So How Do You Guys Feel About...

All the gay?

its pretty obnoxious IMO.

its pretty obnoxious IMO.

>Implying rainbows are gay


I laughed.

>Implying rainbows are gay


I laughed.

I'm talking about the entirety of Southperry.

All the gay?

I dont judge you for how you are.

its pretty obnoxious IMO.

This

I'm talking about the entirety of Southperry.

What's incredible is that I've spent the last five years doing this holistic prism schtick that's supposed to make your aura look like egg yolks and smell like non-invasive honeysuckles, and for a while it made me lonely and brooding and I afraid I would never find anyone that I could stand to be with because so many people have these deficient tobacco-snot-and-decomposing-chicken-fat auras, which is kind of "normal," but now that I've met you with your creamy texture and your dimethyl something-or-other fragrance that really just drives me wild because I can't place my finger on it, I just want to bathe in your light and be on your right, and I hope we can make some beautiful eggnog together some day when I'm able to fully understand and be worthy of all of the things that you do to hold this insipid, one-dimensional world at bay from linearizing us with their process and their service which all amount to nonsense anyway if you realize that life like that is like a box full of chocolates buried in a pile of excrement from various diverse species and in that context it's really just better to avoid the chocolate all together in hopes of finding something a little bit less luxurious with which to sustain oneself, but that doesn't mean that I would trade all the spuds in the world for you, because you aren't a commodity to be traded, coveted or even vied for by the likes of me, as you make your own decisions and I'll still love you for you when my slowness makes you angry and you call me mean names like %uBC4Eig-head?and %uBC3Cool?and I don't understand, because nothing would hurt worse than losing you due to some expendable part of myself that's probably going to realize it's wrong eventually, whether or not you're around to make the observation, because forgiveness isn't about revenge: it is about expression and mutual understanding: the former because the archetypal Other has a right to assert frustration, even something as simple as a contrary opinion, and the latter because both sides should realize that they can view each other as being just as wrong, perhaps even for making a big deal out of some silly ideas, so really your only choices are to make-up or self-destruct, though we've both been unlucky in love, another random fate brought us someone who is more like us than not, and who has tolerable differences which can ferment affection with maturity, But no opinion so profound that you'd be willing to take a 50% chance on being right, making things more like a survival rate from cardiovascular surgery than the chance of rain for your picnic this Saturday, which you won't be attending anyway if your heart explodes, so what's wrong or right or subjectively relevant is ultimately irrelevant to the cause of having someone that, above all, fills your world with breathable air and antibodies against the malignant topospheric agents which pollute our meme pools and streams of consciousness, whose company you are depriving of the rest of a world that doesn't matter and which you've already sampled and can live without, and so can anyone worth loving because loving is its own level of exertion and in order to keep you around, the magnanimous pauper before you is prepared to render an effort equivalent to millions of individuals per second who take the easy way out by believing in idols who aren't worth the damage caused to an actual human being due to some malafforded adoration, only because they've been tricked into thinking that believing in some aloof egalitarian dictator in the sky will somehow make the world a better place than believing in each other, And all those who haven't digested that religion is one of the great innovations which humanity has contrived and which amounts to convincing Others to believe in talking heads as authority figures, thus rewriting global entrainment patterns as much as a Scot reinvented the wheel by making it pneumatic, and thus half as durable, but twice as efficient, though science compensates for its short-comings whereas religion can merely state that flaws are perfections resulting in an ancient, thrice-translated tome that is lacking any non-self-referencing source being amended once again by those who have given themselves the authority to do so, could never compare to this ravenous mystic who keeps me rapt beyond anything that the world had ever offered or sold and I don't want a discount for what it's worth is my love, which you already have and if I could divide by zero, I'd give it forever or a little more if it would make any difference, even though it's worthless and won't sustain us considering that worth is just another contraption for demeaning the needy by depriving them of necessity, making them the subject of Maslow's mourning, but I'm actualized without your love, as are you sans mine, so neither of us are on that %uBC58ou complete me?trip and this partnership isn't a new journey for either of us because even if by some irony we simultaneously expire, we won't be together beyond the end, and death is just a release from pain for which you were the only analgesic that was ever really effective, which is why I can only want your affection and hope you'll accept mine, because I want to do the same for you, and in time, perhaps - together - we can ease the world's pain, and at least each others', which is more than most can say for themselves or the ones they claim to love, because love can't die if it was never alive in the first place, and still-born loves seem to be the new trend for %uBC54ntil death do us part,?thus removing each partner from responsibility, making the relationship a shell-like structure as shallow as a corporation that exists only to accentuate and exacerbate an all-too-familiar separation of labor and profit, where a community of still-living vampires drains the rest in the ultimate act of dependence on the vitality of others, in a tale as ancient and ironic as Abraham's loss to a unloving and unappreciativeGod who felt the need to make an impression, although, my Goddess, I just want you to be my muse for I'm not afraid of your tongue that's so quickly my bane, and if you saw fit to slay me I'd think it's for the best and be grateful to spend my last moment breathing that anonyberry scent that has been such a sweet distraction from the fact that a handful of role-filling old men with toddler egos are succeeding in making everyone else empty like a transfatty acid concoction, chock full of stale nuts, while they think they're fresh as they repeat a favorite joke of unknown ingredients, wonder if I'm a foreigner because I refuse to feign amusement concerning a redundant echo unworthy of a genuine response, and walk away, firm in their belief that I'm without a sense of humor, never realizing that they've only failed at getting me to play their game, and having marked me as an Other of insignificant proportions,I revel in their uniformity and press on in my contradictory love for you, which could only be sustained by understanding.

