So I've decided that life is extraordinarily odd as of lately. I woke up this morning thinking that everything that has happened is a dream and then realized that I just didn't get enough sleep. Sometimes when the two lapse together, they combine into a giant mass of uncomprehensible images that may or may not be real. It's abstract and insane but
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god tasha, the only jokes i know really well are helen keller jokes, i never forget those. ok here goes: why did helen keller's dog commit suicide? wouldn't you if your name was muuuuuuuuuh? yea that's awful, i know. it's all i got, my mind is mush.
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Anyway. A joke. I don't have jokes. Except when I was in lit. studies class today and I took on the persona of a mid-late fifty year old black woman. So, I will give you this instead. It's sexual, of course, but it seems to remain true..."That's just nature, wanting somebody to be rubbing up 'gainst ya and thing... That age you wanting to be held and have your toes curl up and...whew! yes ma'am!"
That quote it more for your "Je n'aime pas des hommes. Ils sont tres compliques"
Oh and "Your mom is so gross that when you said you wanted some seafood, she opened her legs and told you to start fishing for crabs"
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and helen keller jokes [especially that one^] make me laught... =x
how about WHY DOESN'T TIGGER HAVE ANY FRIENDS? because he plays with pooh!! HA.
or, WHY DOES SNOOP DOGG CARRY AN UMBRELLA? fo drizzle!!
thanks, i'm here all night.
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"OH! NOW I GET IT!" -Me.
I cry at night.
We should do something horrendously random, and surely very fucking retareded when you get back. At night of course.
I am so politically correct.
So we shall think. And we shall do.
I miss you Natashia Swalve.
You rock. In every way possible.
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