zanyllama52
The details of my life are quite inconsequential… very well, where do I begin? My father was a relentlessly self-improving boulangerie owner from Belgium with low grade narcolepsy and a penchant for buggery. My mother was a fifteen year old French prostitute named Chloe with webbed feet.
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Joined 1 year ago
Cake day: June 29th, 2023
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According to Alfred Matthew Yankovic:
There were seventy three of us living in a cardboard box.
All I got for Christmas was a lousy bag of rocks.
Every night for dinner, we had a big ol’ chunk of dirt.
If we were really good, we didn’t get dessert.