#radioactive damage

Apparently, the movement happened, shit stalls were occupied, so primitive-man ages fare about how jaunted the shitness “reality, though,” waiting-line boycott; to, and in spite of standard shit-bearing guys: bums, no less, yet such staunch inequality push against civil rights and common fare of having jaunt-ass shit done to the shit-loiterer, in our most heroic inaginations. Yet, suddenly, they disappeared, as al fresco Dubai, out of nowhere, as they came. The ostensible jig of the moment is opioids; I suppose it’s valid. Accommodating a needle user is like asking for the borderline shit to bubble up, from underneath, yet this wasn’t ex-girlfriend territory. Real dudes, with standard shitness profiles were feeling the pinch against the ostensibly du jour fare, amongst society, more reasonably so, I’d say. Supposedly, some guy I met recently, who contends about abstractions and tangents that vaguely resemble critical theory and aesthetics classic golden age rhetoric, so 729 dot whatever, or 714 dot something section of the library. I totally did that jaunt, just skimming the surface, though. The also-rans of the washed-up academic fare demographics; ostensibly,we were the fuckboytastic-est cog in the wheel, as far as drug use / sobriety standard base line goes, amongst peers, and or faculty. Music, fine arts? Well enough? Valid bounds, yet this guy, something. Supposedly he’s older, “and now.” Me, I just comment on the folklore, and latch on to trite little fickle jigs about a writing gig, since craigslist, (lately), is so beyond golden age ice-age freeze, on valid responses; it’s really that bad. Over here, in CA, LA, at least. DTLA. And then a staunch movement towards non-shitsicles about the bowls gets bold and expansive; it’s common enough for a standard bathroom shit patron, as-is, as if standard wasn’t a toilet thing, valid, somehow. Obviously, it’s a tired subject, enough, for fluff about rounds some ostensibly “complaint” disposition about unskilled “workers,” or “whatever,” as “shooting up” people, so fuckboy leisurely. The radioactive decay profile development of a wash-up, from recently nearby, or did they jaunt, to contend, perhaps? Standard people take 2 shits by the time someone glosses over substantiation to the effect, thereof. Of shitsicles, already; standard ass people, of various ilk, contend that the bathroom is for excrement. Shooting up dope, fixing up, fuck yeah, shoes-off type of shit is so ostensibly “okay, I can see that; totally,” kind of appearance amongst the public. Sitting there, like the story’s just enveloping the subject, so to-order, pwned, on his own jaunt, type of thing, is just improper; how could “just sitting there, and staring” develop into “how my shit’s security” and “I profile guys that look like that; it’s shitty, it’s blatant, it’s ostensibly a hate crime in the making.” Ostensibly, standard ass dudes of that sort of ilk assume no less than fuckboyabilityness jaunt, on some sitting there, and waiting, shit, is reasonably the way to work the way in to becoming a grand park local, with actual bums doing du jour, so already, had happened to have been filled, position. Yet, there’s seats, still, they imaginably contend. Bring the sober-living home group lunch jaunt out on the green lawn, on the shit fare, on the ostensible human space that this one feels. * fills Somehow, dudes like that are so particle beam accelerator, on over to me, since I’m targeted, and I have to see that guy as that person, rather than a guy like me, who’s content to eat garbage, proper, and do recyclables collecting, about town. Jaunting against the standard-ass guy, shitsicles, in the bowl, in-and-out, kinda guy? Pretty fucking other side of the park, kinda thing. The petty theft ostensible nuclear radiation profile, so “we get it; we ‘care,’ but the novelty is so subjective and we hate that.” As strangely as they showed up, prolifically, beyond explanation, why question? Such trite showing up, anonymous; perhaps. Needle users do weird shit like that, in any capacity, to spite standards, like it’s their prime. Ostensibly, standard dudes don’t have a want, or a need, to do that. We rely on our Christian upbringing, so annoyingly trite, about it, but it validly, supposedly, stops real bums of nearby to assert themselves. The syntax on that last sentence is so never me. Would they appreciate it if standard dudes just up and decided that they had to use the ladies room, instead? So trite caveman statistical plot point instance event original wheel maker attitude about it; yet patience is what we whet this country on; real bible stuff, so they don’t do folklore about Jesus Christ, du jour. Ostensibly, perhaps someone tells this sort about a spot like tumblr, where blogging runs like shitsicles on a jaunt ass wash up, in the laundromat, needs some a la carte social compassion; I just don’t really do shitsicles like that, not even imaginably memorably so. On one hand, the more patience I have, the more the folklore presents itself as a rich tapestry of “hey, but remember? Aficionado ass shit, about it. The shit-taking.” Kind of stuff that gay dudes used to show up in my head, like “butt plugs in, butt plugs out. Butt plugs in, butt plugs out.” It conceivably did not reach absolutely everyone in the demographic. Jaunt ass people who just sit there, conceivably appeared from out of nowhere, never to be identifiably witnessed, as “the guy who seriously shit like that, but flushing... never.” Healthy people ostensibly radiate the wtf is this, now, non-standard bums, contending that cal trans hadn’t been maintaining qc standards, about how accommodations, now; just shown up. But, as the one dude, who totally did Harvard, now he’s here, a line producer; a bum, would speak, in refrain, “we don’t wanna fight about their “already there” position, in society: ostensibly, as applies to legitimate homosexuals, meanwhile, this guy does so Arkansas southern accommodations, hearken back, kinda thing. Back then, shits weren’t so contentious. These guys, reasonably, simply do not answer to anyone. Bold as fuck. The longer they squat, the more radiation wavelength transformations jaunt through their ostensible “all-over;” conceivably, the light of ages past shines throughout them, and they become cavemen. A guy like me will run, just off-hand, based on a slight suggestion, just to offset the quantum valid co-occurring shitnessless trite fate about how the stalls are occupied; it’s an ostensible quiet protest against feminism, or femininity. Folklore tangential quantum physics lifetimes had been accommodated, for the fact that our schedules had crossed; this one, he doesn’t run, ever. Reasonably, the radioactive profiles of such contentious otherwise people-as-fare is the necessary accommodation, depravity standards alleviation, off an ostensibly otherwise okay guy, yet the meeting never happens. It’s trite, but not appearing as a valid squat staunch shitter, (sometimes, though. [only]) is pretty new, bold, and assertive stance. Like they’re out to get the guy who did that shit, actually wrote about it; the dalliances, du jour. Reasonably, we make the news, we cover the story, we cover the relativity thing; “this guy ostensibly does UK like pigeons, du jour.” Similarly, sourdough boy conventions start to establish themselves, completely aside from organic methods and principles. Standard ass guys don’t like being thrown by the wayside, for the sake of homosexuality assertions, rumors, unheard, and, reliably, enough, “this guy is fucking gay” kinda shit about how jaunt it would be, to rob this guy of his mobile devices, otherwise, trite ass shit. Somebody does shit like that. Standard people think that they’re the guy who looks like he’d do some unimaginable shit, like that; they do that shit.