but back in the day when i was but a pre-pubescent unintentionally internationally unknown perform'n illusionist of my own universe...forced to participate in the voodoo rituals in a classroom full of coma-toasted Catholickers...very lil was told about the tingle'n sensations that were race'n thru our milky fresh pre-pubic nubile bodies
my sex education classes consisted of 2 basic rules :
#1 it's against CASPER's law and absolutely deplorable...
to involve yerself in ritualistic monkey love with someone have'n the same nibbley parts
#2 it's against CASPER's law and the #1 cause fer blindness...by...
"play'n with yer Pee Wee Herman"
"yank'n yer Yoda"
"make'n yer pogo stick puke"
main cause for mental insanity and instability in certain future political pretentious cheetos covered clowns
well...needless to say...i wasn't too damn happy to get this news...cuz the endless hours i used to spend above our garage...once fingers found flesh...after rummage'n thru my cuz's garbage and meticulously remove'n
the gerber servers from back issues of beaver hunt and leave'n me with the pile of tonsil ticklers as visual aids fer my numerous exploratory expeditions
as my body began to change...so did the electricity surge'n thru my veins...and then one day it FINALLY happened...when i was have'n...
"my own private i-da-ho" moment...that the gates of Lucifer opened wide like the nuns spoke of...
and i gave myself my very first "pearl necklace"...which was very traumatize'n at the time...cuz i believed this was a punishment from CASPER thanx to those non fuck'n nuns...so i figered i had to rid my body of this obvious enjoyable evilness...sometimes at the rate of 10-15 times a day until i gave my one eyed willy serious rug burns and could no longer rub one out...
this of course would'a been alot less painful had i know about lather'n up in lubrication while perform'n self-fornication
it wasn't until i joined in on a weekly ritual with 
that i learned heaven truly is a place on earth...or at the very least...in a buddies garage...they know who they are so i will forgo mention'n any names...besides...they wouldn't fit into my E true hollyweird story anyways
though i am reproductively retarded...i know now as a full grown wanker spanker...this is completely normal and natural act of release'n stress...and there's absolutely nothing wrong with "toss'n yer salad" from time to time...
though these days i just lay there like a dead hooker and let my informational highway speeders do the the duty fer me...i mean i am an unintentionally internationally unknown perform'n illusionist of my own universe after all...just make sure at the very least...there's a bucket of crisco near by
recently...a friend told me of how she'd been runn'n thru vats of hair conditioner like it was goin outta style...and with only birth'n 2 moochers...
each of the opposite sex...there was only one simple pimple solution to her conditioner dilemma...though fill'n yer tube socks with yer tube steak was a quick solution to hide yer baby batter...this was not the best solution fer skyrockets in flight...so without embarrass'n the guilty gusher...i suggested she simply purchase stock in the merried of lubrication's on the market these days and slip it in his laundry basket...zero words will ever need to be exchanged...since this is NOT a topic typically discussed between mother and son...
and MOST non homosexual fathers who have penile denial when it comes to teach'n the topic of "spank'n the monkey" would rather their son learn on their own like they did...at the local gym's daily "romance'n the bone" meet'ns
of course there are those CASPER crusade'n parents out there who are vehemently apposed to the touch'n of any tingly parts with their children...
that they would have to chastise for...so is yer lil Gabriel try'n to "blow his horn"?
perhaps Bethany is become'n a blasphemous bad girl by "sinn'n underneath her linen"?
well don't fret my insane brain dead color'n book correctors...
thanx to the makers at Control Toys...yer prayers have been answered...
save yer son's soul by strapp'n him into this easily assembled cross fashioned after Mary's unbiological mistake from a one nite stand with CASPER...with comfortably adjustable canvas straps to help yer child control his urge to purge himself of all that glorious goo stored in his jingle bells...until he is old enough to walk thru the pits of hell down the aisle...with his annoy'n tax write off...comes in 2 confessional colors...baptismal blueberry and deliver me from evil red
deliver yer daughter's from those evil dances with the devil...by buckel'n her into this blasphemous free jacket...made from 100% pure salvationary cotton...completely hand washable with just enough wiggle room fer yer child to stop and think before they touch their purgatory palace...comes in many fashionable designs...or download yer own pentecostal design to shun them from their friends
so there ya have kittens...hopefully my insight into the naturally sinsational demonic lifestyle of "spank'n the monkey" will make you think twice...
the next time you feel the need to "she bop"
start "turn'n japanese"
or just feel like pay'n a nickle fer just a lil pickle tickle
either way...get off my dress!
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