An Emblazonment of Quirkiness From My Lascivious Wheels

Gah! That was fucking brutal. "Y'all is brutalizin' me!" I was feeling sleepy but also feeling like too much of a sluggard to get out of my chariot and onto the plush that is my bed, so I tipped my moving chair back onto my bed.. Laying there, I felt a little twinge of randiness. Fantastic! So, while I'm in my chair, I rub my nastyville until I get that rockin' happy time when the devil and goo escape from your twat. I orgasmed, making my legs become rigid, and those said legs had been dangling beneath my wheelchair frame, which is metal..titanium, to be precise. So, the rigidness of my lower appendages caused them to push against the stationary wheelchair frame. Gish! I could do nothing.. i was amidst my delightful orgasm, and my legs were sure as fuck not going to relax. Basically, so good yet so bad.

My sister told me, today, that years ago, some drunk ass lady that boned her boyfriend's friend, said this whilst he was banging her. Hahahahahaa! Rock! Butthole pleasures via the seminal sack.

Whilst sitting atop my stationary bike, having finished riding and guzzling water out of my water bottle, I had a sudden epiphany: Write Richard Ramirez a letter while he rots in prison. "Who is Richard Ramirez?", you ask? A serial-killer. Awaiting death in the gas chamber. He is not your ordinary wrongdoer, though. He is fucking gorgeous. God may or may not have sent him directly from Heaven. See? Look at that facial structure! Shit! If I could have him as a humunculus, I'd be happy. I could stuff him in my undergarments, and force him to pleasure me. "This is what you get for spilling that blood! Tickle me, andd you're forgiven.", I would say. My imagination went as follows: I would write him..maybe he would marry me..we'd have multiple conjugal visits..the end.
And, blast! The coming true of my dream was botched. Wikipedia tells me that he wrote back and forth with some wench and married her, all from prison. Crafty. My fantasy will never come to fruition, now! Hellllllllllloo, Bean Brutalizer of Buzz!

Please? I want to know everything. YOU WILL MAKE ME KNOW EVERYTHING! I got two new books, today.. from a bookstore that is closing, so everything was half-price. Fucking sweet! It's a shame there wasn't a bordello going out of business overflowing with filthy, disease ridden male and female prostitutes.. ALL FUCKS: 50% OFF. What a mirthful time that would be. I've never payed for a weiner insertion, but fuck, that's a deal! A man at the bookstore approached me on his leggy legs to tell me about a scuba diving group called Eels On Wheels. He said, "It's full of people like you!" So funny! Oh, you mean retards?!?!?! I love it. Reminds me of Wanda Sykes on Curb Your Enthusiasm.. "YOU PEOPLE?!?!" Oh, how I adore political incorrectness! I'm glad I find it risible, because if I didn't, I would always be pissed. And who loves an angry retard?! Nobody! Well, humans don't love retards regardless, so I guess, be mad all you want. Just kidding. Kind of. Everyone loves a retard! No? Normies are just dying to pat tards on the head! But, really, where's my fuck jam?

I can clean my apartment in my birthday suit and tard boots if I want! Fuck off! Rolling around on my wheels o' fuck whilst Swiffering might be my favorite thing to do. Rubifying your lips in fancy sauce makes it even better!

It's constuprate, not constipate. I love my new dictionary book. It's full of crazy Shakespeare words. It basically makes me want to flog my lady.

So, I just stumbled on the treadmill, after a week and some days of not. That fucking sucked! I knew it would. While I'm trying to walk, I count my footsteps or say "right, left..." A little biofeedback, on my part. It works well, usually, when I have done my walking consecutively over my swanky days. Not today, though. "1, 2, 3, Boom!" "1, 2, Boom!" "1, 2, boom, 'That fucking hurt! God damnit!'" That was my thrice attempts... The "boom" was me falling. On my knee-pads. But the third fall, I ended up on my gut, and when I tried to get up, the key that connects my panties to the treadmill, so if I fall, the key comes out and turns the treadmill off, to prevent a dirty and unnecessary disaster involving rubicund liquid. So, I'm on my stomach, and the plastic key is between my crotch bone and the treadmill belt. Motherfucker! Alas, I will try again tomorrow. I'm going to show you little people! Err, myself?