Is it me or is it a country state of mind up in this motherfucker. Yeah like that yankin twangin steel guitar and big tittied hookers in cowboy hats with muff to get stuffed....wait thats a hillbilly stripclub....well if they could be full nude. Which down here, they most certainly cannot. Now before you get all started saying the premier provayer of everything saintanic in your life goes to the shake joint....I don't.
Oh where to begin...is this a clean romance fiasco? Or some kind of broken down and vulgar fuck flick straight out of the John Holmes and Seka age of film? I opt for door number three Bob, the one where you die at the end. No no but seriously I don't know where that came from....maybe its from the soy milk and racism I dine on before work every day. Or maybe its all the white rap I blast in my Cadillac and Black women I date, you tell me. And no this isn't opposite day...that's some real kindergarten shit, this is as it was because it is.
So I'm just gonna come out in this one naked like Joseph Starlin and on fire like a cross at a protestant church. No not really but the imagery probably got you didn't it? Or maybe not if you have been with out for more than two days, its probably passe now like anus worms and deformed brain stems. So this one is probably off kilter even for me....but like Charlie Sheen sleeping with Helen Keller Im still Winning, simply because here in this corner of the world....Im just not gonna admit to loss.
So I was wondering...what body type entails the freakiest people....women being of primary interest of course, if you want men google it yourself your fingers aren't broke if you navigated your sausage eatin Simon and Simon watchin ass here. But its doesn't say, well not in the first result so I'm outie like Vanilla Ice on a balcony, hey get the shit right the first time or fuck it go home.
About The Author
Your Saint For Suicide as seen on Blood Into Blog.