clarity on the craving

I just want to make it clear that I'd space out the types of pies hourly.

Chocolate cream pie would be hour one.

I think next, for hour two, I'd eat apple. It's kind of one of those checklist pies more then a desire pie.

Third hour, I'd eat the peach slices.

Fourth hour, key lime all the way...

But now I really want chocolate cream pie over all those fucking stupid pies. That's the one I really want.

A WHOLE CHOCOLATE CREAM PIE!

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Danny Bonaduce's Creepy Peen

Image
I'm not sure what's more disturbing, the thrusting jacked sack. Or, his dirty orange palms color coordinated to match his freakpubes leading to the creepiest weepeen I've ever seen. And, I'm not even a size queen. Help me. I can't stop staring at it. Happy Halloweeeneeeee
Read more

If you listen closely as you read this, you can hear me reaching hard to create three, I may have torn a rotator cuff

Image
I come here today my friends not to bury John McCain, but to praise him. To share a tender loving family values snibble of time that I hope transcends politics. You see my friends the presidential campaign trail is long and hard, like a penis, and at one point on that long, hard, soul sucking, maverick busting into party yes man presidential campaign trail, John's loving wife Cindy came up to him, ran her beerlicous fingers through his hair and said, "You're getting a little thin up there." A moment of tender humanity in the loveless inhuman world that is American presidential politics. "At least I don't plaster on the makeup like a trollop, you cunt" Is what John McCain said by way of reply. I'm not making that up. Three reporters witnessed it. God that's hot. I bet they had steaming sex that night. White-hot nuclear powered cuntaramic sex until that makeup ran down Cindy McCain's face like water through a hydroelectric dam. Which means it...
Read more

I am John McCunt and I Approve This Message

Image
Why do I want to be your president? Because goddamn it, I've earned it. Hell, I was an admiral's son, I didn't have to go to goddamn Vietnam, get shot down and deal with all those goddamn sadistic gook prison guards. No, I went because my prick of a father and his asshole of a father were goddamn admirals, for Christ's sake, and I had no choice but to pay off the poker bet I made with them and join the goddamn Navy. And after five years of eating goddamn rats and getting poked up the ass with hot bamboo sticks, then I gotta return to the states to a limping gimp of a wife who got herself fucked up in a car accident and got all fat on me? The cunt ended up with an ass on her the width of a Volkswagen, and after all I'd been through at the Hanoi Hilton, I was expected to come home and fuck that fat cunt? Hell, no! Then I met Cindy, who was hotter'n a two dollar pistol and her dad owned a beer factory. Why did I dump my fat ass first wife and get with Cindy? Bec...
Read more