When I say fag or queer or rollerblader I want all you gay fuckers to calm down and know that “I get it.” Don’t start burning your Barbara Streisand cd’s in protest or emailing Perez Hilton with tales of bigotry. It’s like Ni**er (*=g) for black people. They can say it to each other but when my white ass tries to throw some shoulder bumping “what’s up” to my black friends with that verbal queue; they get pissed. I understand because when I call all my fat friends on the phone the first words out of my mouth are, “What’s up you fat fuck.” I’m fat so I can say that but if Sean were to call any of these same people fat, he’d be snapped like a twig (pun intended). The same thing used to go for my daughter’s mom when we were doing the makeup breakup thing. I could call her a lying cheating skank whore but when my friends did I would get fucking bent. It was like, “great, now if we get back together I am going to have to cut you.” I love all my gay man friends in a straight way and if you want to smoke cock pole its fine by me… just not mine for more than a few minutes as long as nobody finds out. When it comes to lesbians I am mixed with my feelings. When I see two ugly women together I think, “Sweet, two birds knocked out with one stone.” It’s like your mother-in-law and the IRS dying in the same plane crash. When one of the women are hot it makes me pissed because the reality sets in that I will never fuck them and my masturbatory fantasies are thus ruined (Thanks Crystal). As men that’s what we do. Every woman we meet we decide then and there if we would fuck her. If the answer to our internal question is yes, somewhere between the next 3 seconds and the next 3 months we picture her naked and possibly think about what sex would be like with her. Let me clarify, this is what all straight men do. Anyway, I have love for all mankind minus the meth heads and the dirty pig fuckers who run the carnival games at the fair.
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