NormKindness versus Nastiness.
For so many women, it's easy to be Nasty. Not Illie. Nastase was a tennis freak. He might have been nasty at times, but not always. So what's your racket? You refuse to wear a skirt. Too busy trying pants on? Too busy wearing them, even when they don't fit? The fact you don't have balls? The fact you hate men with them? Even those without them? Just men in general? Yet won't play in the ladies half of the draw, either? Too many lesbians who indulge in crack-licking? You really are a ball-girl. Your whole life is spent trying to grab hold of men's balls out of spite and hatred. What's your racket really? Is it that you can't get to Deuce? Don't know how to come? In your own juices. Never have, even after baby bearing? And life's just one big frustration, and you have to take it out on others? Perhaps, now, you're just too dried up and withered? You won't OPEN your legs? Ever again? Not even for the chance of a GRAND SLAM? Your personal tournament entries closed years ago? So you reject Cyclops? Take the hard line appproach? Rather than put your body on the line? It's time you got a new grip on life. And let a loving man get a grip on you, before you can't even get a wild card entry from a hillbilly Deliverance, pig-fucking slob (not that they're 'that' stupid anyway. They'd rather fuck a pig's twat. At least pigs sqeal due to their animal nature and basic instinct, not their rejection of both. At least a pig has pink bits and feels wet on the inside and the outside (the ones that live in swamplands, anyway)). It's time you got a handle on life. You're far too highly-strung for my liking. I'd like to be the chair umpire who yells out LET! LET GO of your spite and vitriole. Learn to play a few love games. You're so far from ACE! You're far too set in your ways. It's hard to find a nasty person to match you. You'll never win a silver plate. Until you get the spoon you stole (and weren't born with) out of your foul mouth. I don't even know how you made the cut with a sewn-up gash. The fault is not with your foot. It's with your brain, your heart and your mouth. The court surface of your brain has gone all Marat Safin potato-paddock mushy and lumpy on you. Beudy Newk! Stomp on the spuds and squish them into the faded-grey-matter-turf. Your heart is as cold as a Martina Navritolova Lesbian stare. And your mouth is as open as a Venus Williams panty gash when she bends over and lets a fanny-fart rip! People who are kind to themselves are kind to others. People who are nasty to themselves are nasty to others. Opposites.
Love it ...
You've certainly got a handle and a grip on the girls who inhabit the virtual world ...
David ...
Consumption Malfunction
Equal and Opposite
Arses and Elbows
Footy Power
a backhander up the line to the hoping, caught.
Perhaps you could make David a business card.
More blogs than.......a blogger.......
It'd have to be the equal of one of those giant novelty cheques.
Nice one,much Maligned.
Norm