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You do the same thing every Sunday.
You grab your wallet and your keys and kiss your wife and tell her you’re going to Staples for office supplies.  
You aren’t lying.  
You have every intention of going.  
You need to buy a bulletin board, one of those fancy ones that are half natural cork surface and half dry-erase board.  
You think this will fix everything.  If only you could just keep your thoughts organized.  Write them down.  See them laid out.  Be able to take a step back and take a look at your goals to see them as a series of small, manageable tasks.  Right now it all seems too much.  
You feel more uncomfortable in your own skin than a Puerto Rican does at a job interview.  
You drive past Staples without even realizing it, but when you do, you keep going. 
You drive and drive measuring time by the sips you take of that Templeton Rye whiskey-filled stoneware coffee mug your son David got at the Renaissance Fair.
You love your son, David, no matter how many family dinners he’s ruined by talking about dragons. 
You pull over and park your Pontiac by the reservoir where all the women go to jog.  
You leave the engine running and tune the stereo to a local AM sports talk radio station and set the volume just soft enough that you can’t make out the words yet just loud enough that you can’t hear your own thoughts.
You unbuckle your pants and pull out your old gross goblin dick and time your strokes to the beat of the runner’s footsteps.  Just as the freckle faced mulatto girl with the dad calves makes her second lap and you come like the mail.  
You clean up the oily dick sick you just disrespected your steering collumn with using a napkin found in a discarded Wendy’s bag from under your passenger seat.  
You treated yourself once tonight.  Why not treat yourself again?  
Treat yourself to Wendy’s new hand-cut and panko breaded North Pacific Cod Premium Fish Fillet Sandwich.
You come home.  Your wife asks you why you didn’t get the bulletin board. 
You tell her the one you wanted was out of stock.
You tell her you’ll try again next week.
You do the same thing every Sunday.
 
 

You do the same thing every Sunday.

You grab your wallet and your keys and kiss your wife and tell her you’re going to Staples for office supplies.  

You aren’t lying.  

You have every intention of going.  

You need to buy a bulletin board, one of those fancy ones that are half natural cork surface and half dry-erase board.  

You think this will fix everything.  If only you could just keep your thoughts organized.  Write them down.  See them laid out.  Be able to take a step back and take a look at your goals to see them as a series of small, manageable tasks.  Right now it all seems too much.  

You feel more uncomfortable in your own skin than a Puerto Rican does at a job interview.  

You drive past Staples without even realizing it, but when you do, you keep going.

You drive and drive measuring time by the sips you take of that Templeton Rye whiskey-filled stoneware coffee mug your son David got at the Renaissance Fair.

You love your son, David, no matter how many family dinners he’s ruined by talking about dragons.

You pull over and park your Pontiac by the reservoir where all the women go to jog.  

You leave the engine running and tune the stereo to a local AM sports talk radio station and set the volume just soft enough that you can’t make out the words yet just loud enough that you can’t hear your own thoughts.

You unbuckle your pants and pull out your old gross goblin dick and time your strokes to the beat of the runner’s footsteps.  Just as the freckle faced mulatto girl with the dad calves makes her second lap and you come like the mail.  

You clean up the oily dick sick you just disrespected your steering collumn with using a napkin found in a discarded Wendy’s bag from under your passenger seat.  

You treated yourself once tonight.  Why not treat yourself again?  

Treat yourself to Wendy’s new hand-cut and panko breaded North Pacific Cod Premium Fish Fillet Sandwich.

You come home.  Your wife asks you why you didn’t get the bulletin board. 

You tell her the one you wanted was out of stock.

You tell her you’ll try again next week.

You do the same thing every Sunday.

