I'm sorry for when i offend you, oh yes if you become a regular reader of this shit, your eye's will burn from the amount of text piss i'm geysering into your face. some call me a, "forward thinker", I like to call myself a "backwards doer." a relative simple soul, with simple dreams. at this point you may say "god, this guy is horrible with punctuation." i will simply state, I never punctuate on the first date." but i digress lets get to brass tax, or is it tacks, fuck it Tim says it's gonna be tax, cause who the fuck wants to hear about tacks? not you, your here to get a word-gasm, and my mind's dick will give that to you. long and hard, perhaps tweek the brain nips a bit? not into that? thats ok. fucking literature prude. leave us smut-peddling hardcore swinging dicks of the web (not to be sexist with the term "swinging dicks" i know women don't have dicks, and if they do, i just lost a bet.) leave us to our rantings about the random, the daily "what the fuck" if you will. i might have one or two of those for you, and if you show me yours i'll show you mine. i meant that in the worst way possible, and the possiblities are endless. I may not be wholesome but atleast i'm honest. so i'll leave you with this: Fuck it.
HAHAHA. love it.
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