tomclancy's blog: "tomclancy rockz!"

I casually stumbled upon a bushel of overflowing ubundence, only to find rotton moldy cores of frosted and weathered nectarines, bitter from a hard winter of solitude and BRUTAL oppression. Tomclancy rocks because he walks with a hand of righteousness down his pants and keeps his hat down out of respect for the ugliness of his forehead. On a quest, a quest for a pony, and my dreams have been stolen. A man smelling of cheap crappy single malt scotch and stale hooker crawl and newport lights. A man with little or no tolerance for alcohol, an insatiatble boner for life, and a pony-shaped hole in his heart. Seriously, he's bleeding internally. The fucking rubicks cube is not gonna plug that shit up. Nurse, stat, CCs, gloves, prep, and various other medical terminology.