 

 

11:41 am, BY dandringle[11 notes]

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Today is Valentine’s Day!
Do you know what that means?  
It means that today is your chance to prove to the woman you love how much she means to you and how sorry you are to to prove to her that she can trust you regardless of how much you’ve hurt her in the past.  Valentine’s Day is your last chance and it had better be perfect.
Is it going to be enough?  It isn’t.
A diamond tennis bracelet won’t make her move forward and act like nothing happened.  It did happen.  It will have always happened.  You don’t get to rewind.  You don’t get to erase.  You did what you did and she knows.
Is the finest dinner at the fanciest restaurant going to mean much after the maitre ‘d calls her by your whore’s name?  Is the foie gras as rich as those lies you’ve forced down her throat?  Buttery enough to make her forget how bitter shame tastes?  It isn’t.
Is the most expensive wine enough to make up for wasting the time that’s been your life together?  Is that expensive Pinot Noir going to give her back the youth you stole?  It won’t.
Her humiliation will always be there, like the scar from a skinned knee or the carpet wine stain that won’t come up.  Not even with OxiClean.
All the gourmet artisan chocolates in the world won’t fill the whole you’ve left in her heart.  No amount of Belgian genache will smooth away all those lines carved in her forehead waiting up for you while you were out all night snorting OxyContin and depositing squirting your disrespect inside the stink trough of one of many anonymous day time Cracker Barrel waitresses.  
Or perhaps those chocolates were just meant to fatten her up so you don’t feel guilty admitting she hasn’t made your greasy little pig prick hard since before "Ally McBeal" went off the air.
This Valentine’s Day just sign the divorce papers and move out already.  If you ever loved her you would let her move on.
This year, give the most unforgettable woman in your life the most unforgettable Valentine’s Day gift she’ll ever receive and the one thing she wants most of all.
And put a bullet right in your fucking mouth.
This rose is for you.
- Dan Dringle

Today is Valentine’s Day!

Do you know what that means?  

It means that today is your chance to prove to the woman you love how much she means to you and how sorry you are to to prove to her that she can trust you regardless of how much you’ve hurt her in the past.  Valentine’s Day is your last chance and it had better be perfect.

Is it going to be enough?  It isn’t.

A diamond tennis bracelet won’t make her move forward and act like nothing happened.  It did happen.  It will have always happened.  You don’t get to rewind.  You don’t get to erase.  You did what you did and she knows.

Is the finest dinner at the fanciest restaurant going to mean much after the maitre ‘d calls her by your whore’s name?  Is the foie gras as rich as those lies you’ve forced down her throat?  Buttery enough to make her forget how bitter shame tastes?  It isn’t.

Is the most expensive wine enough to make up for wasting the time that’s been your life together?  Is that expensive Pinot Noir going to give her back the youth you stole?  It won’t.

Her humiliation will always be there, like the scar from a skinned knee or the carpet wine stain that won’t come up.  Not even with OxiClean.

All the gourmet artisan chocolates in the world won’t fill the whole you’ve left in her heart.  No amount of Belgian genache will smooth away all those lines carved in her forehead waiting up for you while you were out all night snorting OxyContin and depositing squirting your disrespect inside the stink trough of one of many anonymous day time Cracker Barrel waitresses.  

Or perhaps those chocolates were just meant to fatten her up so you don’t feel guilty admitting she hasn’t made your greasy little pig prick hard since before "Ally McBeal" went off the air.

This Valentine’s Day just sign the divorce papers and move out already.  If you ever loved her you would let her move on.

This year, give the most unforgettable woman in your life the most unforgettable Valentine’s Day gift she’ll ever receive and the one thing she wants most of all.

And put a bullet right in your fucking mouth.

This rose is for you.

- Dan Dringle

10:05 am, BY dandringle[12 notes]