All the gay?

makes me want to get on my knees, and please.
Inb4 Infraction.

What's incredible is that I've spent the last five years doing this holistic prism schtick that's supposed to make your aura look like egg yolks and smell like non-invasive honeysuckles, and for a while it made me lonely and brooding and I afraid I would never find anyone that I could stand to be with because so many people have these deficient tobacco-snot-and-decomposing-chicken-fat auras, which is kind of "normal," but now that I've met you with your creamy texture and your dimethyl something-or-other fragrance that really just drives me wild because I can't place my finger on it, I just want to bathe in your light and be on your right, and I hope we can make some beautiful eggnog together some day when I'm able to fully understand and be worthy of all of the things that you do to hold this insipid, one-dimensional world at bay from linearizing us with their process and their service which all amount to nonsense anyway if you realize that life like that is like a box full of chocolates buried in a pile of excrement from various diverse species and in that context it's really just better to avoid the chocolate all together in hopes of finding something a little bit less luxurious with which to sustain oneself, but that doesn't mean that I would trade all the spuds in the world for you, because you aren't a commodity to be traded, coveted or even vied for by the likes of me, as you make your own decisions and I'll still love you for you when my slowness makes you angry and you call me mean names like %uBC4Eig-head?and %uBC3Cool?and I don't understand, because nothing would hurt worse than losing you due to some expendable part of myself that's probably going to realize it's wrong eventually, whether or not you're around to make the observation, because forgiveness isn't about revenge: it is about expression and mutual understanding: the former because the archetypal Other has a right to assert frustration, even something as simple as a contrary opinion, and the latter because both sides should realize that they can view each other as being just as wrong, perhaps even for making a big deal out of some silly ideas, so really your only choices are to make-up or self-destruct, though we've both been unlucky in love, another random fate brought us someone who is more like us than not, and who has tolerable differences which can ferment affection with maturity, But no opinion so profound that you'd be willing to take a 50% chance on being right, making things more like a survival rate from cardiovascular surgery than the chance of rain for your picnic this Saturday, which you won't be attending anyway if your heart explodes, so what's wrong or right or subjectively relevant is ultimately irrelevant to the cause of having someone that, above all, fills your world with breathable air and antibodies against the malignant topospheric agents which pollute our meme pools and streams of consciousness, whose company you are depriving of the rest of a world that doesn't matter and which you've already sampled and can live without, and so can anyone worth loving because loving is its own level of exertion and in order to keep you around, the magnanimous pauper before you is prepared to render an effort equivalent to millions of individuals per second who take the easy way out by believing in idols who aren't worth the damage caused to an actual human being due to some malafforded adoration, only because they've been tricked into thinking that believing in some aloof egalitarian dictator in the sky will somehow make the world a better place than believing in each other, And all those who haven't digested that religion is one of the great innovations which humanity has contrived and which amounts to convincing Others to believe in talking heads as authority figures, thus rewriting global entrainment patterns as much as