A glock has needs.
Just kidding, I didn’t tell her shit.
I was going to say something hilarious about the correlation between a fictional vampire and the Wu-Tang single “Protect Ya Neck”, but I’m really busy with proliferating the spirit of bond-diversification right now.
This has happened to me. Today. Because I like my documents like I like my emotions—sensitive and unavailable.
My stance on political policies about dominating gun controllism bikini.
Got the C.R.E.A.M.
(Source: mephlab)
Don’t cry, there’s always this.
These clouds are on my lawn. I know they are on my lawn because there are skylights throughout my home with which I can monitor errant clouds. This is extremely futuristic. I am a hacker. (Taken with instagram)
Today’s installment of Gangsta-Ass Monday focuses on education and shit. This instructional video will show you how to become an instructional hustler. Bitches will listen to you. Bitches will follow your directions. It’s like Simon Says, but for bitches.
[Author’s Note: Bitches and cars.]
This is very upsetting. I told her my name and location; she told me her marital status and profile URL. We were building rapport. It felt like we’d known each other for years. I couldn’t imagine a life without her spiteful horny.
I trusted her.
She signed off, and hasn’t spoken to me since. Her scent clings to my dynamic multi-platform instant messenger client. I am inconsolable and probably Zuul, possibly The Gatekeeper, but mostly inconsolable. Maybe The Highlander. Stop trying to change the subject. What’s important here is that I live on a fucking volcano full of orcs, and my penis can’t use the Internet.
I needed her.
Getting a hot and hexy lap dance. (Taken with instagram)
