Fatties Wearing Girdles And Stockings

discuss the art of the walls should be elevated to Olympic sport is very horny sheath. The wall, and even more so when it is packed with all kinds of egos, is a tough contender capable of doing any kind of meanness and treachery. Meanwhile, dear wall, I prefer to play the asshole and make you believe you're still the queen of rice and chicken. I will not kill you But I Do not Have to save you . Would you rather I say it in French?

There is nothing more unpleasant than those who shake their nose in public and give off that peculiar fricative and vibrant sound that irritates my ears. I also dislike the people who use toothpicks in the middle of restaurant. Asco!

Although many of my opinions may sound class, I think I made it clear that I am fully convinced that the ranch is worn on the head and not in the checkbook. What pod with humanity!

As you can see, this entry seems to have no rhyme or reason, and without intention to appear more odious than normal, I do not care at all their fucking judgmental. Is likely to have lost power for the short time I am dedicating to updating the blog or, perhaps, the muse has left me once and forever. I offer my sincere apologies!

Meanwhile, not to prolong this torture to write without looking forward to it, I will continue my relentless crusade against the walls. Keep you posted.