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Taco Bell unleashes the new Triple Steak Stack, a soft warm flatbread with their patented Three-Cheese Blend over a Triple Portion of 100% USDA Select Marinaded Grilled Steak and…
…Is this some kind of joke?  
Is it?  
Is this some kind of joke, Theresa?  
Was covering my passport in cocaine residue just before I left for my business trip in Mexico supposed to be funny?  Was it?  I bet you’re laughing so hard you’re soaking your soggy swamp bog cunt in gin piss right now.  
I’m glad you think it’s funny.  Border patrol sure thought it was funny.  I’m being held at a patrol station right across the border.  I can’t see because there are no windows, but I know Mexico is right outside my window because the air smells like black bean ass beefs and laziness.   
You should see the bathroom here. Fucking disgusting.  Let me ask you a question, which of the following has a higher probability of actually happening: me building my own time machine to go back and fuck Madeline Stowe in the asshole on the set of Twelve Monkeys, or a single one of these Mexican inbred pickled pepper dick retards using a toilet without pissing on the seat?  
I’ve been in and out of consciousness for the better part of the last twelve hours.  Have you ever been kicked so hard in the mouth by a Tejano border patrol officer that you swallowed a fused three-unit porcelain metal dental bridge.  It felt like I was shitting out a crumbled Mountain Dew can.  
If Texas is the asshole of the United States, Mexico is the anal fissure of America itself.  A violent tear in Lady Liberty’s already battered and bruised brown eye.  
I can hear them chattering outside.  They’re talking about having me prosecuted in Mexico, Theresa.  IN MEXICO!  They are going to lock me away in some dark Mexican dungeon and force me to eat their semen for breakfast and other meals!
THAT IS UNLESS SOMEONE CAN GET THEIR FAT ASS OVER HERE TO SHOW THEM FURTHER LEGAL DOCUMENTATION THAT I AM WHO I SAY I AM SO YOU HAD BETTER GET THAT SWEAT PANT COVERED GARBAGE BAG OF BABY FOOD YOU CALL AN ASS ON THE FIRST PLANE TO THIS BACKWARDS TEXAS BORDERTOWN TO GET ME THE FUCK OUT OF HERE BECAUSE IF I HAVE TO SPEND ONE MINUTE MORE THAN I HAVE TO SMELLING THE CURDLED SOUR CREAM BREATHE OF THESE PEOPLE I WILL FINALLY FUCKING KILL YOU, THERESA!  
DO YOU HEAR ME!?!
I will kill you. 
I will kill you.
I will kill you.
- Don Diego de la Dringle

Taco Bell unleashes the new Triple Steak Stack, a soft warm flatbread with their patented Three-Cheese Blend over a Triple Portion of 100% USDA Select Marinaded Grilled Steak and…

…Is this some kind of joke?  

Is it?  

Is this some kind of joke, Theresa?  

Was covering my passport in cocaine residue just before I left for my business trip in Mexico supposed to be funny?  Was it?  I bet you’re laughing so hard you’re soaking your soggy swamp bog cunt in gin piss right now.  

I’m glad you think it’s funny.  Border patrol sure thought it was funny.  I’m being held at a patrol station right across the border.  I can’t see because there are no windows, but I know Mexico is right outside my window because the air smells like black bean ass beefs and laziness.   

You should see the bathroom here. Fucking disgusting.  Let me ask you a question, which of the following has a higher probability of actually happening: me building my own time machine to go back and fuck Madeline Stowe in the asshole on the set of Twelve Monkeys, or a single one of these Mexican inbred pickled pepper dick retards using a toilet without pissing on the seat?  

I’ve been in and out of consciousness for the better part of the last twelve hours.  Have you ever been kicked so hard in the mouth by a Tejano border patrol officer that you swallowed a fused three-unit porcelain metal dental bridge.  It felt like I was shitting out a crumbled Mountain Dew can.  

If Texas is the asshole of the United States, Mexico is the anal fissure of America itself.  A violent tear in Lady Liberty’s already battered and bruised brown eye.  

I can hear them chattering outside.  They’re talking about having me prosecuted in Mexico, Theresa.  IN MEXICO!  They are going to lock me away in some dark Mexican dungeon and force me to eat their semen for breakfast and other meals!

THAT IS UNLESS SOMEONE CAN GET THEIR FAT ASS OVER HERE TO SHOW THEM FURTHER LEGAL DOCUMENTATION THAT I AM WHO I SAY I AM SO YOU HAD BETTER GET THAT SWEAT PANT COVERED GARBAGE BAG OF BABY FOOD YOU CALL AN ASS ON THE FIRST PLANE TO THIS BACKWARDS TEXAS BORDERTOWN TO GET ME THE FUCK OUT OF HERE BECAUSE IF I HAVE TO SPEND ONE MINUTE MORE THAN I HAVE TO SMELLING THE CURDLED SOUR CREAM BREATHE OF THESE PEOPLE I WILL FINALLY FUCKING KILL YOU, THERESA!  

DO YOU HEAR ME!?!

I will kill you. 

I will kill you.

I will kill you.

