dave: write in journal
heres the thing i dont get.
we kids finally ripen into third years ready for some omnipotent muse god of academia to pluck us from the tree of rudimentary bullshit. as she - or he maybe i dont fucking know. yeah probably a he. we live in a goddamn patriarchy, a sasuagefest run society, no homo or nothing. so anyway theres some dude with the stature of a well oiled body builder living out in the heavenly clouds up there with his fucking blood vessels strained about-to-burst getting his shrunken genitals all excited to introduce us into a world of opportunity. like shit you havent seen before son, fasten your broombelts cause otherwise youll be blown the fuck away.
this man-dude-god, his long mane of godly beauteous vaguely effeminate manhair tumbling down his shoulder blades all akimbo, is all careful not to bruise our savory flush skin as he handles us in his celestial sweat stained fingers, so fuckin set to take a chunk out of our yearning, awaiting, trembling brain ooze. cue the swell of a touching music score. he presses us to his pursed lips. the flood gates open. penetration is eminent. he takes that first bite. pants are ruined. we hit thirteen, and all sorts of new classes and shit are made available to us impoverished children who were previously barred from their limitlessness bounty.
but jesus i dont remember seeing any advertisements for nothing. way to leave us hanging.
what is there? care of magical devilbeasts? thats like falling off the tree of rudimentary bullshit and falling into a pile of monster shit. its a never ending cycle of steaming fecal matter and were stuck in the backwash.
which is basically the summary of that class wrapped in a pretty green bow. so fresh, so natural. al gore would literally piss himself with how natural were being up in this bitch.
so yeah whatever arithmancy is alright.
we kids finally ripen into third years ready for some omnipotent muse god of academia to pluck us from the tree of rudimentary bullshit. as she - or he maybe i dont fucking know. yeah probably a he. we live in a goddamn patriarchy, a sasuagefest run society, no homo or nothing. so anyway theres some dude with the stature of a well oiled body builder living out in the heavenly clouds up there with his fucking blood vessels strained about-to-burst getting his shrunken genitals all excited to introduce us into a world of opportunity. like shit you havent seen before son, fasten your broombelts cause otherwise youll be blown the fuck away.
this man-dude-god, his long mane of godly beauteous vaguely effeminate manhair tumbling down his shoulder blades all akimbo, is all careful not to bruise our savory flush skin as he handles us in his celestial sweat stained fingers, so fuckin set to take a chunk out of our yearning, awaiting, trembling brain ooze. cue the swell of a touching music score. he presses us to his pursed lips. the flood gates open. penetration is eminent. he takes that first bite. pants are ruined. we hit thirteen, and all sorts of new classes and shit are made available to us impoverished children who were previously barred from their limitlessness bounty.
but jesus i dont remember seeing any advertisements for nothing. way to leave us hanging.
what is there? care of magical devilbeasts? thats like falling off the tree of rudimentary bullshit and falling into a pile of monster shit. its a never ending cycle of steaming fecal matter and were stuck in the backwash.
which is basically the summary of that class wrapped in a pretty green bow. so fresh, so natural. al gore would literally piss himself with how natural were being up in this bitch.
so yeah whatever arithmancy is alright.