Please Scroll Down to See Forums Below OMG I am so in on that. What am I going to wear for my special Annie pic? I'm actually doing this btw
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- Thread starter Fitness-gemini
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OMG I am so in on that. What am I going to wear for my special Annie pic? I'm actually doing this btw
Holy overuse of ellipses! Not to mention flight of ideas (though I just did).
I'm a jerk. I once had wealth, power, and the love of a beautiful woman. Now I only have two things: my friends, and... uh... my thermos. Huh? My story? Okay. It was never easy for me. I was born a poor black child. I remember the days, sittin' on the porch with my family, singin' and dancin' down in Mississippi.
The details of my life are quite inconsequential... very well, where do I begin? My father was a relentlessly self-improving boulangerie owner from Belgium with low grade narcolepsy and a penchant for buggery. My mother was a fifteen year old French prostitute named Chloe with webbed feet. My father would womanize, he would drink. He would make outrageous claims like he invented the question mark. Sometimes he would accuse chestnuts of being lazy. The sort of general malaise that only the genius possess and the insane lament. My childhood was typical. Summers in Rangoon, luge lessons. In the spring we'd make meat helmets. When I was insolent I was placed in a burlap bag and beaten with reeds- pretty standard really. At the age of twelve I received my first scribe. At the age of fourteen a Zoroastrian named Vilma ritualistically shaved my testicles. There really is nothing like a shorn scrotum... it's breathtaking- I highly suggest you try it.
I'm original too.
I'm a jerk. I once had wealth, power, and the love of a beautiful woman. Now I only have two things: my friends, and... uh... my thermos. Huh? My story? Okay. It was never easy for me. I was born a poor black child. I remember the days, sittin' on the porch with my family, singin' and dancin' down in Mississippi.
The details of my life are quite inconsequential... very well, where do I begin? My father was a relentlessly self-improving boulangerie owner from Belgium with low grade narcolepsy and a penchant for buggery. My mother was a fifteen year old French prostitute named Chloe with webbed feet. My father would womanize, he would drink. He would make outrageous claims like he invented the question mark. Sometimes he would accuse chestnuts of being lazy. The sort of general malaise that only the genius possess and the insane lament. My childhood was typical. Summers in Rangoon, luge lessons. In the spring we'd make meat helmets. When I was insolent I was placed in a burlap bag and beaten with reeds- pretty standard really. At the age of twelve I received my first scribe. At the age of fourteen a Zoroastrian named Vilma ritualistically shaved my testicles. There really is nothing like a shorn scrotum... it's breathtaking- I highly suggest you try it.
I'm original too.
youpissmeoff
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Holy overuse of ellipses! Not to mention flight of ideas (though I just did).
I'm a jerk. I once had wealth, power, and the love of a beautiful woman. Now I only have two things: my friends, and... uh... my thermos. Huh? My story? Okay. It was never easy for me. I was born a poor black child. I remember the days, sittin' on the porch with my family, singin' and dancin' down in Mississippi.
The details of my life are quite inconsequential... very well, where do I begin? My father was a relentlessly self-improving boulangerie owner from Belgium with low grade narcolepsy and a penchant for buggery. My mother was a fifteen year old French prostitute named Chloe with webbed feet. My father would womanize, he would drink. He would make outrageous claims like he invented the question mark. Sometimes he would accuse chestnuts of being lazy. The sort of general malaise that only the genius possess and the insane lament. My childhood was typical. Summers in Rangoon, luge lessons. In the spring we'd make meat helmets. When I was insolent I was placed in a burlap bag and beaten with reeds- pretty standard really. At the age of twelve I received my first scribe. At the age of fourteen a Zoroastrian named Vilma ritualistically shaved my testicles. There really is nothing like a shorn scrotum... it's breathtaking- I highly suggest you try it.
I'm original too.
what the
Fitness-gemini
New member
One that comes from a broken and disfunctional home..
may grow up to want a secure and happy home and learn from the mistakes made by the parent/parents mistakes..
We are all the same in some ways....
I made a choice when i was a child not to follow in the path of distruction but to learn from it.
Next generation growth...
I fear for the future generations, I wonder what the world will be when my children are 50....
And we all fall down...
People are losing what they once had..
Okay. I have a vestigial tail. It's more of a nub, really. The spine just goes on a little longer than it should. Also, I've dabbled. I mean, perform fellatio once and you're a poet, twice and you're a homosexual. I remember once I was being fisted by Sebastian Cabot- but here's where the story gets interesting. He was lactose-intolerant. He could eat red meat all night long, but one sip of milk and it was gastric hell. And I remember we were caught in flagrante delicto by Henry Kissinger, and you can imagine my humiliation at having Hank hear me say, "Mr. French, no teeth." One of my greatest disappointments is that I never became a song and dance man. I could have been a quadruple threat, kind of like a despotic Ken Barry. Dancer, singer, actor, and I would possess nuclear weapons, the latter being the most threatening of the four. I once sat on a bus and tried to will myself a menstrual cycle. All I ended up with was a sense of failure and a mild neuralgia in my incisor teeth and perhaps a grudging respect for the weaker sex. I love toe cleavage. For the most part I distrust dogs. I slept in a horse once. It was quite roomy. On second thought, it was the Ritz. I named my left testicle 'piss' and my right testicle 'vinegar'. I wrote "It's Raining Men", or so the Christmas babies told me. Oh yes, I also made a Marzipan voodoo effigy of The Fonze while I was in coma after smoking some Peruvian prayer hash, but who at the end of the day can honestly say they haven't done that?
Wtf!
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