Pander Bear
Bluelight Crew
Its like:
Listen lady, I'm happy that you're happy. You're living the dream. You serve the kind of food that tastes like cardboard soaked in rice milk, and it looks like the kind of food earthlings get served on alien planets. You know, where they're all like "... I dunno guys." Moreover, you make so much money exploiting yuppies, you can live in newyork city with a moron. You go girl. Good for you for keeping yourself as far away from the real world as possible. We like you where you are.
Then you come on your ward of the state's documentary and fabricate some likely BS about how your morons penis doesn't do it for your bony ass now that he throws up McDonald's in the parking lot. The way I see it, there are two more likely scenarios. 1) He was never a good lover, since he sucks at everything. 2) nothing has changed at all, and you're just on the supposed fears the dumb phallcocentric meat eaters out there, who, according to your subscription of Huffy Sanctimonious Liberal Douche Quarterly, have rampant, all-controlling concerns that they "aren't doing it right" and would do anything, even move rivers and stop eating at waffle house, to gain even a little bit of confidence in their inner-spring sack.
You make me sick, you look like an iron deficient light bulb from the neck up. Have fun handing out carob treats to tricker treaters dressed as an 11 year old undergoing chemo treatment next Halloween.
Listen lady, I'm happy that you're happy. You're living the dream. You serve the kind of food that tastes like cardboard soaked in rice milk, and it looks like the kind of food earthlings get served on alien planets. You know, where they're all like "... I dunno guys." Moreover, you make so much money exploiting yuppies, you can live in newyork city with a moron. You go girl. Good for you for keeping yourself as far away from the real world as possible. We like you where you are.
Then you come on your ward of the state's documentary and fabricate some likely BS about how your morons penis doesn't do it for your bony ass now that he throws up McDonald's in the parking lot. The way I see it, there are two more likely scenarios. 1) He was never a good lover, since he sucks at everything. 2) nothing has changed at all, and you're just on the supposed fears the dumb phallcocentric meat eaters out there, who, according to your subscription of Huffy Sanctimonious Liberal Douche Quarterly, have rampant, all-controlling concerns that they "aren't doing it right" and would do anything, even move rivers and stop eating at waffle house, to gain even a little bit of confidence in their inner-spring sack.
You make me sick, you look like an iron deficient light bulb from the neck up. Have fun handing out carob treats to tricker treaters dressed as an 11 year old undergoing chemo treatment next Halloween.
Maybe I'll broaden my horizons... ;-)
