Does this mean my main bitch ass nigga @maindashore is alive or nah?
I don’t know. Isn’t my problem to figure out.
Well, if it isn’t fat stinking main ho maindashore in poison! How art thou, thou globby bottle of cheap, stinking chip oil? Come and get one in the yarbles, if ya have any yarbles, you eunuch jelly thou!
I am unsure how being in the air force automatically constitutes as being a wasted Scottish slob coming onto one such as trucidator, mistaking them for a sheep in drunken confusion. I would like to say, whatever floats your pathetic half-inflated carved sexdoll pal. But, it wouldn’t be my honest response.
Oh oh oh, so sharp, guile! You’d best sheath that tongue lest it get you lashed in the kidneys, old boy! What’s the matter? Too pent up and lacking a bit of the old, In-out, in-out? You want me to fetch you an abuse prone cow to ease your pain? Something aught to cheer you up, you should be glad I haven’t been hoping the sandmen get you with their rocket tossers, you spineless bastard
Boy, someone sure as hell missed me. Must be something special to for you to keep all that wrath pent up just because I’m not around to be the whipping boy.
It’s okay, you can be promiscuously spiteful of others if you want. I’ll forgive you, mostly because I’m busy with much more important things than to entertain having a hatedate with you.
That’s what you fear most, huh. Me not caring anymore. I’ll be sure to dangle that around for the next few days before jumping back into work. Not so much for either of our sakes, solely because I lack any interesting activities to partake in while on break. It’ll just be for the audience’s pleasure to figure out what all this shit-that’s-going-on is.
I take it that’s why we’re reblogging publicly in the first place, huh.
1.) You’re an absolute cunt for making ME the bitch in this conversation, as we both know I’d beat your pasty ass into the glue you’re held up with. Don’t step out of line, worm.
2.) I wish you were deployed and in Paris, you country serving semi-partiotic faggot
3.) I assumed you were dead for /weeks/ don’t flatter yourself, baby boy 4.) How can we let our fanatics down? Don’t you care how this concludes? We’re a few re-blogs away from tumblr fame and a Disney spin off. Don’t fuck that up for me, bitch. Truci needs Firebird money.
Counter 1.) I don’t need to make you the bitch. You clearly got that covered all on your own. Like you need my help to effectively be a teat-sucking titty wanker. And physically, you can’t kick my ass. Legally too, but I’ll throw it first so you don’t go to the state wham-wham. Counter 2.) “ I wish you were deployed and in Paris[…]” You don’t need “and” in there. “Deployed in Paris” is good enough. Besides, my job is intelligence. I’m too “important” to be placed in hotzones. Don’t care about pride thankfully. All I care about is not being bored, which is why I’m in intelligence. Counter 3.) Refer to Counter 2. Counter 4.) Not really when it gets me money for fucking nothing, so sign me up, cause, yeah, I need a Firebird too.
Why you gotta be such a dick, man
Because I was born to be, raised to be, trained to be, and destined to be.
Gayest comment possible. You loose, sir.
“Isn’t my problem to figure out.“
You missed me, too, bud.
Kinda.
