It's about the love, not the hate. We're all supposed to be on the same team here guys. I don't want to get rid of anyone, I love reading all of you guys' stuff, otherwise, I wouldn't have you post. Ryan said it well if anyone is interested in discussing this. Today's topic is one inspired by the arrival of new fodder here in the Windy City.
Cracker is young and beautiful with a body ya just wanna rub hot oil all over.
The hands of time carry a toolbox and with each passing day the chisel and hammer come out with no other purpose than to crack that smooth, boy-like skin into a mass network of worry lines and broken hearts, not to mention all the booze and drugs you've yet to discover and consume like a fly on a fresh horse turd. And also in this tool box is a crowbar, but this is for the solely for spreading those virgin like buttocks of yours and pumping you like a Texas oil well. This rant comes not from bitterness and sour grapes, but I think from a good jolt of mid life crisis. You've just turned 37. An irrational flash of my own mortality, but intense nonetheless.