Maybe get his paws in the plate?
Well, Gerald is no more ordained than Sandy Colfax or John Paul Bonhom. Bastard.
Rhonda hates him too. I have to hold her back. I let her have my detachable penis.
But, long term, Gerald is a necessary cog in my glorious comeback to the internet. You see, I was rudely and secretly banned from the world wide web. Didn't know that could happen? Well, wake up bitch. There are hundreds of us, if not thousands.
Those of us that have become masters of our followers over the interwebings that now douse our trite and tiny land. Those of us in control of what has been determined as too many. Those of us that are artists molding the strongest element of our existence. Time.
Speaking of time, I'm sure Gerald is itching to wring the past out of me. Indeed he has to fill the current hour with something. I may as well fill you in while I'm at it.
I think I was 8 when I first became conscious of the fact that I was different. This revelation coincided nicely with my recognition that my father's habit of sleeping under my bed was a little different too. Oh, he was a good guy, for an under-bed sleeper.
Nothing against under-bed sleepers. I've tried it a few times and I can understand the appeal. Frankly, it's the fault of my waist line that the act became simply too confining. It's just that under-bed sleepers are often considered deviants by our over simplified media and snap-to-judgement contemporaries.
But, I digress. Let's get back to me.
I had a fine childhood and was taught early on that accomplishments through hard work are what builds the character of a man. By character, I mean that essence that makes a man stand out from the drones that count on him for every morsel of needed time the can consume. Filler. The necessary hour drugs. Take-aways and do-overs. Reasons and no reasons, didn't matter. They wanted what they got even if they didn't know it.
Well, Gerald is no more ordained than Sandy Colfax or John Paul Bonhom. Bastard.
Rhonda hates him too. I have to hold her back. I let her have my detachable penis.
But, long term, Gerald is a necessary cog in my glorious comeback to the internet. You see, I was rudely and secretly banned from the world wide web. Didn't know that could happen? Well, wake up bitch. There are hundreds of us, if not thousands.
Those of us that have become masters of our followers over the interwebings that now douse our trite and tiny land. Those of us in control of what has been determined as too many. Those of us that are artists molding the strongest element of our existence. Time.
Speaking of time, I'm sure Gerald is itching to wring the past out of me. Indeed he has to fill the current hour with something. I may as well fill you in while I'm at it.
I think I was 8 when I first became conscious of the fact that I was different. This revelation coincided nicely with my recognition that my father's habit of sleeping under my bed was a little different too. Oh, he was a good guy, for an under-bed sleeper.
Nothing against under-bed sleepers. I've tried it a few times and I can understand the appeal. Frankly, it's the fault of my waist line that the act became simply too confining. It's just that under-bed sleepers are often considered deviants by our over simplified media and snap-to-judgement contemporaries.
But, I digress. Let's get back to me.
I had a fine childhood and was taught early on that accomplishments through hard work are what builds the character of a man. By character, I mean that essence that makes a man stand out from the drones that count on him for every morsel of needed time the can consume. Filler. The necessary hour drugs. Take-aways and do-overs. Reasons and no reasons, didn't matter. They wanted what they got even if they didn't know it.
