What I said must have some meaning to you, because here you are weeks later still butt hurting like a bitch over it. You've been building up another achey breaky vagina for the last two days over something Bornyo said in the cage. You're a child, at least you mentality is child like, but whatever has your panties in a wad this time, hurry up and melt down, you fat tub of butter, so you can blow yourself out and I don't have to hold your hand through it this weekend.
You're hand holding me now? But you said you weren't doing that. You're not lying are you? No. That couldn't be. You're in a position of responsibility with the other 11 3/5 people here, herr doktor.
I is a child now? Your diagnoses changes every couple hours, no?
I understand, sug. Your little dream for this place hasn't panned out like you were sure it would. You and your hillbilly dog drowning buddy failed to turn this thing into...well, into whatever you thought it would turn into. Of course it can't be your fault. You're infallible. like the Pope. But it has to be somebody's fault, doesn't it? It's easier to blame me for your fucked up ideas failing than it is to look in the mirror. Or to have to face God Steve. I'm happy to be your whipping boy on this thing. But we both know you're the fuck up.
You can call everything a meltdown, panties in a bunch, butthurt, all the little cute internet phrases. You can call me delusional, butter, a child, fat, retard, thief of your bandwidth, whatever. The weed thing. But it doesn't change you're being a failure.
I'm going to remain a burr in your saddle whether you like it or not. I'm going to point out when you're wrong. Lash out if you want. That just makes it more fun.
Go capitalism.
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