Feeder Posted June 3, 2010 Report Posted June 3, 2010 To see iBLASTinside's original blog post, click here... Sup Look, slang is fine. I get slang. I love slang. Slang is slammin'. But for some reason, "sup" just crawls into my craw and bugs the shit out of me. I know. It's an abbreviation of "what's up?" I get it. But "sup" just seems to join with the sudden chin jolt up movement. There's a a kind of arrogance around "sup" that just doesn't seem accessible. It doesn't seem like a question. More like a pejorative, not intending to care whether there's a response. Where is that? How far away from you am I? Now how the fuck should I know? People have asked where I am, I tell them and then they ask where it is. Have you heard of MapQuest? Google Maps? Yahoo Maps? Geez, just fucking look! I'm not your goddamned atlas. I don't know where you are and I just fucking told you where I am so you figure it out. Where is your hotel? How do I get there? Listen, you little fucker, I'm not from your goddamned city so I have no fucking idea how you get to my hotel. I tell you the name of my hotel and, in likelihood, you can fucking find it on Marriott.com or HolidayInn.com. How are you hung? Please take a look at the following photographs and tell me whether you can tell how I am hung. I'm seven inches cut. I think it's pretty clear my cock points at my belly button. It's pretty fucking straight. So how am I hung? Um. I'm not huge. Yet, even after seeing one or all of these photographs, a jerk is willing to come out with this question. Listen, after you've been fucked by me, you will definitely know it. Only a few people have taken my cock without hesitation. Let's fuck or not. Tell me about yourself... Please take a look at my damn blog. I've written a whole helluva lot more about myself than you have about yourself in the two seconds it took you to ask me "tell me about yourself"? I know you're too goddamned lazy to read the 250-plus entries on myself, but that's why I wrote the About Me page on my website so you couldn't have to read everything. ASL? How old are you? Where are you? Yes, I still get the damned questions! And many of these occur on Facebook where I actually publish my birth year of 1967. Now I know it's complicated math without a calculator, but I'm still asked all the time how old I happened to be (2010 minus 1967 is 43). Location must be more difficult for places elsewhere in the world since Atlanta, Georgia doesn't seem to register that it's in the United States of American, even to Americans. Where's Your Picture? You see that gigantic photograph with the face thingie. That's me. Oh, you want a CLEAR photo? Well fuck off. You want an ass photo? Well fuck off. You want a dick photo? Fuck off! Fuck off! Fuck off! More...
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