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| November 16 2001 Friday Managed to balance a Pork Farms snack size pork pie on my dick, a bit of blue tack helped. My dick definitely isn't as thick, which means that as well as being not long enough it's not thick enough either. Brain Damage says that if I want a bigger dick I should play with it, but I don't see how I can play with it any more than I do already, so I've made an appointment to see the doctor to see if there's anything that can be done about it. One thing's for sure, a five and three quarter inch todger which isn't as thick as a Pork Farms snack size pork pie isn't going to keep an Atomic Kitten happy. I'd think you would need one as thick as a French garlic sausage at least. My father apologised to the postman yesterday so we got some mail today. Three letters for my father. An invitation to subscribe to Readers Digest and two red bills. It cheered me up a bit but not enough to make me forget the problem I've got with my stopped growing dick. To take my mind off it I let my mind wander, as I sometimes do, and it wandered once more to one of life's great puzzles - why do they always make for your ears when you're outside? Because they do. I mean there's only wax in there, so why do they find them so attractive? It's always puzzled me, so if anyone out there in cyberspace knows the answer please drop me an e-mail me know, I'd be very interested to know. My mother has booked has booked my father for parking on a double yellow line. He is livid. She says she'd already started writing out the ticket before she realised it was our car, and anyway, why was it parked outside the Helping Hand Massage Parlour? My father said it was bloody parked there because he was next door at the pet shop buying a new rabbit. Thinking about the above later, I wondered what with all the suspicion about the massage parlour if a divorce might be on the cards? A seperation would do. I hope so because the wife always gets custody of the children, and although my mother is a bit of a pain sometimes at least she doesn't use me as slave labour. I'm going to have to track my father's movements and see if I can't catch him coming out of the massage parlour. |
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