RickshawFan
Verified Outdoor Recreation Specialist
- Joined
- Jun 9, 2013
- Messages
- 10,916
- Reaction score
- 53,679
Since no doubt we need some fun while getting worked up about appeals nonsense, I thought I'd integrate the group's offerings regarding Jodi's "personal":
"Three hole wonder, 5-10-100 mm, florid liar, looking for a boyfriend/girlfriend match:must be a dildo with a heartbeat who can appreciate an Einstein-gal experienced at wielding a gun and a knife. Working on resupplying my KY—the real stuff, not the stuff you make out of Velveeta with jalapeños—fattening my commissary fund, and ****ling during non-contact visits. Will write letters to your girlfriends, grandmothers, and business partners pretending I'm you. I'm thriving at my current location, my home is newly painted—yes, I even have an ensuite potty/sink (lurve lurve lurve the third hole exposure)—the uniforms are a huge step up on the striped ones at my last position, and I love to be neighbors with the two famous women next door (they're in the newspapers and on TV all the time), so I'm not 110% sure I'd be ready to relocate, but I am an independent catholic school-girl-with-braids type, so if you'd bribe the hater-judge to give me an upgrade, I certainly would reconsider. While they last, I have 18 spots left on my visitor list, so sign-up is rediculously easy. Won't you just love it when I wake you up at 3 am to talk sexy, so I can blackmail you with your sweetness?"
Nothing of significance has happened today or yesterday or the day before or the day before that, so now's your chance, and I mean it. Especially 9-10-12-14-15 year-olds can get in line for phone call privileges, since now that I'm graduated from grownup Mormonism 101 and spiderman panties adorn my fantasies, I can hang out with kids (and adults!) of all ages, and.......if your parents object or you're wanted by interpol, no problem: just get around the system by using a fake name and blame it on Juan Martinez. My bodyguards will understand.
Unless you're a Mormon, I can't (and won't) pretend to take Mormonism seriously except when it suits me. Seriously. I'm a generous gal at heart, and would love to stick you into my heart (hmm privates) forever and never let you go 'til death do you part.
I made a commitment some years ago to rid myself of cravings for strawberry frappuccinos and Cinnabons (a major sacrifice just for you), so I can guarantee a slinky and yoga-limber-headstand-capable-honor-bound You-ness friendship. True, my face is lumpy, my pearly whites protrude, and the grey hair is distorting my princess countenance, but you can blame that on Travis and the Alexanders. I am (oops Freudian slip!) he is so perverted what can you expect?
Too, I'm sure you'll appreciate it when I criticize your grammar, which is almost guaranteed better than yours though I took a cocaine-inspired genius risk in dropping out of high school and delved into gothic-inspired boyfriends and witchcraft and hate my mother and bonked my brother with a baseball bat (he made me do it) and my bestest BFF MDLR gives me the twinkles and the twinkies just depending and my objectionistic pal lurves my professional and Flintstone-Wilma haircut advice, "mimicry is the sincerest form of flattery" but inimitably undoubtedly I said it first doncha know? You will be impressed I did kindergarten twice as well. And I can read: even that b**ch Demarte says so. I'm not just a princess, but a clever one, too!
Ooh, I forgot or not, in a fog or not, but what's a poor gal to do: I can be reached at 028-1129."
"Three hole wonder, 5-10-100 mm, florid liar, looking for a boyfriend/girlfriend match:must be a dildo with a heartbeat who can appreciate an Einstein-gal experienced at wielding a gun and a knife. Working on resupplying my KY—the real stuff, not the stuff you make out of Velveeta with jalapeños—fattening my commissary fund, and ****ling during non-contact visits. Will write letters to your girlfriends, grandmothers, and business partners pretending I'm you. I'm thriving at my current location, my home is newly painted—yes, I even have an ensuite potty/sink (lurve lurve lurve the third hole exposure)—the uniforms are a huge step up on the striped ones at my last position, and I love to be neighbors with the two famous women next door (they're in the newspapers and on TV all the time), so I'm not 110% sure I'd be ready to relocate, but I am an independent catholic school-girl-with-braids type, so if you'd bribe the hater-judge to give me an upgrade, I certainly would reconsider. While they last, I have 18 spots left on my visitor list, so sign-up is rediculously easy. Won't you just love it when I wake you up at 3 am to talk sexy, so I can blackmail you with your sweetness?"
Nothing of significance has happened today or yesterday or the day before or the day before that, so now's your chance, and I mean it. Especially 9-10-12-14-15 year-olds can get in line for phone call privileges, since now that I'm graduated from grownup Mormonism 101 and spiderman panties adorn my fantasies, I can hang out with kids (and adults!) of all ages, and.......if your parents object or you're wanted by interpol, no problem: just get around the system by using a fake name and blame it on Juan Martinez. My bodyguards will understand.
Unless you're a Mormon, I can't (and won't) pretend to take Mormonism seriously except when it suits me. Seriously. I'm a generous gal at heart, and would love to stick you into my heart (hmm privates) forever and never let you go 'til death do you part.
I made a commitment some years ago to rid myself of cravings for strawberry frappuccinos and Cinnabons (a major sacrifice just for you), so I can guarantee a slinky and yoga-limber-headstand-capable-honor-bound You-ness friendship. True, my face is lumpy, my pearly whites protrude, and the grey hair is distorting my princess countenance, but you can blame that on Travis and the Alexanders. I am (oops Freudian slip!) he is so perverted what can you expect?
Too, I'm sure you'll appreciate it when I criticize your grammar, which is almost guaranteed better than yours though I took a cocaine-inspired genius risk in dropping out of high school and delved into gothic-inspired boyfriends and witchcraft and hate my mother and bonked my brother with a baseball bat (he made me do it) and my bestest BFF MDLR gives me the twinkles and the twinkies just depending and my objectionistic pal lurves my professional and Flintstone-Wilma haircut advice, "mimicry is the sincerest form of flattery" but inimitably undoubtedly I said it first doncha know? You will be impressed I did kindergarten twice as well. And I can read: even that b**ch Demarte says so. I'm not just a princess, but a clever one, too!
Ooh, I forgot or not, in a fog or not, but what's a poor gal to do: I can be reached at 028-1129."
