Well. I did it again. I got sheared. Scalped. However, you may put it. Will slip into weirdo with a buzz cut mode yet again. But this time, no cigarettes, no bullshitting. Just the vague bitch thing. Gosh, Goshel, I'm done with making sense. Have every intention to dramatize my drama paper with all sorts of Freudian slips and anything and everything to do with sex. Gawd, they were all whores anyway - from Macbeth to Lady Teazle. But I love them. I love whores, I love bitches, I love every fucktard in the fucktarted world. I fucking do. Cause, I'm sheared, scalped, whatevered and made to look like a rebel without a cause (which I swear I'm not - I'm a content capitalist pig, yessir).
I think they might just have snipped a bit o' my brain, while they were at it. Retards.
I love frosted cornflakes.