Ornella Muti "I have the white-blue eye of my Gallic ancestors, their narrow skull and their clumsiness in fighting. I find my clothes as barbarous as theirs. Only I don't butter my hair" A quote by Arthur Rimbaud from "a season in hell & The drunken boat" 20-Feb-03, 06:05 PM I heard you didn't get the commercial. Sorry. My friend got it. Ooops you did it again. Liars make bad actors. Get it? Bad karma. What did I tell you? I am sorry you're projecting your anger towards me. It's not my fault you impregnated the ugliest girl in the land of beautiful people. Sorry. Ohh.. she's dumb too... Yes, you did say you didn't love her. And you were over at my place less than a month ago wishing she would pack her shit and move to Texas. And weren't you trying to impregnate me? Yes. You are such a liar. What kind of world do you live in? You are a dillusional piece of shit. You're nothing. Worthless. Whore. By the way I am quite secure with my sexuality. But obviously you are not hence you feel the need to fuck men. I value intimacy. Get it? No, you don't. You impregnate a dumb, ugly runaway...you fuck any girl with a pussy and any guy with a dick. You're pathetic, truly. You keep saying you hate being alive, so why don't you do this world a favor and go shoot up some heroin...please. Spare us from the devil. You take innocents and break them. You're filthy, dirty human being. I hate you more than you could possibly ever imagine. Go and pretend you are this great charismatic... good looking snake... because people are stupid. Nobody sees through your pathetic tricks. Liar. Faggot. Sick mutilated bastard. Thanks for the poem. By the way my social life is just peachy... and yes, I had lunch with the President of Virging Records...Ray Lott... yeah Psycho like me. Faggot. Oh yeah..and I have a job in the music industry. Stupid Faggot. Don't ever call me. Ever. You hear that. Ciao lover. Editor's note: How you sleep at night only god must know. Your word's polish off your delusions nicely. i see you with binoculars and binaca going through that star's trailor in your own mind, but alas, nobody's home. The sad thing is i almost feel sorry for you, but not quite. Also; please refrain from calling me your lover. That is an impossible assumption and giving credit where none is do.