Random Commentary

A) Dude, I'm not gonna touch your food. Get the fuck over it. In fact, anything in regards to you I have no interest whatsoever in touching. There is no chance you're going to catch the gay from me, cuz I don't want any of what you're serving today, or any day. And if you're gonna get all bent out of shape because I ducked in real quick to grab a bite for myself, remember this - I helped bring that food to you, bitch.

B) And while we're on the subject of catching the gay - other dude, who thanks god that he's not queer, I thank your god that you aren't queer too. Because I don't want to have to chase your sad ass away from my door every morning, listening to you beg "Oh daddy please I need you! I'm so empty without you daddy, please fill me. Oh please please PLEASE!" Really, it's demeaning. I can't be your pony every weekend, I just couldn't stand the crinkling of the bag every damn time. So thank you white jesus, thank you for not making that redneck peckerwood queer.

C) No, I don't want to play with your bird. At first I thought maybe of darting you for 'research purposes,' but you know, you did kind of come off as creepy. Or maybe I just hallucinated that. I still don't want to play with your bird.

D) On those mornings when I really feel shitty - you know, I've been sick, or maybe I stayed up waaaay too late smoking that crazy hippie weed, and I'm all unkempt and crusty and have to grope around for my glasses so I can see my way to take a piss - on those days, right at that moment, I am still hotter than you are on your best days. And believe me, I'm not exactly purty on my best days, so baby you are downright harmful on the eyes. Get the fuck over yourself and maybe someone will actually like you enough to touch your peepee once in awhile.

E) I swear, if I have to hear one more cheesy brag story about you and your amazing sexual prowess, I am going to barf down your back. It's just so nasty.

[Edit - somehow I forgot one, and I just had to add it in]

F) Okay, let me get this straight - you chat me up out of nowhere, no provocation whatsoever, and you want to know what I look like. I'm not going to pretend that this isn't some cheesy prelude to cybering, but I'm still polite enough to at least provide you with the obligatory profile link. And yet this is not enough for you - you "simply can't be bothered, mate" to do a double click on a fucking link? That's too much for you to manage? Right. I'm sorry, but you've just graduated from mildly annoying cyber goon to completely too stupid for me to continue chatting with. Buh-bye now.