Collection of Dreams

The answer to EG's question is harder than doing complex statistical modelling.
I collect toyboys in my dreams.
At least that is more normal than me saying I'm bored of the male population, aye?

I thought of quitting on this blog. Just a thought.
Second thought is to keep it and remain anonymous.
The idea of letting people read about my life and thoughts is stupide.
Because my life and thoughts are pretty screwed.

I'm currently reading on My Uncle Oswald by Roald Dahl.
Roald Dahl writes for kids. Remember Charlie and the Chocolate Factory?
But this book is about sexy frolics and exotic copulation and weird fornication.
Now you see why it interests me.

It is about this smart bloke named Oswald Cornelius. A womanizer. A fornicator.
He travels around collecting spermatozoa from the kings and geniuses in a rubbery thingy. With the help of Yasmin. A Cleopatra.
Freeze the millions of wrigglers under the perfect temperature with liquid nitrogen.
And the observation is that geniuses have got much larger pizzles than ordinary dudes.

I shalt stop a bit here.