My blog obsession is far more important than your Second Life. So stop bogarting all the motherfucking bandwidth, assface! However, if your virtual DJ in your virtual bar keeps spinning wicked shit like The Timewarp and Ballroom Blitz, I might rescind my snark. Oh, and also, if you go to the store again for dinner while I’m stuck with a toothy toddlerette vaccuum sealed onto my boob for an hour, and you come back home with a freakin’ steak and one bloody potato, you may be shot on sight.
P.S. I love you. Thinking of daisies just made me remember when you called me “flower” for a short while when we were dating.
I’m going to crash now, and blissfully. Good night, yntaurnehtz. I’m pooped, so pooped.