The details of my life are quite inconsequential...

...very well, where do I begin? My father was a relentlessly self-improving boulangerie owner from Belgium with low grade narcolepsy and a penchant for buggery. My mother was a fifteen year old French prostitute named Chloe with webbed feet. My father would womanize, he would drink. He would make outrageous claims like he invented the question mark. Sometimes he would accuse chestnuts of being lazy. The sort of general malaise that only the genius possess and the insane lament. My childhood was typical. Summers in Rangoon, luge lessons. In the spring we'd make meat helmets. When I was insolent I was placed in a burlap bag and beaten with reeds- pretty standard really. At the age of twelve I received my first scribe. At the age of fourteen a Zoroastrian named Vilma ritualistically shaved my *****cles. There really is nothing like a shorn scrotum... it's breathtaking- I highly suggest you try it.




























































I know it fits my personality.
But I was quoting a movie bichnuts <_<

 

He's my type of guy. GRRRR

 

That sounds so familiar but I can't place it =/

 

I would like to introduce you to Austin Danger Powers. *kissy face*

 

Yeah, baby, yeah!

 

I knew I recognised it from somewhere =D I really need to watch them again.....

 

*mega glomp*

 

Why must I be surrounded by frickin' idiots?

Let me ask you a question, and be honest do I make you horny?

 

Throw me a frickin' bone here!

*coughPG13cough*

 

zomg frikin perv. Leave me alone D:

Send in the fembots!!