You should be warned: there’s a post coming about KISS. It’s big. I think it’s not awful, to be honest, but it is about KISS.
So if you want to use the emergency exits, I feel you. I feel you hard. On your pants. I FEEL YOUR PANTS BECAUSE I’VE BEEN WRITING ABOUT FUCKING KISS FOR 20 HOURS AND NOTHING MAKES ANYMORE SENSE.
Hey, buddy.
WHY DO I KNOW WHO MARK ST. JOHN IS?
Let’s lie down for a bit. In the meantime, all you nice folks out there in internet-land enjoy this nice picture of Bobby with his shoes on the bed like some sort of savage.


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