How to use Rustling in a sentence as a noun

Scarcely and rustling sentence.

Hahahhahahahhaha I just woke up to a million notifications. Seems my mate had fun rustling jimmies with my page. Umad

This version is more jimmy rustling than any other one.

:DD my aunt was looking in my candy bag then i turned around kaz i heard rustling and i quickly took the bag and scolded at her :DD then she started reading what i was reading i messed up her hair then she threw a piece of paper at me making me scream xD ~MNT

With the warm sun after a nights of rustling wind and freezing rain, i am back in my blog again before i march into a brand new 2013. 第二杯温热的咖啡与旭日,在进入岁末之际,再次拜访自己的博客,有空也请来做客!

I'm getting tired of not rustling swagfag jimmies. It's depressing.

“Innovation opportunities do not come with the tempest but with the rustling of the breeze.” – Peter Drucker

How to use Rustling in a sentence as a adjective

“There is nothing on earth that can satisfy our deepest longing. We long to see God. The leaves of life are rustling with the rumor that we will - and we won't be satisfied until we do.” - Max Lucado

Marcus Tullius Cicero, Roman philosopher, statesman, lawyer “A nation can survive its fools, and even the ambitious. But it cannot survive treason from within. An enemy at the gates is less formidable, for he is known and carries his banner openly. But the traitor moves amongst those within the gate freely, his sly whispers rustling through all the alleys, heard in the very halls of government itself.”

6am no pups yet were exhausted tried letting her out several times to potty she tries to dig and go under house not good so I will be cleaning pee I assume she is so restless keep circling And rustling her bed digging tugging it we looked at her tie date and her actual 62 days is today the 26th so she has been in labor since last night when her temp dropped we thought her water broke but now I'm thinking since due date is today then she may have urinated either way we had to wash her bedding. I will keep you all posted hopefully next post will be go time and a puppy picture. Stay tuned!!!

Tis the day after christmas and all through the house not a whisper could be heard not even a mouse. No rustling of tinsel or old Christmas tales, it must be the madness of Boxing day sales. Good luck one and all!

“This child through David’s city shall ride in triumph by; the palm shall strew its branches, and every stone shall cry.” From our chairs in our tribal den, we heard a sound: something rustling or sweeping in the corner of the room. Rushing over, we found our kitten, nestled at the top of our tree, the only ornament, wide eyes peering at us, uplifted by swaying, fragile branches conspiring in this scheme… the smallest of creatures now royalty, a star of hope and ascension of life, yet soon to be dethroned from her chariot in the sky. David

I should write a song about jimmies, and all of the rustling and un-rustling that goes with them. -Mark

It was the night before christmas and all through the house nothing was stirring not even a mouse. A rustling started until the tree, it was me munching on a bag of choccy Ps!!!

Quote Examples using Rustling

A photographer, who was also a confirmed atheist, decided to go into the woods to get photos of the fall foliage. It was a beautiful day....fall colors, birds chirping, babbling brook, and a gentle breeze rustling the leaves. While snapping shots, the atheist heard a noise behind him, and whirled around to see a huge bear coming through the bushes. He dropped his camera and ran. And kept running....... and looking behind him, he noticed the bear was gaining on him. He was so scared that tears came to his eyes. He ran faster, but the bear was closing in on him. He ran faster yet, and tripped over a root. Rolling over onto his back, the atheist saw the bear rise to his full height and raise a huge paw...... and the atheist cried out, "Oh, God, no!" And everything stopped. The birds stopped chirping. The brook stopped babbling. The gentle breeze stopped. And the bear froze with his paw in the air. And the atheist heard a booming voice say, "Young man. For years you doubted my very existence, but now that your life is in peril you call my name to help you. Why should I do so?" And the atheist thought for a moment, and said, "Yes, you are right. If you are God, then it would be hypocritical of me to become a Christian at this point in my life. But, do you think that you could at least make the bear a Christian for today?" And the booming voice was quiet for a moment and then said, "Done." And everything started again. The birds chirping, brook babbling, and gentle breeze rustling the leaves. And the bear slowly lowered his paw. And the bear put his paws together, and bowed his massive head and said, "Dear Lord, please bless this food we are about to eat."

