Deep dish, thin crust or hand tossed?— what’s your take?

Oh, stuffed crust you say? That’s not an option, dick hole.

Oh, you think I’m talking about pizza 🍕? Bless your fucking heart. You struggle with tying your shoes, don’t you?

I talk in metaphors— A LOT. It’s fun, and it makes Me happy. It’s quite scary as to how many people truly just don’t get it. Get life, get themselves— get ANYTHING.

How do you GET LIKE THAT? Is it from lack of human socialization or too much of it?

I’m a Copywriter— I KNOW HOW TO FUCKING WRITE. And I know how to tie My fucking shoes. Yay Me. Seriously— YAY ME. Apparently, I’m an anomaly. Women like Me don’t grow on trees. I’m a treasure— buried deep within. A place where only a select few are invited.

Yes, it’s fucking badass here. And no, you cannot have a slice of My pizza 🍕— that shit is Mine. Sip your Capri-Sun and be gone.

Buckle up, buttercup. It’s going to be a wild, enlightening, ACUTELY ELECTRIFYING ride. I’m the best thing that’s happened to you. You’re welcome.