"What's your sign baby?"
A neon one that says GO AWAY
"I'm just too popular not to have one."
Of course you are-- flies are drawn to excrement. Popularity is a function of how close one resembles cagada.
Miss Clytemnestra! Or is it Hymenestra?
You know I have a facebook page, right? I'm just too popular not to have one.
Ah. . . ah. . . helloo? Miss Evil Gedanken person. Helloo. Are you there?
Hey sweetie. Really missin' you here. Gimme a call some time. I really think you're hot. You and I could make beautiful music together. I bet all the guys tell you this. . . .
Is that a mirror in your pants? 'Cause I sure can see myself in them.
What's your sign baby?
Want some German, English, Irish, Portuguese, French, Random Native American Tribe in you?
Leave me alone, you little fuckhole. I've some serious, ahem, posting to do.
When I finally do go, I want you to know that whatever comes out will be named in honor of you.
At this stage, Dear Gendy, It would be "Bon Merde".
"Okay. . . now I'm yukkie in the bellie. Is it normal to eat 2/3 of a box of pretzel chips along with half a jar of peanut butter and Nutella each? I feel a nasty poopie coming on."
With a stomach lining of years worth of cum from millions of strangers, ou can eat anything. Not to mention the protective coat of ulcers eating their way through your entrails to eat out your nonexistent umbilicus, you irritiable bowel syndromed cow.
Okay. . . now I'm yukkie in the bellie. Is it normal to eat 2/3 of a box of pretzel chips along with half a jar of peanut butter and Nutella each? I feel a nasty poopie coming on.