is Cher Armenian or what? Come on, I can take it. I need the truth. Has Britney Spears ever given anyone a blowjob? Intoxicated minds need to know. It's the quest for truth. The quest for fiber pills. And by the way, I want to go and find whoever decided the its and it's bullshit. I wanna punch them in the fucking face. The it's should be possesive and the its should be the one we can actually use every once in a while. I'm totally fucking fed up. I've had it. I can't decide whether to defecate or masturbate first because if I shit first I got the shit smell lingering and "it's" not too sexy let me tell you, but if I masturbate first my erection won't go down in time and it really bothers me the way it hangs over the toilet rim. It bugs the fuck out of me. And don't even get me started on masturbating at work. Sometimes, you just gotta get that shit out of your system. All of your frustrations just melt away. And they have this policy where they make all the women wear high heals. Please help me out. I just don't understand the trigger. Why does that turn me on so? Mentally, I think that looks totally stupid, but my genitals seem to love it. Don't fucking call me. My mother fucking called me the other day. She was crying on the phone which makes me feel bad I guess, "Tomatoes, I just think when I hear your answering message. It just makes me think that maybe you don't want people to call you, and it makes me really sad. I've been crying all week about it." You neurotic ass mother fucker. I've told you a million times I don't like it when people call me. I'm confused why I even bothered to get a phone. "It's" only 5 dollars a month because according to the government, I'm poor. They call it the life line program. Yes, I need the phone to live. If I never have to use a telephone again in my life, I'll be a happy happy boy. I can't hear what anyone's saying. I mean, I hear the words, but my brain can't compute it. It doesn't make any sense to me. I don't understand when I'm supposed to talk. Call me 323gofag15. I got the ringer turned off, so I won't answer it, but listen to the message. One of my best friends, Fucking John, he called me the other day, and it literally made him mad which I find comical because when I call him, it rings a few times and then, in the middle of a ring, the answering message comes on. So, in other words, he saw I was calling, and then he switched it so the answering service, and then he calls me 5 days later and gets mad at the answering machine. It was a sweet feeling for me. My mother is involved in this program where she experiments with my levels of frustration. She goes and reports her findings with all of the feminist scientists. "Apparently if I constantly adjust the air conditioning level of the automobile, it seems as if Tomatoes' gets a bit fidgety. He seems to exhibit a high level of stress when applying the low level especially." Mind you, "it's" in Texas, "it's" 100 frucking degrees outside jesus fucking christ. Just keep it on fucking high. Don't get me wrong. I don't cuss around my ma. I try to be as sweet as possible to my mother, but she makes it so hard. It takes me minutes to crack, and then I feel like shit about myself. Last November, she was here in LA visiting. She likes to spend money on me. Everything I want, I already got. I don't like having a bunch of shit anyways. So anyways, we went to a book store, and she wanted to buy me a book. She told me to pick out a book, and she was gonna buy it for me. "What ever you want, Tomatoes. Just pick something." So I picked this rad pictorial book about the Third Reich. I love the Holocaust. It amazes me when people are so mean to each other because we all think that we would be so incapable of doing something like that, but if you think that; if you think you could never do something like that, you're full of shit. You've just never been in the right situation. You can inflict pain without flinching just like the next guy. So, she refused saying, "If I was a young woman, and I was over at your house, and I saw you had a book like that, I would totally be disgusted. I wouldn't like you." She judges my level of quality as a human being in what women think about me. Well, I got news for you, Ma: women are humans too, and last time I checked, humans suck whether they have vaginas or not. I mean I prefer them to have vaginas even if I know I'm never going to stick my penises in them. I know this an awful thing to say, but I don't like my mother. She doesn't like me either. She saw an ashtray in my house and she was, "Tomatoes! you let people smoke in your apartment?" She's in disbelief that I don't give a shit about my health. I don't need a bunch of rules when I go over to someone's house. Smoke as much as you want. Rules is what you get at work or walking down the street or visiting a dick. you don't need that shit when you're a guest visiting a friend.