The first issue I would like to address is who is the caretaker aka pimp aka master blaster of Neil/Neopet. Neopet is mine. He was mine before he got a girlfriend and a man lover. When I came out of my mother's womb, my first words were "A LANKY, SLUTTY BOY THREE YEARS OLDER THAN ME IS GOING TO BE MY PROPERTY". Alas, I have been reunited with my property! When I first bonded with him, I lifted my leg and urinated on him, the acidic pee scratching my initials into his left buttcheek. This is MY mark. He is mine. I control his brain. I can sell him to a sweatshop or to Hefner if I want. Why is he so successful in life? Me. Who got men stuffing dollar bills down his undies? Me. Who got him to star in Chinese pron comedies? Ni-I mean.....me. Duh. So don't mess with me. I'm the man behind the sekahsee hairy legs, Bieber hair, and charming boyish smile.
This, my friends, is Mr. Neopet's glamour shot. Just kidding. I couldn't find a picture of him so I found one that was accurate. Look at those creamy thighs.Another hot topic that has caused brouhaha in probably everyone's minds (or pants) is my strange, irratic behaviour with fruits. Today, I humped a bag of avocados. That is all. Some people judge. Haters be the hating. Life goes on, and I will continue humping bags of grapefruit or avocado. And maybe even bags of frozen shrimp and kettle corn. Who knows.
Also, another life goal has been completed! I bought my first pair of oxford shoes on eBay, which means I get to walk to school in sultry, 70's sitcom style. Now all I need is a pair of horn rimmed glasses and a swooshy pompadour to woo all of the ladies. Or, I just whip out my dick. I have recently tattooed the troll face on it, by the way. It is a major turn on to the internet/know your meme savvy people. Which also means that I have banged everyone on the world wide FREAKING web.
Baby bologna is on a list of foods that I want to try in my life. I mean, who doesn't want to eat baby sausages? When people say "You're so cute that I could eat you up" is pretty literal in this context. I've heard that the baby bologna is made with a bunch of preservatives but hey, tis hard to keep baby meat fresh, apparently it is insanely perishable. Also, people say that there are baby by-products in the bologna, some people have claimed they have eaten a baby pee pee. That's hazardous to your health, kids, but I'm still going to taste this foreign, European food trend baby bologna.
So you might've wondered how my women's day went. Well, first I went to the seamy downtown of Amsterdam, went to "cat" houses and raised some hell. I brought snazzy combat boots and leotards and bras to all of the hoes and then I taught them how to tame lions, ride motorcycles, and Irish riverdance. One of the hoes, Svetlana became an underwater basket weaving business woman. I am quite proud of her. After that, I made a cameo in America's Next Top Model and forced the ladies to eat Twinkies until they got curvy, hourglass figures like me. Unfortunateley, Tyra passed out when this happened and I'm not entirely sure what happened to her after that. But me, the curvy and sexy models AND the cross dresser Miss Jay ran across the Golden Gate Bridge while "I'm Coming Out" played in the background and we ran and high fived epically. Then, we all went out to have brunch and do hardcore pilates. I actually didn't do anything on my list. But, I did hurt a few men and went shirtless, also being running around scandalously in a yellow tee shirt, ahh yeahh. Miss Jay is a guy, if you people didn't notice.
Hoho. Last but not least would be the riveting discussion topic of boy choirs. Boy choirs, especially the ones from random places in Europe really get my motor going, if y'all know what I mean. They are so thick n' creamy, with crooning Justin Bieber voices. Yum. When our choir met the Arizon Boys' Choir I almost orgasmed. So many delicious young men in colorful attire with awkward smiles, underdeveloped bodies, and braces. And this, children, is why I got kicked out of choir. Just kidding. I quit because I quit. Choir got boring, and this voice is grammy worthy.
You can see why I like them choirboys.....No just kidding. I inveigled all of them thick n' creamy boys into a room and pinched their buttcheeks, and this is the story of how I got kicked out. Sad, but true. Who can't resist the gleaming butts of choirboys? Not I.
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