PrisonPenPals ~ Gold Star Ads

I'm straight and still have my purple eggplant . . . .

I need someone to explain to me the fine arts of this advanced culture . . . . . butts. People worship butts now. Sick. Rick + Morty? No. Just huge giant butts. And over-priced plastic basketball shoes . . . Shocking.

. . . . I'm not getting mail am I.

I know nothing of your civilized ways, your smelly deodorants and perfumes . . I live amongst the animals . . throwing stones at them.

(Am I supposed to shoot my shot?)

Now, I need two hearts in my journey. . . FIRST I'm not stopping until I have my rescue dog (or cat). SECOND, we’ll be pursuing solutions in our over-priced shoes and getting involved, within the community, instead of continuing our paths of-walking, Halloween candy and Devil's music (as we’re kind of both in need of new beginnings). THIRD, my rescue will have the squanchiest name.

Concerning my weirdness: I don't plan on dying miserable. I make voodoo dolls . . tough metrosexual ones held together with money and bubble gum. I'm not crappy enough to blend in. Seek that one special person in search of an above-average experience. Be their friend.

If you actually read all of this, you're weird, don't write me.

Without a picture.

LOL, of your face.

P.S. My passion is creativity, breaking misconceptions, transcending common abusive social norms and showing passion, where people create fear and hate. I've been driven to give up by less-creative people, who choose to perpetuate pain they've been given. The way I dress, talk, act is not an immediate call for narrow-minded infantile ideologies. And only your fear of me lies the fear in you.

If you feel like being creative, write me.