Anonymous

Good morning in this winter wonderland! Here is a useful Tip of the Day: Christmas tree cleanup Getting ready to hog-tie that Christmas tree and wrestle that little doggie out to the corral? If you're not careful, and if you didn't pre-giftwrap it in plastic, you're going to be finding pine needles for a long time. But you can skip the mess and a heap of trouble with pine needles by just rustling up some paper grocery bags and grabbing your pruning shears out of the barn. First, take down the fancy lights and stuff and put a sheet or dropcloth on the floor, underneath the tree. Then snip off branches, one at a time. Cut them into small pieces and stuff them. Soon all you'll have left is a bunch of bags that are easy to wrangle and a plain old tree trunk you can drag out of the ranch house without leaving a trail of needles behind you. If you have to venture out, take your time and be safe! Have a great day!

Anonymous

In a city park stood two statues, one female and the other male. These two statues faced each other for many years. Early one morning, an angel apppeared before the statues and said, "Since the two of you have been exemplary statues and have brought enjoyment to many people, I am giving you your greatest wish. I herby give you the gift of life. You have 30 minutes to do whatever you desire." And with that command, the statues came to life, smiled at each other, ran toward some nearby woods and dove behind a couple of bushes. The angel smiled to himself as he listened to the two statues giggling, bushes rustling and twigs snapping. After 15 minutes, the two statues emerged from the bushes, smiling. Puzzled, the angel looked at his watch and asked the statues, "You still have 15 minutes. Would you like to continue?" The male statue looked at the female and asked, "Do you want to do it again?" Smiling, the female statue said, "Sure. But This time you hold the pigeon down and I'll poop on it's head!"

Anonymous

The memory of you emerges from the night around me. The river mingles its stubborn lament with the sea. Deserted like the wharves at dawn. It is the hour of departure, oh deserted one! Cold flower heads are raining over my heart. Oh pit of debris, fierce cave of the shipwrecked. In you the wars and the flights accumulated. From you the wings of the song birds rose. You swallowed everything, like distance. Like the sea, like time. In you everything sank! It was the happy hour of assault and the kiss. The hour of the spell that blazed like a lighthouse. Pilot's dread, fury of blind driver, turbulent drunkenness of love, in you everything sank! In the childhood of mist my soul, winged and wounded. Lost discoverer, in you everything sank! You girdled sorrow, you clung to desire, sadness stunned you, in you everything sank! I made the wall of shadow draw back, beyond desire and act, I walked on. Oh flesh, my own flesh, woman whom I loved and lost, I summon you in the moist hour, I raise my song to you. Like a jar you housed infinite tenderness. and the infinite oblivion shattered you like a jar. There was the black solitude of the islands, and there, woman of love, your arms took me in. There was thirst and hunger, and you were the fruit. There were grief and ruins, and you were the miracle. Ah woman, I do not know how you could contain me in the earth of your soul, in the cross of your arms! How terrible and brief my desire was to you! How difficult and drunken, how tensed and avid. Cemetery of kisses, there is still fire in your tombs, still the fruited boughs burn, pecked at by birds. Oh the bitten mouth, oh the kissed limbs, oh the hungering teeth, oh the entwined bodies. Oh the mad coupling of hope and force in which we merged and despaired. And the tenderness, light as water and as flour. And the word scarcely begun on the lips. This was my destiny and in it was my voyage of my longing, and in it my longing fell, in you everything sank! Oh pit of debris, everything fell into you, what sorrow did you not express, in what sorrow are you not drowned! From billow to billow you still called and sang. Standing like a sailor in the prow of a vessel. You still flowered in songs, you still brike the currents. Oh pit of debris, open and bitter well. Pale blind diver, luckless slinger, lost discoverer, in you everything sank! It is the hour of departure, the hard cold hour which the night fastens to all the timetables. The rustling belt of the sea girdles the shore. Cold stars heave up, black birds migrate. Deserted like the wharves at dawn. Only tremulous shadow twists in my hands. Oh farther than everything. Oh farther than everything. It is the hour of departure. Oh abandoned one! Pablo Neruda

