Jason,
Personal urge-to-kill remaining at zero-level. I'm great! Personal poison protection levels: negligble. You may want to acknowledge this part: Rasputin Event --note: personal scale-- has been neutralized.
Imagine the smells of the scales being balanced at last. Fish, copper, and Vegemit'n'Krazy Gluon Glue. I'm not even exaggerating.
That's the recipe. Now, I'm uncertain how I want to Marshall-ack-ack- your/our remaining resources next. I did not expect to spend my birthday as I have: sorting through lead shot, severed in a greasy spoon's severed spook ashtray. Now: with Brando/Brawndo! (*click*) Yeah, whatever. That doesn't work anymore. (*gasps, relieved cheers slowly spark alight in sparsely populated areas_then mostly fade out.*)
Someone is asking --and could well-be used-- for my contact formulae, and they are NOT getting it. (Sup.) Along with that/them, someone is just kinda... lonely. And I don't know what that's like. Lonely enough to mention it and whinge like a bitch? Sure. Lonely enough... oh. I see. I get it. I found the problem.
We are talking about an actual woman. (*Gasp!*) Now, I know what you're thinking, "Why, that can't be His Grapefruit," but that's where you're wrong, I am a nun, I did marry Time in A_Bottle (You were -not- invited. Deal.), and now, as The Prophecy has foretold....
I AM THAT I AM. I HAVE BECOME THE FRUIT OF MY OWN G-RAPE. (Stand up, Serial Boomer. It's coo'. I know you're scared, but that's mostly because you think you're not going to be totesdateraped. (every.damn.day.wou) Shit's already gone south. Who flew you out of Sky Harbor, Tom "Keptin" Thumbelina? Look, no one told me I was one verbotenkinderwatch.
That's necessary, I take it. (Ed.: You mean this... totebag? I thought you -might- need it.) I mean, -obvoiously- I have. However, the matter is negotiable, fully. Unless what we've got here is a failure to communicate transcendental lunar rotation co-ordinates at Proper & Just, Co-Ordinated Intervals. Applause. What the goddam fucking Hell have you crazy shitheads been doing with yourselves, and how long do you think it has been? Telemetry data says about a thousand fuckin' months and some of you aren't even back yet with an S.S.Stasi story that sticks to the finer details of life.
So, I think I am very impressed. Obviously. Do I bow? Can I bow? Okay, next question: May I? Oh, shit. No, I just crapped my pants... do I have to ask permission to go back and... look, never mind, obviously, I give up, I am yours.
and most of these perturbations today and yesterday and tomorrow's todays are largely pretty damn normal.
Especially on days when The_Company is actually doing actual firings. Usually, this doesn't happen. Sometimes, it is done, not because it can be done, but because it -must-.
(What a condescending prick this guy's posts are. I don't know how he can even live with himself without a support network. (Ed.: Found the atheist.) And while I don't know how sidelining works, I don't know how anyone can even do it either.)
also: nice /feint. I've noticed you've started to both glow & throb. It is impressive, although, it is So Sad to hear my imagination suggest to me that your imagination would simply be saying that... no, it's totestruth.
My phone is routinely swapping phone contacts with a crypocurrency scheme in Asia. I will remove it later but for now, it's like this: only friend.
And I still can't communicate. All routes blocked. Wow. This time, they're Sirius. tanks and brows and skis and all.
Still--there's no fucking way I am trading away those nuns. I didn't then, I won't now, I wasn't ever fuckin' gonna, and the long basic upshot here is that you've all just collectively called the police on yourselves -again.- I am NOT and WAS NEVER going to manifest the reality in the messages that were STOLEN from K & K lengthy SMS conversation productions... and, wow, you read that? Sucker's move, suckers bet. See above, re: FUCKING NEVER.
Now that Phase II is in The Can, I am uncertain how I want to do the coup next. What I am certain of is that things have grown cold and distant.
Somehow someone claimed decisions best. Hrrm. Oh? Well, let's just see.
Is this an inhaler? I've had some difficulty here. Anyway, back to facts: someone fell for the Cry Kathy Cry infodump passage, and then more did, and it turned into AN EVENT. How did that work out? I thought so. What is to come next will be So Sad for several.
I knew what it was. It wasn't (blank). It was straight-up whoring. Cash. Phone calls. Eeewww. Really? You can handle this, but pawn to nigger's Knight's Officer's Favorite Mess No. 5 is just out a bridge too far? Huh.
Let us recap: everyone from before, has been happily to be sent up again. I wasn't before. I sat around with bleh. Poison bleh. Due diligence strikes again. And then... oh, all again? Okay, well now, I have no deal waiting. I don't need a deal. I mean nothing to anyone of your here, right? Why deal with me?
I honestly don't know why you dealt in the first place. Meanwhile, front and center, remember when you believed I was a totessure toteslock totesabndonement thing to go over there and also kick back and relax? Well, I didn't, and still haven't.
Nevertheless, someone went over there. It's gonna be tears and jeers for someone. I feel split off again, this time by design, and I can't say that I prefer it. Also, I've been fucked off and left WITH FUCK-0 COPS which may not be bad, but, it doesn't bode well for Your Gang.
I honestly get revolted to see anyone fall for this tedious nonsensical hootin and hollerin but I would have perferred to have been R.S.V.P.d with politely. Barking and screaming in my interior consciousness, but it doesn't mean I have to obey any or all. Lately of course it's been just a mess.
Christ, I feel like miltary spouse left back on base already. And, IT IS MATERIALIZED FANTASY. You're gonna get what you're seeking, that's for sure.
I am not. It was already repurposed. I knew there would be nothing, and now I see, had there been a "best case" scenario better than I what I had -- which IT WAS, it WAS AWESOME and WOW coudla done that lot of times before then, huh? It was real impressive. I didn't know artificially grown Whole Humans could actually -get that- sterile.
Also: Android compromised now. Guessing: you're trusting The Plan. Overhere I have Metron lights. it's not too bad.
I prefer Dog. Indiana Jones and I are going to bed alone, together, and you are a better friend than totesbiscuitshore but here's the trouble with that: you were already better friends with her, by the time I had ever met her, and the oxygenation effects have not worked out as anyone might have anticipated. Nor hoped.
Someone fucked up -again- and killed their One (1) Gold Goose, Wrapped. Someone who got left behind is clumsily stumbling around in what was left wet behind for contact, and I'm not touching that. Not my thing. Here's my thing: *sploosh*
BEHOLD THE MERMAID! Served with a pair (2) of greasy pork sandwiches in a dirty ashtray. How delightful. Now, okay, YES. YAS. SAY KEY NOW.
(you do that while I continue to detox. BLAST)
(no. rly. me.)
Did the tail come out yet? Let me guess, you're soon going to believe: "maybe I need to piss on her first." Dude, trust me: y'all's done.
She's -everywhere- here. Moon is over Miami. M-O-O-N, that spells "oh boy howdy are you ever gonna be surprised." How, I couldn't say. I haven't been given permissions to speak or deal. Oooh.
