Fwoosh! To feel flustered. A fierce-some flying ferocious flaming fist of Fateful fiery fury. This flail, no mere flamboyance, is a fancy force to forget and forgive the furtive fornication of fumbling fucktards, now futilely failing against the finale. However, this fabrication of ferocity stands to fight the foul, fence off the frontage of foes, falsify the fiendish fortitude of forlorn fetuses, flinging folks into frenzy. The only fashion is a fibrillation; a finishing flutter, not to feign, but for favoring the floccinaucinihilipilification of foolishness. Fake? Forsake it. For I have forgotten my formalities. Finally finished...
You may call me Falcon Punch.
~Written by me
Current Residence: Victoria, Texas
Favourite genre of music: Techno or Melodic Death Metal
Favourite photographer: Albert Stichka
Favourite style of art: Surrealism
Operating System: Windows 7 (VM: Linux Ubuntu 10.04)
MP3 player of choice: Zune
Shell of choice: Gnome
Wallpaper of choice: They just cycle
Favourite cartoon character: Dexter
Personal Quote: Internet: All of the piracy, none of the scurvy.