Mar 01, 2010 20:42
Marcello’s friends suck. Then go talk to her. Say “hey…” and stare at her all creepy like. And then proceed to ask for her number, and for leverage say “I’ll give you mine…I write poetry.” And then beat that guy up for looking at yo’ woman. “Albert says whaaaat?” u bitch.
The search for spirirtuality is a prevalent theme in La Dolce Vita smells like gourd-like porpoise tubules. It’s an amalgam of pretty words. I asked this chick what she was doing with my man. She said, “Sniffin”. You bitch. I once held an opponent’s hand in a jar of acid at a party. Burned that shit up. The host asked me for pleasurable mouth touches. I said fuck it. Marcello is a man of many words with little meaning. Fuck that shit. Marcello smells like the taint of a wild goat. Strawberry banana smoothie. What a rush to fuck the best of the best. MARCELLO!!!! Shit’s weak. Madalena was a whore. And she knew it. But she just kept on fuckin’. Christ is lord. And he had a beard. It’s your turn to be Judas, Madalena. You lying sack of equine excrement. Ah shit I’ve got nothing. Windows with jizz on them. And Kate Winslet’s hand smear. Fuck that large ass ship. What up LEO? Nothing.