Anonymous

I jammed my hands into the pockets of my pullover sweater, and hunched my shoulders slightly against the morning chill. The spongy forest floor cushioned and muffled each footfall into near perfect silence. That explains why I didn’t know I was being watched. Followed. Never alone. Unsafe. The towering redwoods used to bring me comfort, sheltering me with their spiny branches. Then there was that day. Just that one day. Changing everything. It was morning, a bit early. Just after dawn. The ocean fog had rolled in, shrouding everything in a thick mist. Even though I was young, just a teen, I knew my mom would be okay with me walking around this early. I had grown up in these woods after all. I should have noticed that new tree. A tree that hadn’t been there yesterday. A tree that shouldn’t have been there at all. It wasn’t even a tree. But I didn’t take notice because an odd rustling, swishing sound approached me from behind. A light chill ran across my shoulders as I spun frantically to look at the source of the noise. My cat, Anna, trotted up to me happily through the fog and rubbed her head on my leg. I ran my hands through her long, silvery fur. How could I have been so paranoid? She almost always followed me on my walks. I strolled a bit longer, Anna following me unusually closely. Suddenly, she darted off into the forest, leaving me alone. I didn’t know that was the last time I would have see her alive. How could I have? “Hm. Must have been a squirrel,” I said slowly. I kept walking. Then I heard it. An unearthly yowl. An animal in pain. A cat. My cat. “Anna!” I shout into the grayness, crashing through the undergrowth towards the sound of my beloved pet. A small clearing opened in front of me. Empty. Lifeless. An old redwood sat at the other side of the clearing. I stepped toward it. Closer, until it was six feet from my face. Bile rose in my throat as I saw a symbol scrawled on the bark. An ‘X’ superimposed on a circle. Written in blood. Fresh blood. A buzzing sound filled my ears, like that of an insect. I stared at the symbol, not knowing what to think. The buzz increased in frequency until it was a high-pitched ring. It hurt my ears. They felt like they were on the verge of bleeding. Yet, somehow, I still managed to hear a soft laugh behind me; an evil snicker. I turned slowly, and saw him. It. Whatever the Hell it is or was. It was So. Tall. 10 feet maybe. At first I thought it was a logger. I had seen some pretty big loggers in my life. But what logger wears a goddamn business suit in the forest? And I have never seen, or will see, a human that tall. And what human has that many limbs? Along with two abnormally long, spindly arms, it had…others. Tentacles. Four. Six. Eight. Maybe ten. It was skinny, too. Unnaturally slender. I saw something in its hands. In it’s white hands, something silver and gray…and scarlet. In each hand. Dripping scarlet off of soft fur. The ringing in my ears gave way to his laughter. Filling my ears. Filling my mind. Cramming itself into my soul. Eating away the good. The happy. Leaving darkness, blood, pain. Several emotions flood through me at once. Rage. Sadness. Pain. Above all, fear. Undiluted fear courses through my veins along with frantic adrenaline, making me feel as though I am freezing and boiling at the same time. An awful cough rattled my bones, forcing me to my hands and knees. My back arched slightly as I inhaled, sounding like death. But that was impossible. How could I be Death? How could I be when he was standing before me? I glanced up briefly, hoping he would be gone. Hope was crushed. Crushed in the face of fear. He was still there, closer. About 5 feet away from me. I was still on the ground. Then he moved. He leaned towards me. I didn’t look up. He bent down and grabbed me with one of his long, bony tentacles, binding my arms to my sides. He lifted me off of the ground as if I weighed nothing. My eyes fluttered closed. I felt him grab my chin with his hand. Even with his palm on my chin, his long fingers reached into my hairline. His hands were surprisingly warm. I opened my eyes slowly. I opened my eyes to look upon his face. Our heads were about 3 feet apart. At first everything