and notion, and right now making me have to poop. Frankie??
Considering the amount of time you are spending fapping one out to porn on the internet, you might consider taking some precautions in case that you die while looking at some midgets or fat bitches going at it on your screen.
Because I assume you are like me and wouldnt want whoever may find your dead body to see what you were looking at, I have:
1: fully encrypted my harddrive with Trycrypt.
2: I have "AMP WinOFF" set to shut down the computer after 90 minutes of inactivity.
My, but that was entertaining, wasn't it?
Gilles Lupien was a massive hockeyist who iced it up for the Montreal Canadiens in the 1970's.At 6'6"(that is 6'9" on skates)Lupien towered over other players.He did not have much of a career,but is now a successful agent for many players Robin Hood sat in a hotel room in Mexico, smoking a cigar, still not wearing any pants. The sign said no smoking, but he didn't care. He already took the batteries out of the smoke detector. He turned on the television, and watched a high speed chase taking place. The cops were chasing after someone who had stolen a cop car and was racing down the highway in the wrong direction. The car turned off the highway and headed down the road, towards a Best Western Hotel.
The driver lost control of the car, spun out and slammed into the side of the hotel. At that point Robin Hood heard a loud crashing explosion sound coming from the ground floor of the hotel. He jumped off his bed and ran downstairs to see what was happening.
There were about 5 cops with guns drawn, facing a car which had just crashed into the side of the building. The car was on fire, with too much smoke around to see inside.
"What's going on here?" asked Robin Hood.
"A fugitive stole one of our cars and crashed it here. He should still be inside. He should be considered armed and dangerous," One of the cops replied. Robin Hood walked over to the burning wreckage and peeked inside. He saw a man hunched over the steering wheel in a cop uniform, blood dripping down from his forehead.
"He's dead," proclaimed Robin Hood.
the biggest problem you and everyone else has is the fiery ball in the sky. all this other shit is inconsequential in the long run. soon you and everyone else will be impaled on a fence. then you and everyone else will crap each others pants. and die. THE END
"this story makes no sense" mr blobby said to satan, as they hoovered up the last of the remaining cornflakes from the carpet.
There was a knock on the door. "This is the police! Open up!"
"I'm sorry, but do you have a warrant?" shouted Mr. Blobby.
"No, we don't! Open up now!"
"You'll never take me alive, coppers, you hear me?!" screamed Mr. Blobby. And he wasn't bluffing, either, because he proceeded to cram a handful of sleeping pills into his mouth, impale himself on the baby fence that he kept in the kitchen doorway to keep his Schnauzer, Fuckshit, out of the trash, and then crap his pants. And die. THE END
Except it wasn't. THE END, that is. The cops used their chainsaw on Mr. Blobby's front door and gained entry. Once inside they located his computer and were able to see the what Mr. Blobby was watching while he spanked it.
I sure do hope that you are in therapy and taking drugs for your very apparent mental challenges. If you are then they are not working. Enjoy rocking back and forth, gnashing your teeth and spying on people's computers. I do think that you'd be happier if you would stop wishing that you were a man and revel in the fact that you are a fat homely old retarded bulldyke alcoholic instead. God bless you.
I was lifting up my pants and my Glock 22 fell out of it's holster and into the toilet. It was covered in stool. I washed the exterior off as best I could; thankfully no one saw me or knew what happened.
As soon as I could get to the range, I tested out the gun to make sure it still worked. I fired a .40 caliber turd 25 feet and hit the bullseye dead center. The guy next to me had his chronometer on, and said it left the muzzle at 850 fps. He then offered me some sleeping pills, on which we both overdosed.
I'm sorry that you were abused. I'm sorry that you have mental problems. I'm sorry that you are not male. I'm sorry that the drugs and therapy can't help you. I'm sorry that you get anxious, panicky and sweaty. I'm sorry that you're afraid to leave your tiny trailer. I'm sorry that this is all the attention and acknowledgment that I can bestow upon you right now. Try and get some peaceful sleep tonight to gain stamina for talking to yourself all weekend.