laowlaowpantz

photographer at free kegger party tonight.  6 am banquet serving shift tomorrow.  that’s how i roll.

now if you don’t mind.  shoo.

-mlv

how do you people do it?  are you really writing what’s on your mind?  or are you writing to support an image you want associated with you?  this blogging shit is fucked.  not to sound dramatic, but this is baring your soul on the screen.  EVERYONE CAN SEE!  how do you do it?  maybe i’m fucked.  of course i am.  but, we all are- right?  maybe i’m proud of it.  *shrug*.

this is why i thought that blogging was a bad idea for me.  i won’t stop though, it helps to get me through the day.  i think that’s why we all do it.  but it’s difficult to beat around the bush.  i’ve been ‘baring my soul on the screen’ for years.  i had to stop.  it was too much.  all these ideas, large and small, i had to get out.  but only in whispers.  sometimes i had to scream.  but you don’t want to hear that.  not only does it hurt the ears, but i like to think that you think i’m a pretty decent dude.  neither here, nor there, but somewhere fun.

i had the time of my life paralleling eating nanaimo bars and yamming snatch.  exagerrating, of course, but i wasn’t lying.  does that make me a pervert?  or rude and indecent?  i can’t tell.  these are just my thoughts man.  after i wrote that, i’d be working or lazing around the house thinking "oh god, they think i’m weird.  or i’m in the closet.  or just looking for attention.  i sound desperate.  like a cry for help:  ‘please, i’m lonely, let me eat your pussy.’"  *shaking head*.  no, i know. 

maybe if i blew it out of porportion.  if i said i liked to spit in chick’s assholes and slam them till they cry; you’d believe me wouldn’t you?

maybe if i just wrote puff pieces.  talk about the beautiful sunrise over the mountains.  or how the pretty girls in toronto dressed in the fall.  or how drugs are bad.  you wouldn’t read that bullshit would you?

i’m through with you.  leave.

-mlv 

i love nanaimo bars.  they are those desert things.  i don’t want to describe them, just google that shit:  nan-ai-mo bars.  anyway, i love them.   savour that shit.  i take a piece, place it on my tongue, close my mouth so the layers sqwish,  let it sit.  almost until it melts.  i let the chocolate fuse with the sweet ass creamy centre.  when it’s pretty much melted the coconut starts fuckin with my emotions.  the grit of the coconut and the creamy chocolateteeness starts making love in my mouth and i start rolling my eyes back and spinning my head like i just got punched in the face, cartoon style.  finally i swallow.  a passing out feeling ensues.  my tongue has a certain sensitivity for decadance.

this happens with chocolate, fruit, candy, sometimes donuts.  pussy.  depending on the natural hygenic quality of the chick’s slit.  i love to yam pek pek.  (black dude’s are throwing up all over the place.)  seriously though *shrug*.  my enthusiasm for snatch rappin’ results in a particularly high quality service for the lucky lady.  *shrug*.  i’m usually modest.  really though, a chick can’t do better than a dude (or a next chick) that savours good-clean punani like i do my nanaimo bars.  i like my desert before and after supper.

pussy is like strawberries.  good on it’s own.  better with condensed milk.

*slurp* 

i need a nanaimo bar that can boogie to drum n bass.

away with you!

-mlv

i don’t know if i should start this shit.  i have issues with blogs.  i hate meeting people in the real world and  the thought that they know more about me than i would’ve cared to tell them.  when i’m up on these things i type away like i’m writing a friend.  you ain’t my friend though.  well, it’s up for debate.  anyway, i guess i’m just insecure.  but you don’t need to know that.

now, be gone dear reader.

-mlv