You may call me the Professor.

stupid bitch: Professor of what?
me: Professor of whatever the fuck i want.
stupid bitch: let me have sex with you.
me: fuck off hoe

Please indulge in some other great creations.

On Friday the 13th, 2005, I hosted a kickass party at my house during the absence of mother and sisters.



It was going very well.. until I could no longer stand without three people holding me up. I had lost all ability to function. My last clear memory is face planting into my staircase. Guess what? I passed out.



My dad arrives.



I am told that i will "not see the sun" the for a long time. However, you the people have one very intriguing thing to gain from my span of solitary confinement.



I have decided to use this period of solipsism to engender a website unlike any other. The Professor likes to call it The Cats in the Kitchen Closet.



I'm the Professor, and whatever i say is the law. I'm a PROFESSOR Goddamnit.

If you were curious, i have changed the names of all of the people who were involved in any of my stories on my website. Also, i have chosen not to disclose my own name in fear of the shit that could be showered upon me from all directions if i were to take responsibility for this website.



To sum it up...



I don't want people running their mouths

AND

I don't want to be fucked in the ass

note: excessive consumption of alcohol can lead to loss of memory, black outs, and one hell of a crazy time.