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What happened to good old hardcore guitar solos?
I don't fart. I whisper in my panties.
I'm a sexual atheist. I don't believe I'll ever get laid.
My sanity is slipping and only my recluse of a hamster and my two gay fish are witnesses.
Now all I wish I could do is sit in my unders on the couch and play Fallout til my eyeballs actually shrivel up & slip out my eye sockets.
Everyone is crazy and I hate pants.
My head's check engine light is on.
What did Bowser ever want with the princess anyway?
My brain matter is mainly composed of old passwords and song lyrics.
I'm like cat here, a no-name slob. We belong to nobody, and nobody belongs to us. We don't even belong to each other.
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