BigJimsWornOutTires
Emerald
- Joined
- Feb 6, 2021
- Posts
- 37,745
- Reputation
- 52,145
I might be a subtitled hypergamy sociopath but a specialist in personality profiling. Characters are my nature. I can tell who's full of shit, who's a faggot, who's a bored vagina, and who is like me. A good-looking man with friends and family sees no payoff in flaunting his image for validation pursuits. Or unless you're intel or an investigator needing to acquire the trust of the forum. I don't give a fuck about this community that's mostly amateur catfishers, angry teenagers, and pampered losers that's been lied to. I guess you can say the reason why I participated in this cesspool of gibberish waste is personal, and to be frank, none of your gaddam business.
Now you can take that however the fuck you prefer. Regardless, the continuity of my seductive musculature right now, tomorrow, next week, next month, next year, and so on will never weaken nor be inflicted by shuddered envious lemons that suffer from schadenfreude disorder. My pheromones will continue jackhammering until my last dying breath.
I won't drop the mic this time. Instead, I drop my slacks and slide my boxer briefs down to my ankles and bring the mic to my butt and slowly inject it there. "Ugh." Metaphorically, that is, not in that faggot parity.
If anyone replies with gratitude for my contribution can have that mic. Enjoy it. Embrace it. Seal it up in a ziplock bag, thus containing its forensic aroma. Perhaps, use it as an ice-breaker during gatherings. Let them all sample the byproduct of perfection.
Until then, I wish you all continue putrefying because who you are, must be measured poetically.
Now you can take that however the fuck you prefer. Regardless, the continuity of my seductive musculature right now, tomorrow, next week, next month, next year, and so on will never weaken nor be inflicted by shuddered envious lemons that suffer from schadenfreude disorder. My pheromones will continue jackhammering until my last dying breath.
I won't drop the mic this time. Instead, I drop my slacks and slide my boxer briefs down to my ankles and bring the mic to my butt and slowly inject it there. "Ugh." Metaphorically, that is, not in that faggot parity.
If anyone replies with gratitude for my contribution can have that mic. Enjoy it. Embrace it. Seal it up in a ziplock bag, thus containing its forensic aroma. Perhaps, use it as an ice-breaker during gatherings. Let them all sample the byproduct of perfection.
Until then, I wish you all continue putrefying because who you are, must be measured poetically.
