I'M A DISGUSTING WORTHLESS BILGESACK ON THE GARGANTUAN TEAT OF A LABORING, LEPROUS MUSCLEBEAST. MY SELF ESTEEM IS SO SMALL, ITS EXISTENCE IS A MATTER OF CONJECTURE AMONG THEORETICAL PHYSICISTS. I SMELL SO BAD, THE STENCH CANNOT BE EXPRESSED WITH EVEN THE MOST ELOQUENT, FLORID LANGUAGE. THE ODOR MY BODY MAKES HAS MADE POETS CRY. I HAVE WON SPECIAL AWARDS FOR DISCOVERING NEW PLACES TO TOUCH MYSELF EROTICALLY WHILE FARTING. I UNFAIRLY PULVERIZE THE COMPETITION IN ASSHOLE PAGEANTS, AND I HAVE RECEIVED A LIFETIME BAN FROM UGLY CONTESTS BY PRESIDENT SHITFACE HIMSELF. MY BLOOD IS NOT FIT TO FLOW THROUGH A SEWER, AND MY SIGN IS A PICTOGRAPHIC SYMBOL THAT LOOSELY TRANSLATES AS "PLEASE HIKE THESE PANTS UP TO THIS GUY'S ARMPITS, CHAIN HIM TO A FLOGGING JUT, AND MAKE A FUCKING EXAMPLE OUT OF THIS SORRY SACK OF SHIT." WHEN I LOOK IN A MIRROR, MY REFLECTION SLOWLY SHAKES HIS HEAD WHILE I WET MYSELF IN SHAME.