was fuzzy. I could see shapes. I saw the outline of his head, tilted slightly as if in curiosity. He angled my head another way, and my vision came into focus. I opened my mouth to scream. He had no face. Smooth, white, bald blankness. No eyes to examine me with, though that was what he seemed to be doing. No mouth to laugh with, but I knew he had. I will never forget that laugh. My scream never made it. Impossibly fast, his hand slid up to my mouth, clamping my jaw shut, displacing some of my hair, which had been tucked behind my ear. He shook his head slowly. I flailed, kicking my legs wildly. In the same unnatural quickness, another sharp, angular tentacle wrapped itself around my ankles, immobilizing me completely. He shook his head more emphatically, squeezing my jaw until it felt like my bones would snap. Even though I willed myself against the impulse to cry, a tear rolled down my cheek. With unexpected tenderness that contradicted the extreme pressure on my jaw, he reached up with his other hand to brush away the tear and tuck my hair out of my face. He tilted my head this way and that, and when he seemed satisfied, he shrugged a little and carelessly dropped me on the ground. I landed on my back, the air pushed out of my lungs. I managed to breathe after several seconds. He stood over me, watching, staring down at me. He waited for me to catch my breath. When I did, he kicked me viciously in the ribs, flipping me over onto my stomach. I felt a rib crack, sending searing pain through my chest. That, coupled with the pain in my jaw, forced a small whimper out of me. He chuckled at my pain. Then I watched him walk away. Every breath hurt. I watched until the fog had almost completely hidden him from view. Then he stopped suddenly, and turned back to look at me again. In an instant, he was right behind me, he grabbed the hood of my sweater and lifted me off of the ground again, the hood practically choking me. “What do you want from me?” I managed to say. More cold laughter. With abrupt cruelty, all pairs of thin tentacles pierced my back. What did I know of pain? Who was I to say I that I had known agony? He did nothing to mute my screams, which echoed through the forest in a haunting song of misery. The pain was nothing I had experienced, or will experience ever again. I heard someone shout my name, far in the distance. He raised my body over his head, and gave my body a little jolt, driving the knives of agony deeper into my chest. My screams doubled in intensity. He finally flung me to the ground, and more bones broke. Blood trickled out of my mouth. My sobs rolled through the clearing, and then the darkness closed in. I remember waking up in the hospital, hearing voices on the other side of the curtain. Voices talking about how I was lucky that the eight stab wounds missed any vital organs, any organs at all really. He just nicked a lung. A few broken ribs, a cracked ulna. I heard them say that the body of a convicted felon was found hanging from a tree they day after I was attacked. Convenient. Convenient for him and clever of him. Everyone would think that the criminal had killed himself in an act of remorse for what he had done to me. When my parents asked me what happened, ‘What did I remember?’, I lied. I told them I remembered walking through the forest, and the man had run up behind me, and stabbed me. I told them I blacked out almost instantly. The police questioned me a little, but since the case was pretty much closed, they didn’t really bother me after that. He didn’t kill me. He didn’t kill me on purpose. He didn’t because he’s not done with me. I still see that symbol now and then. Here, there. Everywhere. I still have scars. Nobody knows the truth. Nobody but you now. Now that you know him, he knows you. He will find you. You might not see him right away. But he sees you. You might get lucky. He might kill you from the beginning. Or you might be like me. You might be haunted by that slender man. Then he takes you away. He takes you away eventually. He makes your life a living Hell until you welcome death. Ah-I see he has finally come for me. He stands behind me now. He is behind you, too, somewhere. Waiting. Watching.

