Heaven help me, but if you're the same, useless, cum-guzzling wench that keeps pasting the same trite, useless fuck-all crap I have to scroll past in the beginning of each fresh bread…
…breathing…
…I hope to God I somehow find you at the Parade, so I can throat-punch your sorry ass and–literally–shit on you right after having beers and high-fives with MEN.