This Isn't Hollywood

No, it isn't. This is a REAL PERSON who, every dog-gone day, blesses you, graces you, and exhorts you to guess what amazing things are in my mouth. I've only missed a couple of days since October 2005. That's THE very DEFINITION of DEDICATION. And all you rug munchers do is sit on your candy asses and complain about your diversity, about your own troubles n' woes, and I keep telling you that NOBODY wants to hear about how you're treated around here. N.O.B.O.D.Y.

This isn't some Hollywood production where a happy ending is a sure fire thing. Nosireebob. Your very existence depends on what's in my mouth, so youse better start fo-cusing. GWiMMRN:

A) A wedding invitation RSVP envelope without a fucking stamp on it.
B) A humiliating incident where the 'Dances With Wolves' star "kept putting his hand underneath his towel", and when she began to massage his head he "grabbed her wrist forcefully, whipped off his towel and exposed himself".
C) Your tip? A load from Kevin Costner's dick.
D) The grumbles from the dude who had to "jizzmop" the masseusse's room after Kevin Costner got 'finished.'
E) Keys to the Kingdom.
F) A Hollywood ending: Chocolate ice cream with rainbow sprinkles.
G) A GWiMMRN ending: A big, fat cock.