Someone E-Mailed Me...

...and wanted to know why I don't write more about myself or put more stuff in my profile. Now, why would I want to drag my hemorrhoid laden ass into your world? You come here to either read shit, you're bored, or you don't have a life and you want to live vicariously through me. THAT would be a big mistake. The people in the links are worth reading. I'm just here to try and make you miserable if I can. I have cancer, my skin is falling off, and if you were to get close to me your life would spin completely out of control, and your first born would be sucked into a Hawking black hole, never to come back. I subsist on about 100 calories a day, 3/4 of which are grapes, in the form of wine. I look like a tomato stake with a t-shirt and a pair of overalls pinned on it. I now cut my own hair because the Korean lady I went to a few years ago at Great Clips couldn't understand the language I speak in my own country and decided I need a butch cut. I did so tonight, and it's equally as good as the job her ass did. I clean my own teeth because the dental bitch cares more about taking afternoons off than learning how to pull a tooth and led me into a three day hell of oral surgery and infection. I take my truck in for service to the dealer because it isn't paid for yet, but will be in February. It'll be the last vehicle I own. It used to be I could do it all myself, but I had access to lifts and such. Trying to do it in the dungeon would be messy. I don't watch porn and never have. If I can't touch 'em, I don't wanna look at them. I have a temper that belies the Big Bang, but very few have ever seen it. That's my demon. I'm stellar at controlling it. I'm as loyal as that adjective can be conjugated (is this a double-entendre)? You fuck with my family, the gun laws go out the window. I don't drink liquor except on occasion, used to drink beer. Now it's wine, because it has cancer fighting elements in it. I still send money to my sons, even though the divorce decree said I didn't have to five years ago. I went to college at a Benedictine monastery in Indiana and had sex with a nun. She's no longer a nun, and I never became a monk. It had nothing to do with the sex. It was the pudding. I wake up every morning at 2:30 with cramps in my legs and toes that have me writhing in pain. If I walk out of the apartment I go into anxiety mode. Unlike you have ever seen. Which is why you'll see my ass at Wal-Mart 5:30 in the morning and the market at 7. My heart goes haywire.

That's about all I'm gonna give up. You have to figure out what's true or not. Should be a fun game.