Thanks for catching me up to speed about myself and everybody else on this forum that you seem to know so much about, but no, I wouldn't do that.
LIAR
BLASPHEMER
LIER
However, I'm considering leaving ☝️
Oh my God I love you. Look at you, Junior: panting and sweating if you like my behaviors; slashing & burning if you don't. You're The Confidence Moar Mower Man.
You are the specks of fluorescent Day-Glo paint spattered across the matte black surface of our world. By the way, I found you a girlfriend; and don't you f****** dare question me,. Boyo. She's really sweet, I've known her for years, so I can say with no lack of certitude and authority, that there is no question in my mind that you are each other's type.
I haven't seen her for a while, years in fact, but now she's back with ribbons and medals. I didn't mention to her anything about mastermind planning to slingshot/boomerang her over to a close, personal friend who keeps hounding me about how terrible it is that I'm directly stating—I'm not implying, I am directly stating: you want to punch that ticket, and, like,
what,
WHAT? What's your position here? What, you're arguing with me that she's
not attractive? Look at yourself. Look at the pond of denial you're swimming in. Look at yourself again. Now look at the surface of that pond, imagine combining it with photos of yourself, and realize that in that combination of energies, in total, is less statuesque Greco-Roman beauty than Fabio has in his left ear bow. Hell, add the right one too, dice it up with a scallop and some collard greens, if you can find it underneath that haystack mop.
What, who, her, what, why?”
Oh, sure. Oh, right. It's such a mystery! How could
anyone find this (blank)-sized Chef Pot, full up to the brim with—no lie—the
most bodacious of tatas, and while they do not
poke out, they do swell out in a relentlessly golden and increasingly sveltely-curved, gently sloping, begging-to-be-touched Bosom Of Ye God's Blessings, that, I am not going to lie, I have missed the gentle weighty mass thereof.
I think it was the next morning, after Christmas Day, that I found myself gently waking up from nighttime jail-time slumber-time, with my head happening to be resting so comfortably and its particular configuration adjacent to the pillow and the other pillow... Well, they're pillows or pants actually, yeah, that's right: I'm wearing pants in jail, believe me, I asked for battle dress but... well, COVID-NINETEEN.
Anyway, long story short, I was hallucinating while dreaming that I was resting my head on her ample bosom, and I was able to slow my ascent to wakefulness enough that I was able to savor the experience to a degree that made it more or less possible, to not only believe that they were real boobs acting as my real pillows, but I was also somehow able to convince myself that she didn't mind that I was perfectly happy to be sent to jail, and I would be willing to pretend that it was all her idea, if she insisted... but she was going to have to really
sell it if you could catch my drift. Spindrift. Semen.
Whatever.
How does one pay hell?
JUST ICE.
