AG: I don't see how we're supposed to 8e 8ecoming friends if you recoil from my olive 8ranch like I'm twitching a mummified 8ovine phallus in your direction.
CG: BECOMING FRIENDS, WHAT THE FUCK.
CG: WE WILL NEVER BE FRIENDS, MORON.
AG: Not even h8 friends?
CG: NO. MORE LIKE TWITCHY EYED PROJECTILE VOMITING IN UTTER DISGUST FRIENDS, WHILE I PERFORATE MY BONE BULGE WITH A CULLING FORK.
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a several thousand limbed, flyaway, dark brownish-red, hairdresser eater...BEGONE!
Posted 12-31-2007 at 03:56 PM by scrab queen
Happy new years to everyone on the vast interbutt.
My mom held me down and killed the demon in my hair. Now I have guys staring at the two feet of silk dangling from my melting scalp. It hurts like hell, but...YEEEEEEAAAAASH!! I feel slightly less ugly now!! TAKE THAT SOCIETY! Anyway, i'm stuck at the house with grandma and all her old people friends while they play canasta until after midnight. When they fall asleep after the wheel of fortune marathon, I'll draw on them with one of those huge, austrailian beercan, poo smelling markers. What kind of parties are/did you attend(ing)? |
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Recent Blog Entries by scrab queen
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