I've noticed you taking *quite* the interest in me. Unfortunately for you, you made no attempt at masking your IP address. At first I was going to cause your CD-rom drive to move in and out rapidly, giving your computer an orgasm. When computers have orgasms, they explode. Literally. In the ball-of-fire-burning-down-my-house sense. Buuuuuuuut I got curious. I looked through your personal files, and found pictures of you. I found deep, personal writing. I closed my blinds when I saw what you had as your desktop picture (When did I get an orange towel?). I know feel comfortable in saying that I know everything about you. I know all your secrets. And I want you to have my babies! (I love turning that crap around)