something happened to me last Thursday when I was driving home. I had a couple of miles to go - I looked up and saw a glowing orange object in the sky, to the east! It was moving very irregularly. Suddenly there was intense light all around me, and when I came to, I was home. What do you think happened to me?"

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Listen up you bunch of roody-poo ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥. I've been seeing a lot of so-called "tough guy internet trolls" here lately talking a big game about how they think they can handle Andy Sixx and his sopping hot log of ♥♥♥♥ SLIDDING down their ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥ throats. (That's right, ♥♥♥♥♥. It's spelled "slidding". S-L-I-D-D-I-N-G. Deal with it.) Ha! You make me laugh, kiddo. You really do. Did you seriously think you could just wash up here and slurp that corn-studded behemoth of creamy ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥ ♥♥♥♥ out of ANDY SIXX's sexy, gothcore rectulum?

Did you really think you'r sorry ass could just waltz right out for amateur hour and part those pale, black veil buttcheeks and tongue -punch the fecal feeding bar like some sort of ass-♥♥♥♥ munching butthole rat? PSHHT come on kid, get real. I eat pieces of ♥♥♥♥ like you for breakfast. Andy's ♥♥♥♥. I bet Andy wouldn't even be able to get off a little pre-♥♥♥♥ fart before your ♥♥♥♥♥ lips curled in defeat. You think when Andy takes a break from performing on a hot stage in leather pants and goes to craft services and eats two dozen raw oysters that were not properly handled or refrigerated washed down with a quart of whole milk and tequila - that Andy just squeezes out of his skin-and-air-tight pleather slacks and goes easy on your throat? You ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥ wish, jr.

When Andy says he's ready to blow the walls off a 110-degree warped-tour portajon and your pathetic little tonsils can't even take the first loaf, I'll put my hand on your shoulder and say, "Nothing personnel, kid" and then suck down every last heaping ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥ clogger andy pumps out. And I'll come back for seconds. And thirds.You know why? Because I have Logtismo. Because I believe in three things and three things only: the cream, the steam, and the ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥ dream, baby. So step aside, keep your little logsucking fantasy in your mind where it belongs, and let the real men do the slidding. His log loaf is mine, ♥♥♥♥♥. What are you gonna do about it?