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RECIPE FOR HAPPINESS
1/2 cup don't know
1/2 cup need to know but can't find the answer
1/2 cup knowing that i'll never know
sprinkle in some purpose, not too much or it spoils the happiness broth; purpose is a secret ingredient that even the chef doesn't know the flavor of
a hint of thyme and time, you always need time to complete the tasks, time is more of a commodity than money
a sanctuary to prepare a side dish all alone, in privacy, privacy for you and i to feel with and play with my hard erect throbbing juicy wet penis, all long, as long as a ten-foot pole, i don't want to know if i'm dreaming, you wouldn't touch it with a ten-foot pole, but i do, stroking and masturbating in peace
time to spice up the dish: may i touch your breasts? may i lay on your large tits, lay my worldweary head? thank you, i need to rest from this crazy world, i need to lie in repose on your body and feel the togetherness of two as one, head on huge pillows, stroking them, fondling them, sucking them, circling the nipples, tasting the broth of life
and then round the dish out with a heaping tablespoon of Reader's Digest
a rounded teaspoon of Jeopardy! to keep up the illusion that if i can answer pop questions in the form of a question i am somehow smart
a smattering of Oprah's Favorite Things, not too much or it becomes a drug which replaces love
dip in a glaze of religion, for color more than anything, color more than substance
and mix all ingredients in a large oversize wooden bowl full of splinters. if you prick yourself and get cut, a little blood won't hurt the broth, but many cooks will. besides, being a prick, it fits.
oh, forgot the final ingredient that melds it all together into one dynamic life-force plate of energy, not an oven, not a microwave, but pure
ELECTRICITY, CLICK HERE, RIGHT HERE AT THIS LINK
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