Sail the eloquent squalor of what but the camaraderie of the weight-loss industry!

You want “Street Cred”, well I’ll feed you with my paid-taxes that I have always paid taxes, to “The Fed” the government with an Incorporated business in my nuclear (I pray for peace!) family who, yeah my Trust Fund is accumulating more mo’ munition at moment and me loving my Marquis Family (AIM: “Marquis Parents”) they pay about $20k each month for “Rent”—me happy here at “Averte” when I love talking with my Aunt Donna Donohue—she knows they feed me delicious low-carb food, and although I’m not working out much or at all, I stand sort of tall but under six feet, here at “Averte” I’m fed well with my groceries—I don’t have my car here, it’s safe at home in Charlton, MA—3.5 hours away from my real Home with my “Health-Proxy” parents!!!

When once a kitty pounces upon a pillar, it’s a Magination Criteria to clean the outside of a vehicle—yeah, it’s Exterior of Carnauba Wax sold on the racks of Auto’s in The proverbial “ZONE” when I drone to the fate of a fat fuck eating junk food on a huge, giant plate, and to wait, until well Summertime—pledging allegiance to my waistline—to lose 5 lobsters in a meth lab or at the pounded bloody bludgeoned face, the disgrace of pleaded peppers on Uncle Salmons kept and sour loungetail loins—what a place, and to be,

Me pretty FIT

Months ago:

Me lazy TITS

I guess so!