My dearest old lady, who always cares for me, asked me after the kidnapping who lived and black shit to buy, would have to go some piscologo, as this thinking that I'm becoming a bit cuckoo. So I ignored him, and I went to the office of one of the most famous psychologists of Spain: Dr. Conchita Segura De Cabezas Rojas. I slept on the couch and told him all my stories, to pass with Michael Jackson, my thoughts about my metrosexuality, and I said as I put him cheating on my wife with a creature with big teeth. After a
long analysis of Dr. Conchita, came to the conclusion that I have post trauma psicolodologismo tramautologico of post post post post chromatic recontra . I asked him what that meant, and she said it very simple: you're sick in the head! As I was satisfied with his diagnosis, I asked a second opinion, and said "good, except that you are crazy, you are very ugly."
Now I have to take my painkillers that the doctor sent me, the straitjacket that sent me to hospital, and the bosal from the pound, so you can have a stable life. GRACE 'DOCTORS!
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