a Scot reinvented the wheel by making it pneumatic, and thus half as durable, but twice as efficient, though science compensates for its short-comings whereas religion can merely state that flaws are perfections resulting in an ancient, thrice-translated tome that is lacking any non-self-referencing source being amended once again by those who have given themselves the authority to do so, could never compare to this ravenous mystic who keeps me rapt beyond anything that the world had ever offered or sold and I don't want a discount for what it's worth is my love, which you already have and if I could divide by zero, I'd give it forever or a little more if it would make any difference, even though it's worthless and won't sustain us considering that worth is just another contraption for demeaning the needy by depriving them of necessity, making them the subject of Maslow's mourning, but I'm actualized without your love, as are you sans mine, so neither of us are on that %uBC58ou complete me?trip and this partnership isn't a new journey for either of us because even if by some irony we simultaneously expire, we won't be together beyond the end, and death is just a release from pain for which you were the only analgesic that was ever really effective, which is why I can only want your affection and hope you'll accept mine, because I want to do the same for you, and in time, perhaps - together - we can ease the world's pain, and at least each others', which is more than most can say for themselves or the ones they claim to love, because love can't die if it was never alive in the first place, and still-born loves seem to be the new trend for %uBC54ntil death do us part,?thus removing each partner from responsibility, making the relationship a shell-like structure as shallow as a corporation that exists only to accentuate and exacerbate an all-too-familiar separation of labor and profit, where a community of still-living vampires drains the rest in the ultimate act of dependence on the vitality of others, in a tale as ancient and ironic as Abraham's loss to a unloving and unappreciativeGod who felt the need to make an impression, although, my Goddess, I just want you to be my muse for I'm not afraid of your tongue that's so quickly my bane, and if you saw fit to slay me I'd think it's for the best and be grateful to spend my last moment breathing that anonyberry scent that has been such a sweet distraction from the fact that a handful of role-filling old men with toddler egos are succeeding in making everyone else empty like a transfatty acid concoction, chock full of stale nuts, while they think they're fresh as they repeat a favorite joke of unknown ingredients, wonder if I'm a foreigner because I refuse to feign amusement concerning a redundant echo unworthy of a genuine response, and walk away, firm in their belief that I'm without a sense of humor, never realizing that they've only failed at getting me to play their game, and having marked me as an Other of insignificant proportions,I revel in their uniformity and press on in my contradictory love for you, which could only be sustained by understanding.

My dreams just came true.

My dreams just came true.

They're taking over. Boy am I glad I practically go nothing but lurk anymore.

They're taking over. Boy am I glad I practically go nothing but lurk anymore.

you boring

its pretty obnoxious IMO.

.

I'll still love you for you when my slowness makes you angry and you call me mean names like %uBC4Eig-head?and %uBC3Cool?and I don't understand, because nothing would hurt worse

Riveting tale, chap.

limit

I suppose the scary part about Spidey is his Web



[video=youtube;cL7kcFdGGPM]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cL7kcFdGGPM[/video]

Yeah I'm fine with the homosexual/bisexual/whatever.

Gay in general? Whatever. Do as you wish. I don't give a crap.

The gay that's:

pretty obnoxious

Is fucking annoying.