Anonymous

#5 so my sister and her boyfriend came home while i was watching TV and they went into the kitchen to get some drinks. while in the kitchen they were doing their whole lovey dovey thing and kissing and playing grab-ass and what not, and it was unappealing to me, so i went up to my room. a few minutes later, i heard them enter into my sister's room and then some rustling occurred. i thought nothing of it, they were probably just making out again on her bed. then i heard her scream and i got worried so i ran over to her room, and opened the door, got on the floor, everybody walk the dinosaur! open to door, get on the floor, everybody walk the dinosaur not a love confession

Anonymous

Ajax sat on the beach. He stared out at the waves with a look that showed he was dozed off into space. Deep in thought, he stayed still. He was thinking about Jackie. He hadn't talked to her much since he had almost kissed her but didn't. There were a couple of "Hey" and "What's up?" But a lot more of "I gotta go." and "See ya later".

Anonymous

It begins! -------------------------------------------- You are lying in your bed, the dull whirring of your air conditioner is the only thing separating you from total silence. You know, that particular silence that is so heavy, and so thick, it’s almost the equivalent of a loud noise itself? The kind of silence where you could hear a pin drop three rooms away in; the kind of silence that fills your ears with the sound of your own heartbeat as your ear presses against your pillow. That kind of silence. The dull whirring is the only noise you can hear, a noise that typically goes unnoticed, until it is the only noise present. It’s comforting, whether you realize it or not. A sort of white noise. But suddenly, your room is back at the temperature specified on the thermostat, and the whirring comes to a stop, as the vent makes a dull clang. To your misfortune, you are not yet asleep, and the silence sets in. You should be comforted by the knowledge that you could hear anything and everything in your surroundings; making up for the lack of vision provided by the darkness. But you aren’t. It’s this very environment that sets you on edge, causes your heart to beat a bit faster, makes your body tense without explanation, and that makes you aware when you are not alone. But you are alone right? You’ve been laying there with your eyes closed for almost 15 minutes now, and you made sure everything was normal in your room before you turned off the light; you’re a smart one. All those Facebook quizzes you took have just reinforced what you already know, if you were in a horror movie, you’d survive until the end. You’ve even made a carefully laid plan of what you would do in any of the situations you’ve read about in creepypastas. But that stuff is just nonsense anyway, right? You aren’t scared. Or at least that’s what you keep telling yourself. But wait… what was that? Was that the rustling of fabric? But, you didn’t shift in your bed, or make any movement. Did you make that noise? No, you couldn’t have. You’re paralyzed your bed, stiff with an unease that was not present until these very moments. You must have imagined it…you must have. You roll over to face the wall. Out of sight, out of mind. If there’s something in the room with you, it will just have to accept that you are much to tired to deal with it at the moment. You’re still stricken with uneasiness as you hear rustling again. This time, the rustling is accompanied by a soft thud on the ground. Your heart seizes in your chest… did you really just hear that? No no, you’ve just gotten yourself worked up about nothing. You really should stop play horror survival games so late at night, it’s messing with your brain. You’re a rational person, stop acting so childish and just fall asleep already. You close your eyes tightly, silently hoping sleep would whisk you away soon. You’re practically begging for the safety of the nonexistent dreamworld of your own creation. You’re running away in a sense; but there’s nothing there… right? You’re just tired. I know, I know. As your eyes are clinched tightly shut, you become aware that no matter how much you want to, you can no longer move your arms and legs. Come on now, are you really letting this get to you? What are you? 12 years old? Suck it up and fall asleep already. Now, more tense than ever, that unnerving sound echoes across the room again. The rustling of fabric, followed by a soft thud on the ground. Unwittingly, you’re holding your breath now, eyes shut as tightly as possible. You have childish urge to pull the blanket over your head. You’re imagining it all! It’s all in your head; I thought you were better than this. You heart is pounding loudly in your ears now, but not loudly enough to drown out the now repetitive sound approaching from across the room. What’s that rustling!? Maybe you left some paper on the ground. That has to be it! And that thumping? Probably the cat, or the dog, or something. They probably ran in when you weren’t looking before you closed your door. Yeah, you’re just paranoid. The noise is now within a foot of your bed, and with your back to it, you don’t dare turn around to investigate, not that it’d do much good; the only light in your room is the dull glow of your cell phone on the nightstand next to you, you plugged it in before crawled into bed remember? But you don’t dare turn around and look; there’s nothing there anyway. Minutes that feel like hours pass as you face your wall, stiff as a board, unable to will your uncooperative body to move. You haven’t heard the noises in a while now, not since it reached the edge of your bed. You know there’s nothing there you silly. It’s this silence. It’s messing with you. You really should have turned on some music or something before you went to bed. Oh well, maybe next time. Suddenly, a familiar clang echoes through the room, followed by that familiar whirring. You exhale deeply, your body relaxing as you are flooded with relief. Thank God that’s over, now you can finally sleep in peace. That silence was really getting to you. You roll over and open your eyes to check the time on your lit cell phone, it must have been at least an hour since you You are greeted face to face with his ear to ear grin. Dimly lit sockets where eyes once resided stare intently at you. "Ah...I see you’re still awake."

Anonymous

The world of Autistics is often shrouded in mist, mostly because a majority of us with Autism don't understand how neurotypicals think, I want to explain to you what our world looks like through our eyes, I'm one of the only people who can explain this because my Autism is so mild I can almost "shut off" my symptoms for a while, and my symptoms were never bad to begin with, so I can easily explain our world in a way that makes sense to normal people. Imagine this scene: You're sitting at a desk in a school listening to the teacher talk, you can't concentrate on what the teacher is saying because you're watching a bird outside that you can see has a mild wing injury, you understand the bird's response to the injury, it seems like the way you would respond to pain. Now imagine te bird leaves, you're able to concentrate on the teacher, but what she says seems dull to you, you can't wait to read the chapter assigned tonight because you know it will have more complex terms, and it won't be overly simplified. You move ahead on the worksheet the class is doing, tuning out everything around you, you're in a bubble that blocks out everythinghappening around you, because if you pay attention to you surroundings it will overwhelm you. A conversation next to you can leave you unable to concentrate, a stray beam of light fascinates you, and the noise of papers rustling rings out like gunshots. This is the sensory world of someone with Autism, I'll put up a post soon explaining our social difficulties.

Anonymous

A nation can survive its fools, and even the ambitious. but it canot survive treason from within. An enemy at the gates is less formidable, for he is known and he carries his banners openly against the city. but the traitor moves among those within the gates freely, his sly whispers rustling through all the alleys, heard in the very halls of government itself. For the traitor appears no traitor; he speaks in the accents familiar to his victims, and he wears their face and their garments, and he appeals to the baseness that lies deep in the hearts of all men. He rots the soul of a nation; he works secretly and unknown in the night to undermine the pillars of a city; he infects the body politic so that it can no longer resist. A murder is less to be feared. The traitor is the carrier of the plague.

