& they will not be goods.
But, I'm not a cat with cheezburger pleez because everytime I see a link to sd cheezburger cat or whatever the hell that shit is I go to an alley and perform a backdoor abortion just for fun.
Placentaz are yum.
& why do men think I love them just because I'm their friend and read their shit and drive them around to wherever they want to go? Maybe I just want to be your friend; maybe I'm using you for some kind of insight into the male psyche whatever but being an asshole is not a subversion of the Man. & maybe I am attracted to you & I will never tell you & it will be the most awkward greeting hug in the history of greeting hugs. & if I say I'm going to have sex with you I probably will, unless you don't buy me that drink or whatever...and if you were scared of me before, you better not dangle the opportunity of sex in front of me and then sidle away like a pussy...
That's my tough talkz; I am in the Kentuckyz; I'm reading about a quilt. Businessmen in the Kentuckyz love the high knee boots. Believe it. They're not like the Alabamaz businezmen who like the sorority girls in their little heels and their prom dresses and the promise of pom-pomz and pigtails later.
Cause even though itz hot, nobody better try to pigtail me.
I had so much more to say but I lost it between gutting the peppers, blowing the businezman, and opening the can of enchilada sauce.
Oh, and I have a story about the South coming out some time in Wigleaf that might make sense of this all. &/or it might offend Confederate Cowboyz and Witch Hunters...
Yourz in mole,