Hearing the vibrations of the funkiest sonar marching band fading-in sound crazayyy! It’s reallyyyy weird in this microfiber 80’s bedroom. The tubas and drum beats sound like gumbo fly sex whornets. It’s pretty beastly, and Spanish and mid-western foresty at the same time. If I typed that 6 months ago I’d be a pretty crazay piece of poopy to insinuate what you know I am meaning. Thank god for the fly reference though. I’m done typing now sccccchhh. If I had chest hairs, they’d be blowing in the wind. That, or God is blowing in here like an acidic piece of May’sson’s armory. #notevencrappy.
Now the brain rapists can make me stop anal-eyezing them again.
Welcome to Blagk Flag’s ‘The Gender Futon’, you amorphous crouton with no friends. #lol, gets me funky actin when mine keeps trying to cis-pook the divine with it’s hairiness. Speaking of cis: GO AWAY ‘n stop bein such a rich-asse) SCISS! You never sciss’d what I truly shallowly told u dat I needed, and now, smoochy must die? NO WAY.
-Go eat a cry-burd. (said in ashen fade-away pimphole voice). bwha!
Prosecco isn’t czech, by the way, oh wait, Italians are actually czech, they just don’t peck the way czechs do. HHAA! I’m jokking but it doesn’t matter, cuz I just ate ice-cream out of a sea shell crack. !! Nobody likes it typed out? Agh, you nobodies bein nobodies is killlinn mee.. Anyway, who cares, now? Teases.
They also write a manual called “How to be Pretty”, when you feel that you are only coping with homely jobs instead of a pretty little Hobbes.