I don't have time for this

I really don't. I have more tagible things to do, but I feel that I have neglected you dear cyberspace. The very cyberspace that weened me through my formative years as a female bearded body piercing enthusiast, tantric contortionist, yogurt producing pharmacist, and fire crapping circus midget by nurturing my insatiable desire for porn. Cyberspace, I love you. You dear cyberspace, who gave a nine year old boy a glimpse of the world he could only dream of, unfettered, uninhibited, and without proper support. You showed me a world that was not propped up with wires and pads. But rather, a world whose big saggy ya-ya's were in my face and undulating rapidly. Many names are you known by, "The internet, the web, the narcotic emporium of Robert Downy Jr." These names do you call your own. But to me you are simply... Papa.(a single tear runs slowly down the work of art that is my face) It is true. My face is made of plaster and sequins. And yes it does suck when I get caught in the rain with no umbrella or china man to follow me around with a palm branch and pre-chew my mac n' cheese. But you dear friend, are missing the point. The internet is for porn!