Offline thefunkylama

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My Bio

That one night in Maine was all it took to lure me away from my desk job as a night clerk on the fifth floor of a stuffy accounting office on the southern tip of Santa Barbara. I packed my mother's ancient suitcase with my few meager belongings, including a collection of 45's from the sixties and seventies, a statuette of the Virgin Mary given to me by my godfather when I was twelve, a fully-illustrated copy of Don Quixote, and my favorite pieces of costume jewelry left over from the eighties that I'd collected from thrift stores through the years. I left what I couldn't carry in the care of my mother's assistant; I gifted the rest of the jewelry to my sister and cousins; and I left, for the first time, the only life I had ever known.

My Occupation

Smoking the very last of every cigarette, licking the caps of liqour bottles, sucking the souls out of every corpse and counting every last second until I see you again.

My Hobbies

Dear Castrating Harpy,

By the time you read this, I'll be blowing your best friend. I'm sorry for doing this but, you left me no other choice. I know this might comes as a bit of a shock to you - especially because you're an emotional cripple. But I'm sorry - I just need freedom. I think you're a psychopath, and I don't think we're right for each other. First of all, we're not compatible. You're a German Scat Aficionado, and I'm beyond that. You like declawed rodentia colonics, you eat mayonnaise-based salads, and enjoy defrauding the elderly, and I don't like any of these things. Your favorite movie is Patch Adams, and your favorite band is Whitesnake. Do you even know what my favorite movie or band is? I once asked you what color my eyes are and you said "Shiny". Anyway, you make me want to date an entire troupe of Chippendales. You know what else? I want to be dead to you. We can totally forget the other is alive . We had some good times, or so you told me . But please, don't get all John Wayne Gacy like last time. That means no spiteful genital tattoos. And look - I won't even make an issue out of the $37,291 you owe me, or the fact that you threw bleach on my face. So take care of yourself - and please irrigate that chancre.

Yours In Contempt,


P.S. I faked every orgasm.

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