Good Lord! I, too, hate.

Could this be the sort of intimate connection... visceral kinship, if you will... that I require to begin the process of healing all those decades of ulcerous embitterment that have shriveled my soul into a caustic fist of contempt for all of life and humanity?

Is this the feeling Joe Mama gets when he finds a McDonalds with a populated PlayLand? Is this... love?




Oh, that was Elisa? Never mind. That reminds me, though... I need to pluck my eyebrows. And my butt cleavage.

Time-Travelling Player Hater Extraordinaire. I hope Joe Mama comes to your house and uses your bathroom. If you cross me, I'll go back in time and pull out of your momma.