i made this site on my phone
Created on: January 28th, 2011
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i knew this was you by the title.
i was not surprised you have these kinds of pictures on your phone.
do slip into your fantasy world and pretend you took these pictures with your phone's camera while you're on your imaginary cartoon dates? in that world, you never get laid. you only get to see big-white-panty upskirt peeks and your nose bleeds every time your elbow nudges a boob on the crowded subway.
i was not surprised you have these kinds of pictures on your phone.
do slip into your fantasy world and pretend you took these pictures with your phone's camera while you're on your imaginary cartoon dates? in that world, you never get laid. you only get to see big-white-panty upskirt peeks and your nose bleeds every time your elbow nudges a boob on the crowded subway.
someone knocks on the door of your one room apartment. same time as last night and all the nights before. you tell yourself it's the wind and not the land lord but really it's the shy, tomboyish underage miniskirt who lives in the big house up on the hill. she can see you at your computer desk from her bedroom window and watches every day when you wake up at 2 p.m. on the dot to kiss your anime girl body pillows "good morning loves" and switch on the laptop, light a cigarette, Yakisoba in the microwave. when will you finally open the fucking door? get over your fear of people. she mocks you on her blog, believing she hates you after every one of her half-assed nightly attempts to lurk around your life so she can feel there is someone else even more pathetic than she is.
you finally meet her, a bumping-into outside the convenient store. she's standing around the corner she knew you had to pass to get back to your place. her eyes are closed and she's trembling, waiting. shame holds your head down when you walk so the first thing you see is her baby tits before knocking her down. tits. om nom, cue your anime nosebleed. you each share an oversized sweat bead with a squeak sound effect. you can see her panties. your other nostril leaks and you cover your whole face and run, farting with every step you take.
flash forward six months. you've been seeing each other nearly every day. you haven't told her how you feel - you can't tell her how you feel, it brings your piss to a boil. steam spouts out your angry hard-ons. you swear her tits have gotten bigger since the day you met her. and they should have, she's young. that's biology my friend. her caller ID picture in your phone is a screen grab from your favorite gal game. she looks like Hitomi, your favorite gal character. you've played all the way through seven times yet each time you pick Hitomi as your final match despite the twelve other girl choices the game provides. you're in the park with her, the girl from up the hill, not Hitomi from the game but you imagine she's Hitomi. the park is boring, she's boring. you're in the Desert of Love and Rose Petals with Hitomi and she's holding a giant apple. apple, original sin? you want to take a bite of it but something's holding you back as always. in the game you can bite it so in your head you do. you could take a bite of Hitomi but not this girl. if only she were real. you're so boring. you come to the conclusion that you're boring but so is this fucking girl sitting with you in the park, in silence. look how boring you two are.
you get flustered with it all, red in the face. your ass gets so tight it hurts and your groin spasms. you leave abruptly. she says nothing as you stumble away. you're back at your apartment chugging beer from cans. you need to use two hands to crush each can against the floor. this upsets you and you cut your hand. you wonder if Hitomi is watching you from her window. she's not. you remember you just left her in the park. not Hitomi. you slink over to your gal game and throw on your headphones. fuck this gal game, you hate it now. instead, you upload your friend's caller ID photo to your favorite non-anime girl website - a website you're slowly turning into an anime-girl website, in your own way.
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