a dove. 
What he saw when he turned gave his Grinch heart a shove. 
There she stood like a sylph in the fresh morning dew, 
little Moonflower Who who’d just turned twenty-two.


She was derssed all in gossamer, her cheeks like a rose 
with little round glasses on the end of her nose. 
Her hair like spun gold was cascading down 
over perfect bare shoulders of soft golden-brown. 
She was airy and sprightly, a wanton young elf, 
and he sighed when he saw her in spite of himself.


She spoke in a voice that was raspy and deep 
and the grinch fought the urge to just stand there and weep. 
“Rasta Clause…why… 
why are you taking our water-pipe. . why?”


The Grinch shook himself; he was crafty and slick. 
He thought up a lie and he thought it up quick. 
“Dere be no hassle, girl” the old sour puss lied 
“dere’s a hose on dis ting dat won’t draw on one side. 
I be takin’ it up to da workshop, my dear. 
I ream it out dere; den I bring it back here.”


Then he gave her a drink and he sent her to bed 
with a quickly rolled pin-joint to feed her young head. 
And when Moonflower Who was in bed with her cup, 
he crup to the chimney and stuffed the pipe up. 
Not a sound from the town, the snow had stopped falling. 
Somewhere in the distance a lone bird was calling.


He packed up the van and locked himself in 
and curled back his lips in an evil Grinch grin. 
“Well Maxie,” he said with a hint of surprise, 
“got it all in one night.” There was fire in his eyes. 
Then he took out his keys to start up the van 
and he thought to himself, “Ya done good, my man.”


He cranked it six times, then he cranked it six more 
and when nothing happened, he spat and he swore. 
“Of fuck you, you old rusted-out piece of shit.” 
but the Grinch van just sat there, and sputtered, and quit. 
When he saw that his efforts would come to no good 
he got out of the van and he opened the hood.


The engine was covered with oil and dust; 
the battery cables corroded with rust. 
The fanbelt was freyed, the head gasket blown, 
he slammed the hood down and he let out a groan. 
He swore and he cursed and he kicked at the ground, 
and from somewhere behind him he heard a strange sound.


There with the snow melting into his shoes, 
he turned…and he stood…face to face…with the Whos. 
The were dressed in dashikis, in bracelets, and beads, 
and they swayed in the wind like a field full of weeds. 
The tallest came forward in purple wide wales 
he wore sandals and pookas and his skin was quite pale.


“Hey, man,” he said, “there’s no need for this task; 
if you wanted some weed, dude, why didn’t you ask? 
We’d have set you up right with a good pound or two. 
It don’t take that much to fuck up a Who. 
But you come down here sneakin’ like a thief in the night, 
Rasta Clause. . dude. . that just isn’t right.”


And staring deep into the eyes of the Who 
the Grinch knew without doubt that his story was true. 
And what happened then, well in Whoville they say, 
that the Grinch’s small heart grew three sizes that day. 
It was then that the Grinch formed a different plan 
and he smiled as he ran to the back of the van.


He opened the doors and he reached for a sack 
then he dug out the contents and gave them all back. 
He gave back their boxes, he gave back their clips, 
he gave back their acid, rescheduled their trips. 
He gave back their papers, he gave back all their stash 
but the Who’s let him keep the last bowl of Who hash.


Then he bought an old bookstore in Whoville with cash 
with plenty of couches and spaces to crash. 
Now, the Grinch serves espresso, biscotti, herb tea; 
and the Who’s all chill out there and read poetry.


And Moonflower sits by the counter with glee, 
and a little green Who baby sits on her knee. 
And the Grinch grins a big grinchy grin at his wife 
and he thinks to himself, “It’s a wonderful life.” 

Alt Model World is back and we’re looking for a cover model. Is it you? Check out the official rules and enter today.
Alt Model World Cover Model Contest

Alt Model World is back and we’re looking for a cover model. Is it you? Check out the official rules and enter today.

Alt Model World Cover Model Contest