
It's really good to see your voice, tasting my name:
For your fall pleasure:
A cure for depression.
At the height of my popularity at school and in the glory days of parties, power, and many talents of which you are most likely incapable of possessing, the leader of our strong Warhead Alliance once told me that I would someday grow five condom covered male appendages from my fingers to impregnate willing women at parties or church social events. Five penises on my fingers that is....

......Perhaps you do not understand the time period. This was a time when we were adored, like war hereos wizard dualing the dorks, bedding cheerleaders (the ugly ones), and ruining the careers of poor teachers. This was an age when we mocked the LARPers, when we went to parties and bars, and started fights with Italyans for control of the East side docks and made questionable drug deals for incorrect amounts in fictitious currencies..... These were rough times, times before the storm called the "Real" Life , when we were swindled out of nose candy, but someone, someone named Jesus, got us through it....
Somehow I do not believe your tales of lust and popularity either. Somehow I think your analysis about sports is all wrong. Where are the Jets these days? What about the big cat teams? Why cant the Tigers break it through the 40 yard line and pitch it into the basket by the Woods. Somehow, I think your poetry is all about fishy smells and low volume cell phone address books.
But follow me with this example for a few moments, for you expect alot more out of internet losers with your garbage/creativity and certianly a religious patience to read your time-wasting profiles. I promise you, I only spend a few million dollar moments on my profiles. Besides, I bet you check ESPN.com or fantasy football stats for actual winners a dozen times or more a day, a fraction of the mere moments that it takes to witness the author(s) making fun of themselves here:
It feels so sweet

I assure you, knatty-mc-internet-checkers, the time to write this blog does not excede the 15 minutes I have alotted around sensual orgies, hot sweaty moments....... of learning and typing and picture alterations.
Before you laugh, ask yourself this question: "How many times a day do I need to check an empty mailbox? How many times a day do I have to wait for a comment from a "friend on myspace" or ask "why havent the Weird Al or Aaron Carter bots posted me back on myspace"?
Do you find yourself asking alot of "Why" questions? Maybe its time to re-enroll in religious ed. or He-Man/Sheera 101 at your local community college, at night with an unqaulified and unfocused teacher. Then you'll have some direction. I guess the larger question I am asking about this subject is:
"How many bot friends do I have on myspace- superstars that dont really know who "www.myspace.com/342348985" or "Ineedalottafriends" are? I'd think you were way cooler if you spoke on the phone with Aaron Carter. He did beat Shaq and wants Candy.
In spite of these questions, I think this post will bond all of you together in your criticism, and perhaps get you to stop touching each other for just a moment, at least in your minds..... Wrestling is a sport, I guess.
Coming from the hips of an angel

You've no doubt seen whole stories written on this site. Of course every character is modeled after someone out there, every word intentional, everything done so you check. If you dont, then God Bless You, because if you arent on this site, than you're probably watching Dancing with the Stars or hitting something other than the digits from another human being on your cellular telephone.

So back to a real social life:
Seeing those words it makes me pee
At first I mistook this strange symbolism (five penises on my fingers) as another one of our Fearless Leader's often bizarre outbursts, reflective of the sick and perverse sort of minds that we, adult males, have today. I was in a tough situation with a group of popular people, and unlike internet cyber porn consumers, I had warm bodies nearby.

Unless of course your making little vampire babies because that must be what the whole kinky sex thing is about, that all of your internet time is leading up to.
So vampire makers.....I already told you why such criticism from me is the norm on this site, why the name Warhead was conferred upon me. So heres a chance to enjoy a different type of nickname, one that both mocks me and yet is self-adopted as a symbol of pride of all the sticks and stones, and bones that you use on each other; boners!
On being a warhead
All clicks gets recorded, I know just what and whom have been here. And you all most definately have! ALOT

And I never wanna see goodbye

I digress.....
But Earl you make it hard to be Old Faithful

Your inspiration for this blog...
See, my friends wanted to mock me. They wanted to make me cringe, because I had a big head, I was short, white and nerdy. I was brilliant, I had shredded them and mocked them every waking moment of their existence. I was attractive in a "I want to be part of world wide dominance type of way," for most women have not found out how attractive I can be, when compared to other grunts-that-will-have-to-die-so-I-can-rule, type people out there. They wanted to make fun of me back. This was their time! Or so they thought.......
I never realized that this nickname was such a potent symobol to fellow testosteroine-heavy males such as myself. Where insults are hurled regularly, where meanness prevails and overly sensitive people listen to stupid and whiny music to make up for these problems, these comments prevail.

Our dear leader also had many healthy relationships lasting less than ten minutes with more than enough atractive members of the opposite sex at multiple points throughout the years. My relationships with the milkmaid and the bag lady reached no such proportions.

With the lips of an Bagel
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