Anonymous

Haggis Hunting tips: The haggis can hear only certain high pitched sounds with any clarity. Previous hunters have been spotted whacking turnips with a mallet next to a haggis warren, or fobhríste, however this has been found to have little effect. It should be noted however that even a light rustling can make these delicate creatures bolt. The sound the haggis is most sensitive to is that of plaid rubbing on underpants. No-one knows why this should be, perhaps this almost undetectable noise mimics exactly the sound of a golden eagle plummeting towards its target. Whatever the reason, the aim of a haggis hunter who sports underwear will never be true. Hence, the tradition that “true Scots” wear nothing under their kilt.

Anonymous

The weather forecast is the antichrist of motorcyclists so here is an Interpretation of the weather forecast for motorcyclists. Fine, dry and sunny - You know they are lying - Proceed with caution. Showers - We saw a cloud on the horizon - Good biking weather. Gale force winds - leaves were rustling on the trees - Very good biking weather. Rain, Hale and sleet - Roads may be damp - Exciting biking weather. Horrific weather, roads blocked, traffic not moving, severe weather warning - 5mm of snow in London - Superb biking weather up North. Remember a bike is not just for summer.

Anonymous

Proper Noun Examples for Rustling

Whenever I hear, "Rustling Jimmies", I think of putting both hands on someone's thigh, and rubbing vigorously.

Was stopped in the street and asked ''Are you an animal lover?'' I said ''Depends what kind of animal and how well it's cooked.'' She promptly called me a #!$% and walked away. Rustling the jimmies of a vegetarian? Mission successful..

Related Sentences for Rustling

So let me get this straight. I'm going to be sued, wrecked by the FBI AND sorted out by the Mafia? Who else rustles jimmies so hard.

So wait a minute, Axe doesn't actually bring in the #!$%@&!? I call shenanigans on this #!$%.

Anyone have Whorey McSlutguts real name yet? My mate will ring her parents and record the call at the same time as emailing the picture to them for maximum effect.

Okay, so curiosity, who else dislikes me as admin, or the page itself? I'm not going to ban you, I just want to know your guys opinion of me. ~Snake

In a world without power, what’s your most valuable skill to offer society?

Red ring of death is 3 rings or 4 rings? I say 3 rings and so does the xbox support page, but someone says it's 4 rings and he's taking his own word over the official xbox support pages word. ~Matt

She sent me a winky face. She wants the fin.

As you've traveled over the river and through the woods this holiday, you have no doubt noticed the small trees that still have their brown leaves. Want to know which tree it is?

Tell us! What was the highlight of your holiday celebration?

What a Christmas Carnival we had yesterday. Dance, music, drums, folk, poetry, play, food, stalls- all and more. Those who were part of this please like this post to show you had a great time too.

What are you cooking up with your Christmas Dinner leftovers today?

Have any sexual fantasies or fetishes? Tell us below.

Alright, I'm going to do a Q & A too, ask away, I don't what the time limit will be on ones that I accept. -Seth

Ok guys. I'm going to do a Q&A answer video tonight. Leave questions in the comments, all of the ones posted within the next fifteen minutes will be answered. -Pepsi.

Sometimes I wonder if Norse Metalhead spouts off all these blasphemous opinions because he's a master troll, and not because he actually has blasphemous opinions.

What are your favorite pages? Am gunna check 'em all out.

I opened my Christmas presents for the last time in my childhood, not gonna lie it gave me feels. -Jimmie

Doesnt it just rustle you're jimmies when people are unable to differentiate between your and you're? ~Niglet

Jude was just making his way downtown, walking fast, faces past as he's home bound. dun nu nu nu nu nu nu. He walked into the house with like a #!$% ton of groceries because he's cool and food is good i guess. Yup.

Hai! im new admin :DD They call me, Monroe... Nyu Monroe<3 and im here to kick ass and take names,,, whats youre name? :DD ~NyuMonroe

It's really hard trying to convince the teenagers that they need to go to bed or Santa won't show up. I might have to get on the rooftop and stomp around making reindeer noises to convince them he's real. Anyone know what noises reindeer make??? Dang teenagers!

I hate how the British pronounce everything wrong.

13 year old pregnant girl defending herself on a status? I know you want to see this.

Rustling definitions

noun

the stealing of cattle

noun

a light noise, like the noise of silk clothing or leaves blowing in the wind

See also: rustle whisper whispering

adjective

characterized by soft sounds

See also: murmurous soughing susurrous