Delectable Dissertation

Bombarded with requests -- some textual, some sexual -- I'm here to ramble, now, slyly, spookily, erotically. Watch out! Anthony C is officially my merchandise man. Not sure what to call him; according to Mr. C, "merch guy" is lame. Let's get this cat an official title. Considering three: Resident Item Creator, Delicate Designer, and Keeper of the Products of the Nick Rapper Metaverse. Comment this entry with better labels. Thanks! A few tidbits. Get ready, Fictional Account enthusiasts, for some more humanoids to say "Hey, what is up, future friend?" to. Entirely based on pronounced commands, super by the way. In other words, these guys want to be part of the canon of doom. Aesthetically pleasing doom. Ascetically seething doom. So the stickers shall be ready soon. Note to Fictional Account characters: the stickers you receive will be devoid of charge. You are my blog. Sorry, fans -- you'll get the short end of the money stick . . . twenty dollars per sticker. Update time. Kate B is in love, Concetta K is alive and well, and Jill C is high right now. High on life! Not really . . . honestly, she's coked out like nobody's business. Male time! Ryan A has to clean his room. He was gonna do it this weekend, but ya know, like, uh, well, annoying speech disfluency. In the back row -- yeah, you. State the reason for your swaying hand. "What's speech disfluency, Dr. Rapper?" Well, youngling, you have good question asking skills. You know when, like, your friend lost her, like, bike -- psyche, she's like, kidding with, like, you. When you read that sentence in my post, was it consistent, was it fluent? Thought so, valley kid. Where were we? Well, by the looks of things I was recounting Ryan A's failure to clean his living space while our lesson broke out, sporadically and importantly. Julian G was not at school today -- I wish him well. Christian P has been helping out our community -- building bridges, mowing lawns, escorting elderly, speaking clearly, writing pretentiously, comma, period. I can only name one more man in my ramble -- you'll see why in a Jiff peanut butter buy it today. Sorry guys -- told y'all earlier I was gonna corporatize Nick Rapper's fortress of blogdom (last time I use that phrase, swear to God). Moving forward at a remarkably snail-like pace, Dave has been busy filming the last entry to the "incest porn shit" saga, titled, oh get ready, Cloudy with a Chance of Rape, Pedophilia, Relatively Tasteful Incest, Rape 2.0, Possible Lawsuits, Jen, Necrophilia, Bestiality, Voyeurism, Various Pornographic Scandals Including Many Involving Celebrity Sex Tapes, and Most Importantly, Intelligent Discussion Aided by Tea. Munch on that and have a nice day.