Meh - just you again here lily? God! Get a life you vile old hag.<quoted text>
Hi fats! I'm yawk's minge! Yep, you heard me right. I CAN talk, even though that gross italianate pig keeps me pretty much in a constant state of camel toe what with her garish capri pants that are always at least 2 sizes too small! If I hear her say, "Oim a soize 12 ya know, have been since caw-lege," I swear I'm gonna puke, or at least stain a little.
But now down to business. I've got lots to say being that I'm muffled so much, but maybe I'll just break this up into small bursts. It also helps that the beast has to sleep sometimes, or I'd go made for sure and do something desperate. The gibberish-spouting exhibitionist is always trying to steal my thunder as I fume and stink down here, glued to her computer chair. Little does she realize that I could have made us both a nice living if she'd every stuck, just once, to one of those weight loss programs. Well, to be honest, she must have had a wicked case of acne as a youngster as well, and when Guido gets mad he resorts to cheap shots like "yo, crater face, shutta yer hole," or "iffa youra goin to the gym every day, how comma your azza stay so damma fat?" Guido's off the boat, you know -- even goes to family get togethers in a "wife beater." If it's a wedding, he'll put on a tie sometimes. Sheeeesh!
Anyway, I'm getting off track, so I'll get to you later. Phew, it gets hot down there, and I have too much to get off my mind. Anyway, you're like a minge magnet, I gotta tell you. You're almost too much to -- like some kind of renaissance idiot savant -- the kind who makes folks mad just by being alive. But don't worry, I'll be back (if that jabbering guinea idiot doesn't slam me into some day-glo pink horror immediately upon arising from her coffin!). Don't ask me how I type as she sleeps -- us girls can do lots of stuff you men know nothing about. Sometimes I wish I were a tit; you men are much less frightened of them than they are of us. We're always having to whisper to you, subliminally, "it's okay, big boy; it's what you came out of ... there there, I know it's dark and hairy and a little musky, but it's been like this since the dawn of humanity, and sooner or later, you're just gonna have to dive in ... blah, blah blah ...
Okay, later fatty. Just let me say that you're a miserable liar. That's 'cause you're STOOPID. Stoopid folk don't know when to just shut up and stop gilding the fake lily (the unadorned lie, dummy). They can't help themselves. Leo was right on the money -- the lie about the 5 year old calling herself "shut up kenisha," or whatever, is a total crock -- and thus, gives the lie to everything you claim. You overplay your cheap hand, because you're playing to a gallery of idiots whose IQ's are likely even lower than your own, and you want to look vital and useful -- a taxpayer, dad nab it! It makes you commit honkers such as "You are losers WHOM suck money from the the working taxpayers," and such. That's because you are to Leo as a jackal is to a lioness. Oh, yeah, when you constantly refer to your old ball and chain as "my beautiful wife," anybody who's semi-sentient knows instantly that she's FAT, and uglier than a pile of sh!t before dawn. Did you mean to let us know all this stuff? I know -- you can't help yourself. And that's why I like to come out to play more than I get to. You f***ers are just too much fun!
Later, fatty ...
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