Nope.
What for? (It wasn't for class, you came back all re-wired), and you deliberately create another trauma-pairing with me, and then run off with Chris again, oh what a load of horseshit, who's your goddam Lodge master? i"m going to fucking have him goddam killed. YOU chose me as The Failsafe.
1. Find the typo.
2. BONUS PTS: Replace the personally identifiable information with PRECISELY EQUIVALENT INFORMATION and still leave me (org. post's author) with a total lack of culpability, either criminal, civil, spirituality, sensually... sexually... Good luck.
You have your mission. And now: I HAVE MINE. Be of good cheer: YOU get to find typographical errors.
I get to find a way to enable the Landshields for passing a ghast/ghost\precocious teleportation machine volunteer to, like... come back to Life, or whatever. Like that time Scotty was trapped in the transporter buffer. That's what I have got going on here.
Do I know how I am going to do this? Oh hell no. And yet, what is important is that I am typing this post in MY Church, in MY Demesne, and I am stark naked with either a human's tail or a Caduceus fragment growing out of my nanotech enabled cock six.
3. That's not a typo: "cock six" is how it is spelled. Name this human body part, found in nearly all highly evolved beings, and then... well, I'm not gonna call it a tail, because it is not "A Streibervision-ready DVR unit", because, I swear to Christ, I'll be nice to him when/if he calls, you dig?
And yet: I am Jack. I am a star. I am a puny star. I am not even a mic star. Look at me, beating on this fucking keyboard like I am the millionth monkey left behind after the 999,999 monkeystar limit was reached at the pinball table. And just as I am digging on this HP ENVY x360 tactile response keyboard--it is a very nice PC, thank you Oma, oh, wait... I bought this for myself, she didn't buy ME anything... except Time.
You need all of that you can ask for more and more, and yet, have I ever? THINK ABOUT THE FUTURE. *show=her=spark*
MISTER GORB-A-BORGA CHEF: TEAR DOWN THIS NO CONTACT WALL. BORK! BORK! BORK!Okay, now you are entertained, right? I just made myself into a Muppet, because I miss you too, but I am, in fact, busy. Working. Pretty much just for You. I'm not even working for Levi. Genes are solid. Wrists are sold. Sovereignty IS HER BEE, AND IS HERE.
And seriously, you gotta check out this alien mold. I think it's part of what has kept this Puny world alive. Like... it's antidote for the biosphere or something. Yah, it's already distributed. I just have to open the door... and blow.
I know, right? Fun times, right? xissssekeks4U
