Very well, where do I begin? My father was a relentlessly self-improving boulangerie owner from Belgium with low grade narcolepsy and a penchant for buggery. My mother was a fifteen year old French prostitute named Chloe with webbed feet. My father would womanize, he would drink, he would make outrageous claims like he invented the question mark. Some times he would accuse chestnuts of being lazy, the sort of general malaise that only the genius possess and the insane lament. My childhood was typical, summers in Rangoon, luge lessons. In the spring we'd make meat helmets. When I was insolent I was placed in a burlap bag and beaten with reeds, pretty standard really. At the age of 12 I received my first scribe. At the age of fourteen, a Zoroastrian named Vilma ritualistically shaved my testicles. There really is nothing like a shorn scrotum, it's breathtaking, I suggest you try it.
( sporters I’m sincerely gratitude to you, Thu 17 Nov 2011, 15:54, 2 replies, latest was 15 years ago)

Shagadelic
etc
(Darth Foxtrot A one-man army dedicated to making fetch happen, Thu 17 Nov 2011, 15:57, Reply)

i dint read it all, good for you tho

(Quintno EXPERIMENT RUINED CANCELLED, LEFT 4EVER, Thu 17 Nov 2011, 15:58, Reply)

Have you ever been outside?

( sporters I’m sincerely gratitude to you, Thu 17 Nov 2011, 16:02, Reply)

i went out for lunch but dint have time to eat cos i was on the phone to my bank
:(((((((((
(Quintno EXPERIMENT RUINED CANCELLED, LEFT 4EVER, Thu 17 Nov 2011, 16:06, Reply)