Now it's my pal Tobin who stepped on his wee-wee. Before that it was my paisano/hero Santangelo whose salami drained his brain of blood-keeping him from thinking straight. But first it was bossman Robbins whose actions gifted "B" with $500k?
So what did I do, being the tough guy standup Teamster that I am?
I sissily (not sicily) kept my wimpy mouth shut, went along with the program (screw the members) with my tail between my legs, and bailed out as soon as I could-and not a second later.
I know Spanky Lasagna has trashed people here but please don't trash him. I can't help that I am really a phony little queebie, or that I am scared of my shadow. I have to live with myself knowing that, and it's not easy. Especially when I've shot my mouth off forever.
IF YOU MUST KNOW I HATE MYSELF MORE THAN YOU COULD RIGHTFULLY HATE ME. I AM NOTHING BUT A PUNK!
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California weenie washers
Started by Guest_the sissy bull bill_*, Mar 09 2010 11:15 PM
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