- Don Diego de la Dringle

09:11 am, BY dandringle[4 notes]

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Domino’s Pizza® unveils it’s mouthwatering new Artisan Pizzas and tastebuds all over America could not be happier.  New robust sauces, earthy fresh vegetables and premium meats top a hand stretched artisan-style crust and are cooked to perfection and delivered right to your door even if your door isn’t your door anymore.  
Even if your door is now the door is now your estranged wife’s door in the house you paid for that she now shares with her new boyfriend, Trevis.  (It’s like “Travis” but with an “e.”)
You want to hate him.  But you don’t.  
Sure, you could hate him for his stupid fucking name.  The name Travis is already gayer than ironing your blue jeans.
Sure, you could hate him for fucking your wife but you haven’t been able to do that for years.  Not in the way she wanted.  Not in the ways that she deserved.  
Sure, you could hate him because he’s black, and we all know how you feel about that, but then you found out that he’s from England and you have to give him a break. You’d take three British blacks for every one of our American blacks.
Sure, you could hate him for all the time he spends with your son, David, but you don’t.  Trevis is good to him.  He listens to him and teaches him things and makes him feel strong and confident.  Makes him feel like the world isn’t such a scary place.
In the last six months Trevis has already raised David into being a better man that you are.
You don’t hate Trevis because you know that even if he hadn’t replaced you in your home you would have left by now anyway.
You never finish what you start.  You can’t even finish this Artisan Pizza you ordered from Dominos.
It’s crust is 13 X 9 inches.  Just like Trevis’ fat dick.
Go fuck yourself.
-Dan Dringle.

Domino’s Pizza® unveils it’s mouthwatering new Artisan Pizzas and tastebuds all over America could not be happier.  New robust sauces, earthy fresh vegetables and premium meats top a hand stretched artisan-style crust and are cooked to perfection and delivered right to your door even if your door isn’t your door anymore.  

Even if your door is now the door is now your estranged wife’s door in the house you paid for that she now shares with her new boyfriend, Trevis.  (It’s like “Travis” but with an “e.”)

You want to hate him.  But you don’t.  

Sure, you could hate him for his stupid fucking name.  The name Travis is already gayer than ironing your blue jeans.

Sure, you could hate him for fucking your wife but you haven’t been able to do that for years.  Not in the way she wanted.  Not in the ways that she deserved.  

Sure, you could hate him because he’s black, and we all know how you feel about that, but then you found out that he’s from England and you have to give him a break. You’d take three British blacks for every one of our American blacks.

Sure, you could hate him for all the time he spends with your son, David, but you don’t.  Trevis is good to him.  He listens to him and teaches him things and makes him feel strong and confident.  Makes him feel like the world isn’t such a scary place.

In the last six months Trevis has already raised David into being a better man that you are.

You don’t hate Trevis because you know that even if he hadn’t replaced you in your home you would have left by now anyway.

You never finish what you start.  You can’t even finish this Artisan Pizza you ordered from Dominos.

It’s crust is 13 X 9 inches.  Just like Trevis’ fat dick.

Go fuck yourself.

-Dan Dringle.

11:20 am, BY dandringle[24 notes]

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New DANDRINGLE.COM stickers now available.  
Slap ‘em all over your town and help make Dan harder to get rid of than the bed bugs you picked up at that hotel near the airport in Memphis. 
Email your address to DanDringle@gmail.com for your free “Dick Turkey” stickers, but just remember: Now Dan knows where you live.

New DANDRINGLE.COM stickers now available.  

Slap ‘em all over your town and help make Dan harder to get rid of than the bed bugs you picked up at that hotel near the airport in Memphis. 

Email your address to DanDringle@gmail.com for your free “Dick Turkey” stickers, but just remember: Now Dan knows where you live.

11:51 am, BY dandringle[5 notes]

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FUNNY OR DIE CONTEST
Dan Dringle is now on FunnyOrDie.com.  

Be one of the first to “LIKE” and comment on Dan’s page and win a $10 Gift Certificate to TGIFriday’s so you can go take your girl out to a nice restaurant.  
Treat her right.  Buy her a Friday’s Pink Punk Cosmo and make her feel special.  Even though she’s not.
Make her feel loved even though she’s not.
Make her feel like romance is something that really exists and not something she just dreamed of as a little girl and that she’s more than just battered gaping holes of pig meat meant to be used up and filled with the evil that all men make and do.  
Even though she’s not.
Winner picked tomorrow so “like” and reblog away.  
Good luck.

