I picture myself a dark room. There is filthy CRT screen buzzing away its phoshors, and a fat neckbeard sitting next to it. There is collection of anal dildoes all around him and remains of pizzas and potato chip packs, underneath them is a "C++ for dummies" half-eaten by rats. He giggles like a little pig and type another "My Anus" post, while test-driving another dildo in his ass.
>>21
You might be surprised, but at the moment of writing >>16 I was actually wearing a tie, and there were no books at all on my EXPERT ENTERPRISE DESK. And I must assert most vigorously that I was giggling like a little girl, with not a hint of pig.
Name:
Anonymous2010-05-11 17:32
>>22
I too don't have a neckbeard, or any dildoes (anal or otherwise), and no food scraps in my room, and no C++ for dummies. I own the classic Advanced Programming in the Unix Environment, and also the original K&R which I stole from my father. I sometimes do chortle loudly when I think of a particular witty variation of HMA to post. Sometimes I do realize that I am quite a disturbed individual, but most of the time I just assume I'm normal and the rest of the world is wrong
I picture myself a dark room. There is a filthy CRT screen buzzing away its phoshors, and a fat neckbeard sitting next to it. There is a collection of ``autism macro'' posters all over the walls and remains of shits and crap nuggets, underneath them is a "Coprophilia for dummies" half-eaten by rats. He giggles like a little pig and type another "Autism"/"Farts" post, while cumming on another shit and eating it.
I picture myself a dark room. There is a filthy CRT screen buzzing away its phoshors, and a fat autistic faggot neckbeard sitting next to it. There is a collection of Japanese posters all over the walls and remains of shits and crap nuggets, underneath them is a "Structure and Interpretation of Computer Programs" half-eaten by rats. He giggles like a little pig and type another "Read SICP" post, while cumming on another shit and eating it.
Name:
Anonymous2011-05-13 9:09
I picture myself in a dark room. There is a glorious FW900 buzzing away its phosphors, and an underweight neckbeard sitting next to it. There is a collection of ash trays all around him and remains of cup noodles and empty diet coke cans, underneath them is a "Routing Protocols and Concepts" half-chewed by my cats. I giggle like a little girl and type another "/polecat kebabs/" post, while taking another drag from my cigarette.