I need to look up some words. I don’t even know if these are real words. They’re awe-tastic beyond recognition, howevski’s. Oi!
Those songs I put up on myspace are terrible. I can’t even listen to them they’re so bad. Yelly. Bah. Makes me laugh, though. I’m gonna read this all day. It’s a mathematical equation! EYE HAS TEH PROWERRZ!
Hmm. I like this. It’s too bad, though, if the vaginas learn how to make me hard using only text like that, I may never be able to go on twitter in public again. I guess that’s not terrible. I really dislike going anywhere now anyway. What. What do you want.
Word porns. Nerd porns. Gentle absurd porns. Stylized violence, violent styles. Unbridled, coiled passion just waiting to strike. Holy fuck, she wrote it at noon. Oh, I really hope she’s a she. Or at least has a vagina. Whatever. I don’t get the kids’ classifications these days. I take ‘em. Woof. No, that’s it, right there behind the ear. Yup. Leg’s shaking. See that. If you ever give me the chance, I’m gonna make this so worth your effort. Shivvers!!
Yes that, lots of that.
π ⁿ = ❀㎐✿㎑❁㎒◎㎓☯㎔❂
eFucking symbolically independent of timespace can only be expressed in pshew-doh mathematical albregaz. Luv.
Careful what you say to that one, sister. It’s liable to ask you to sit on its lap. Guess how long that takes? Not. Very.
I should go say something on fb, eh?
Why? A friend of mine got his picture in the paper. Well, sure, it says he has an outstanding warrant and it says FRAUD under his name, and it’s not a great picture either. They should let you use a mirror for those shots. I’m sorry, dude. I hope you’re well.
No. Musics. Yes, that.
All you’re allowed to do is fight, using that game you got over there. It’s fucking stupid. I’m not participating in that. Knock that shit the fuck off. You’re as bad as the conservative fundamentalists over there. Quit yelling! Quit dropping bombs on our neighbors and maybe we’ll stop threatening to chop your fucking heads off! Everybody, settle the fcuk down. I think the liquor store is still open. Somewhere. Ah, fuck it.
Torturous sobriety. What ever shall I do. Sleep early perhaps? We’ll see. Bread soon, I believe. That’ll dabble doo-yah! Full warm belly buzz don’t count for nothin’ ya know. I’ve gone days without, and I wouldn’t wish that on anyone. Without alcohol. Then, it’s kinda fun. I’m onena them fruncnktionalll driunkz, tho.
- I really ought to clean my air filter, too.
- Special tool needed: fork.
Now tweeting. It’s 6:16. I want a beer. Wah.