I noticed I felt like my mom each time I would find wrappers left behind of things I bought in the kitchen for her to eat. First thing she did when she got back was to run to the cookies and eat one in front of me with a hurried gluttonous smile. I have no room to speak. She's not my girlfriend.
look at how much mileage you guys are gettring with my perversions and sadness, my mind's a goldmine. No, you freakin hobo, I'm not hearing voices—they are trying to communicate with me through youtube, and websightes, and naughty ones, im not too sure what to do when i get riled up huah hauh hauh hauh hauh hauh hauh hahuh ahuh hauh hauh hauh hauh ahuh hahuh hauh hauh hauh hahuh
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