After surfing a billion personals profiles, I've determined most people are smoking crack. Therefore, my profile...
You should only message me if you are into casual hookups and playing games, and your asshole ungrateful kids come dead last in your life. Because you know unlike other women, just because you bang some guy you picked up in a bar, got married, and pooped up a couple of rugrats... that's not going to be your life's crowning achievement. At least, I should hope not! Any stray dog can fuck. And your kids aren't going to be Nobel prize winners. The world is way overpopulated; stop breeding, you morons!~
Also, preferable, you believe in some made up rubbish god because you have a wishy washy feeling about it. All you have to do is ask, hey god, are you there, and when no one at all fucking answers, ever, strengthen your faith that he is just testing you and you are not, in fact, bone fucking stupid.
But don't sweat it, in heaven, everything is fine...
By night, I am the weapon that will destroy the state. A simple libertine anarchist, with simple tastes, who enjoys the simple things in life... like open sedition and violent revolution. As an anarchist, I destroy pecking orders and bogus authority. I stab your alpha male like an assassin and plunge your kingdom back into raw freedom and gorgeous chaos. Your god does not exist, and your country is nothing more than a bunch of murderous thugs with guns and radios. Look it up.
Are you an anarchist? You probably are...
Fall down the rabbit hole. You could do worse! Many married women have!
( . .)♥
I also moonlight as the stunt double for the Ax Body Wash commercials, and play in the hardcore rock band "50 caliber Fist FK" at the Restaurant at the End of the Universe, as lead didgeridoo player. "Whenever life, get's you down, Misses Brown... just remember! Your standing on a planet that's evolving and revolving at nine hundred million miles an hour!"
Yeah, I know, an artistic type, that gets you hot and bothered! Is it hot in here? Someone throw a glass of water in my face. Yeah. That completed me. Hit me again.
By day, I'm just your ordinary run of the milll über mad scientist witch doctor, shark trainer @ PetSmart, video game designer, trash dump truck driver, pinup girl / vintage nudes / boudoir photographer, panhandling street musician, moonlighting mortician, combat helicopter pilot, baby sitter, shrunken head distributor, and youtube video editor... (think Fletch)
...more talented than your estranged weird fraternal twin kid brother Philmore who was banished at the age of five for intentionally writing run on sentences like this one, and for unspeakable acts against vegtebles with cabbage patch dolls. Remember, the one you set up and framed, so you could have all the toys to yourself? You got him good, didn't you, you conniving b***h! Couldn't wait until you started dating me, like all the rest, you had to start early!
I can change the windshield wiper fluid in your car *and* roll back the odometer, not to mention, change the VIN with a belt grinder. The same belt grinder you use to take off your makeup!
Shhh, *looks around*, I will tell you a Zohan secret agent state secret. Don't mess with the Zohan. No, that's not it. I am building the worlds most powerful squishy computer in my basement. I call it my 9 cat brain neural net hyper transcendental computer, a TI-89 pocket calculator with more smarts than your electronic washing machine dryer combo, to explore the totally bogus 'Many Worlds' theory. Look it up on Wikipedia, geek girl!
I feed it catnip graham crackers instead of WW2 era punch cards (the Nutella spread I put on them kind of gunks things up tho), and while my multi cat brained computer dreams, I dance in my spider man underwear in front of a mirror and sing "I wanna grow old with you" like Adam Sandler. Sometimes I ask it questions. Like, will I ever find true love. Sometimes it meows at me. Will you meow at me? I might meow back.
If you are standing right there, does it make you uncomfortable if I undress your dog with my eyes? How about your grandpa? Myself? I am undressing myself with my eyes! No, you are! Stop it! Village harlot!
If we get milkshakes, I call dibs on your cherry. But if we go anywhere, you must help me carry my backpacks full of mouse traps, because if my 9 cat brained computer is right, the future is full of mice. A post apocalyptic bladerunner world is right around the corner, so repent, all you sinners, all of you are a heathen self absorbed lot that spend way too much time staring back at yourself in the vanity mirror that is your myspace profile!
Every guy has a secret agenda, and my secret agenda is to defrag the hell out of your harddrive, and tease your hair for added height and volume. Girl, you know you got non-sequential sectors going on, AND split ends!