FUNNY OR DIE CONTEST

Dan Dringle is now on FunnyOrDie.com.  

Be one of the first to “LIKE” and comment on Dan’s page and win a $10 Gift Certificate to TGIFriday’s so you can go take your girl out to a nice restaurant.  

Treat her right.  Buy her a Friday’s Pink Punk Cosmo and make her feel special.  Even though she’s not.

Make her feel loved even though she’s not.

Make her feel like romance is something that really exists and not something she just dreamed of as a little girl and that she’s more than just battered gaping holes of pig meat meant to be used up and filled with the evil that all men make and do.  

Even though she’s not.

Winner picked tomorrow so “like” and reblog away.  

Good luck.

11:25 am, BY dandringle[10 notes]

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My son, David, just drew me a picture of his favorite animal, the Dick Turkey!  What a talented little artist!
Daddy loves you, David.

My son, David, just drew me a picture of his favorite animal, the Dick Turkey!  What a talented little artist!

Daddy loves you, David.

11:20 am, BY dandringle[10 notes]
You searched for [dan dringle] [dick turkey]

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Frequent fliers need all the carry on space they can get, so why not leave the laptop at home and make the MOTOROLA XOOM Android Tablet your new travel companion?
Cutting edge next-generation technology with the latest in Google Mobile innovations provides with you with everything you would need from a home computer but with the 1.6 pound lightweight portability of a tablet.  It’s awesome in the truest sense of the word.
It has a front-facing 2-megapixel camera so you can video chat with your son David and explain to him why he has to eat dinner every night of the week at the condo of Trevis, the SPIN instructor at mommy and daddy’s gym.
His name is Trevis.  That’s right.  Trevis.  With an “e.”
I saw his dick once.  In the gym locker room.  It was awesome in the truest sense of the word.  
It was like seeing a whale surface.  It was like seeing the Aurora Borealis.  
It was smooth like an Asian’s forearm and non-porous as if it was made of blown glass.
There was not a single shadow on it as if his dick was it’s own light source and no matter which direction he moved his dick always seemed to point west.  
His is the dick of a man.  Mine looks like the gnarled finger of gypsy fortune teller.  
Tell your son you miss him on the 10.1 Inch Widescreen HD display and not to let the black man in Capri pants make him forget about his father the way his mother has forgotten about her husband.  Daddy will be home soon, David.
I love you, David.
Daddy loves you.
Daddy loves you.
Daddy loves you.
- Dan Dringle

Frequent fliers need all the carry on space they can get, so why not leave the laptop at home and make the MOTOROLA XOOM Android Tablet your new travel companion?

Cutting edge next-generation technology with the latest in Google Mobile innovations provides with you with everything you would need from a home computer but with the 1.6 pound lightweight portability of a tablet.  It’s awesome in the truest sense of the word.

It has a front-facing 2-megapixel camera so you can video chat with your son David and explain to him why he has to eat dinner every night of the week at the condo of Trevis, the SPIN instructor at mommy and daddy’s gym.

His name is Trevis.  That’s right.  Trevis.  With an “e.”

I saw his dick once.  In the gym locker room.  It was awesome in the truest sense of the word.  

It was like seeing a whale surface.  It was like seeing the Aurora Borealis.  

It was smooth like an Asian’s forearm and non-porous as if it was made of blown glass.

There was not a single shadow on it as if his dick was it’s own light source and no matter which direction he moved his dick always seemed to point west.  

His is the dick of a man.  Mine looks like the gnarled finger of gypsy fortune teller.  

Tell your son you miss him on the 10.1 Inch Widescreen HD display and not to let the black man in Capri pants make him forget about his father the way his mother has forgotten about her husband.  Daddy will be home soon, David.

I love you, David.

Daddy loves you.

Daddy loves you.

Daddy loves you.

- Dan Dringle

11:20 am, BY dandringle[27 notes]

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Dear Dan,

Why do blind musicians always have to wave their head around all the time?
What does blindness have to do with your neck muscles? God, I hate them.

