I possess unplumbed depths of mystery, wonder, and terror for those brave enough to go spelunking in my dark places.
I don’t think that’s an anal sex joke.

I possess unplumbed depths of mystery, wonder, and terror for those brave enough to go spelunking in my dark places.
I don’t think that’s an anal sex joke.
Mars takes things too personally.
Jupiter thinks your planet is for chumps.
So far, I’m not totally hating this. Neither am I pledging eternal fidelity. One thing I learned during my heartbreaking Vox break-up: every social blogging website, no matter how shiny and new at first blush, will eventually age into a worn-out, cynical ball-buster.
But, whoa, this is all spiffy and unspoiled!
These are the thoughts that run thought my head whenever I tell a young woman on the Internet, innocently enough, that a photo of her is pretty. Which thoughts run through hers? I fear the imaginary scenario is something similar to the above, and not in a hot, silverback-fetish masturbatory fashion.
You should know, ladies, that when I flirt with you, I’m experiencing a crisis of self-doubt. You should take pity on me, preferably through the sending of nude photos, which I can then compliment in a more personal manner without the risk of social awkwardness.
According to this Burger King cup art, Coca-Cola literally pours down from heaven, so the next time you enjoy a frosty Coke, be sure to slaughter a lamb to thank your maker for such a refreshing gift.
I’m assuming nobody in the history of tumblr has ever thought of making that joke ever before, right? I must be the first person to come up with that, ever. Ever ever ever.
Anyway, I’m doing this now. It seems pretty simple, and it has a nice social aspect that reminds of of the late, lamented Vox (yes, I know Vox technically still exists, but as a buggy, ad-laden shadow of its former glory). I don’t know how often I’ll post here: let’s just see how everything shakes out.
The theme will probably change several times as I try out new looks. I apologize ahead of time for giving anybody a headache.
If your children are 9 or 11, fuck those kids, we don’t want ‘em. Only the tenderest 10-year olds, please.