You have been slacking with your humorous contributions, but I am glad that you are so easily amused. I’m giving you an imperative to be funnier and make hilarious use of your higher IQ. Put up or shut up, porn king!
Nice view from the place I went for dinner, but it turned out to be more drinks than dinner. It was like a catered thing and so they had tiny beef wellingtons, some spinach dip, some pork loin sliders, some chicken, and a shit ton of beer and wine, but alas, no liquor. The beer was good, the food was good, the whole thing was free, and the view and the weather weren’t too bad at all. Good crowd. Had a blast.
Rome wasn’t even the Rome that males fantasize about, it was a sewer with people who wore perfume to cover the scent of their shit. Male romanticism is one of the flavors of philosophy that chaps my hyde in its unrealistic tedium.
Its fancier than say…a ghetto birdbath with concrete kid fishing sitting on it, but maybe not as fancy as the one you’re referencing…degrees man…degrees.
And fois gras is unethical, but it’s also delicious. Definitely better than cat food. One of my biggest motivators in life is the idea that one day I could have to eat cat food to afford some medicine to keep me alive.
Since you refuse to stop stalking me, you are no longer on my foe list for I need to deal with you and your mistakes directly. Why are you so miserable Magnus? And why do you consistently berate me? The fact that you keep pursuing me with your attention reveals that you have an unresolved, psychological deficit that I trigger. Is it that you love to hate me or hate to love me?