Thanks, Patricia Yu

Dear Patricia,
You’re racist. Can I take you out for dinner some time?  I get 1/2 priced appetizers at most Chili’s due to my long standing AAA membership.

Dan “can I get some extra Chipotle Mayo with those Southwest Eggrolls, please?” Dringle

09:37 am, BY dandringle[5 notes]

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Upset that you never get invited to holiday barbecue?  Me too!  
Don’t worry, friend, because the WEBER GENESIS E-310 GAS GRILL is here to change all that!  This is the new benchmark for luxury outdoor grilling technology so throw you own barbeque and have them come to you!  
This optional liquid propane or natural gas grill can reach tempuratures of up to 38,000 BTU giving your backyard the cooking power of a restaurant kitchen, there’s no way anybody wouldn’t RSVP with a confident “Yes!” to a holiday barbeque at my house, especially after they see those handmade invitations I spent all night making written on the back of the court stenographers’ transcription of my most recent custody proceedings!
Daddy loves you, David.
I can’t wait until I see the look on my neighbors faces when they get a bite of those tasty burgers I’m going to be grilling up on those porcelain-enameled cast iron cooking grates.
If there’s two things I know how to do well, it’s grilling and fucking and trust me when I say that you’re going to need a Wet-Nap after both.  
Maybe you sent a special invitation to a special woman.  Maybe it’s someone you’ve had a secret crush on for many months now.  Maybe it’s your son David’s piano teacher, Ms. Bebe Ann Dunbarr?  Is it?  Well, a gentleman never tells so it looks like I’m going to have to plead the fifth on that one.
Beethoven’s fifth that is!
I am totally having sex with my son David’s piano teacher.  We recently made love on top of David’s practice baby grand. I fucked her from behind through a tear in her stockings until the sweat from my animal ramming made the eye make-up stream down her face and I pressed the back of her head into my 600 thread count sheets to reveal an inky fuck Rorschach blot painted with the warpaint of our sexuality.  
I told her I thought it looked like a butterfly and then we came loud enough to make God remember we still exist.
I know she’ll never respect me but I’m going to fuck her until she loves me and I cannot wait to break her heart.  
Happy Fourth of July, America.  Keep your prick veins rigid with the red blood of FREEDOM. 
- Dan Dringle

Upset that you never get invited to holiday barbecue?  Me too!  

Don’t worry, friend, because the WEBER GENESIS E-310 GAS GRILL is here to change all that!  This is the new benchmark for luxury outdoor grilling technology so throw you own barbeque and have them come to you!  

This optional liquid propane or natural gas grill can reach tempuratures of up to 38,000 BTU giving your backyard the cooking power of a restaurant kitchen, there’s no way anybody wouldn’t RSVP with a confident “Yes!” to a holiday barbeque at my house, especially after they see those handmade invitations I spent all night making written on the back of the court stenographers’ transcription of my most recent custody proceedings!

Daddy loves you, David.

I can’t wait until I see the look on my neighbors faces when they get a bite of those tasty burgers I’m going to be grilling up on those porcelain-enameled cast iron cooking grates.

If there’s two things I know how to do well, it’s grilling and fucking and trust me when I say that you’re going to need a Wet-Nap after both.  

Maybe you sent a special invitation to a special woman.  Maybe it’s someone you’ve had a secret crush on for many months now.  Maybe it’s your son David’s piano teacher, Ms. Bebe Ann Dunbarr?  Is it?  Well, a gentleman never tells so it looks like I’m going to have to plead the fifth on that one.

Beethoven’s fifth that is!

I am totally having sex with my son David’s piano teacher.  We recently made love on top of David’s practice baby grand. I fucked her from behind through a tear in her stockings until the sweat from my animal ramming made the eye make-up stream down her face and I pressed the back of her head into my 600 thread count sheets to reveal an inky fuck Rorschach blot painted with the warpaint of our sexuality.  

I told her I thought it looked like a butterfly and then we came loud enough to make God remember we still exist.

I know she’ll never respect me but I’m going to fuck her until she loves me and I cannot wait to break her heart.  

Happy Fourth of July, America.  Keep your prick veins rigid with the red blood of FREEDOM. 

- Dan Dringle

09:30 am, BY dandringle[72 notes]

Comments