Jack off listening to filthy high tempo disco trash while reading an article about the truth of cheap booze.

Can I develop a fetish for shoes by repeatedly spilling juice while looking at them.

I've just launched a new blog called Perfect Pubes check it out.

I am a chameleon; you walk I walk; you ride I ride; you game I game; when you leave, I wait.

People who do not engage in sex are often confused about whether or not they can talk about it; usually they keep their mouths shut, I am no such person. I am a sexual deviant on the wrong side of the fuck fence.

Pubic hair is making a big comeback. But not '70s pubic hair, that shit is still out.

Trust yourself as you would trust your friends; you may not always agree with the outcome of their decisions but you are always there for them. Perfection is reserved for the deceptive and the deceived.

One of my best friends is a total drop kick.
I want to smash his face in with a brick, I want him to be happy.

This pasta feels like my life right now. Fuckful after fuckful of the same boring fucking taste. Yet I can't bring myself to go and put something more interesting in it.

Today I am not having good anything on my sandwich. My coffee is strong. I want to go on a power trip telling everyone to fuck off, breaking their legs with a steel bar. I want to drive my car into a tree to see what it feels like to be launched through the windscreen, to be painted across the asphalt.