It was nice sharing the experience of talking to you. Although sometimes it did feel awkward, I'll admit, like the rhythm was not in line, like out-of-wacked pistons, or like the divesting oneself of layers of societal-laden robes, and newly fresh again and hanging loosely in the breeze like Whitehousian garden bushes swaying but bashful in the sunshine or overhead fluorescent kitchen light like clichéd trophy passion clutches amidst the heat of the microwave.

But in utter seriousness, really, pleasurable traditions of oral to aural exchange have always become becoming as green-irised eyes come to smiles mirrored even esophaguses smirking twitchy as the tennis match teases slowly until finally the players meet at the net and try to slam the furry lime balls down one another's throats like a translucent purple dildo up a masogynist cow-fucker's ass using a hammer. Thunk thunk thunk.'

I hope this does not come off as coming on...the...ummmm, coming on like an internet pedophile reaching his lecherous wrinkled hands vastly through cyberspace to claw at any willing and hairless crotches. I am just a tennis fan myself. Tennis is great fun. Usually I play against a wall named neurotic Narcissus. Sadly. But nonetheless joy to have at least a wall, and equipment.

In upstanding sincerity

Ted

PS

It seems like human's capacity for creation and destruction increased with the invention of the wheel. It's seriously just like the internet, man.