No shit here. Just balls. All balls and no dick. How can one fuck with no dick and all balls? Think tea. Drink tea and then tee off. Par 3 me please. Cheese makes some people weak in the knees, but for me it just triggers the colon to work in slow motion. I am an addict to panic. Manic some might say... perhaps frantically poltting each day is not the best course of action. If my plan doesn't work I'll be called a bastard. I cast hard looks and cook up schemes for propelling myself inside of others. Tear seams of others dreams and redefine them with your means. Do you get it? Do you want it? It can be yours, but am I a dumbshit for trading it easily? Breezey outside; making me chilly. Please kiss me. I'd be amiss without it. I doubt many things, and some I will shout about while drunk. At which point placing my ass in a box may be necessary. To the contrary of popular belief, I am not just unique but refreshing. Twist the dagger. Twitch. Watch my swagger with a lisp and quick wit. How I can bullshit a quick paragraph of quips into keys to the door in the floor that leads to Ape Cheese.