Charlie Sheen FaF?

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Hey, I’m Charlie Sheen. I’m writing this from a hospital bed because I rage. In fact, I fucking rage balls. Ok, so I’m technically a geed. In fact, just looking at me will let you know that I’m a huge geed. But hear me out, I think there’s a strong case to be made that I could possibly be FaF. In fact, all I wanna do is frat. I didn’t go to college because, well, my Dad was a fucking millionaire and I didn’t have to. Now I’m old and all I have is my ability to rage. I know you think you’re cool ripping keybumps in the bathroom at Buffalo Wild Wings, but newsflash douche: I pack a briefcase full of blow when I party. Oh, and every skank that I roll with is DTF. How am I so sure? They’re fucking porn stars. They get paid to get plowed. Is it classy? No, not at all. But am I ripping gator tails off of fake knockers on the reg? Looks like it. Please look past my high levels of geediness and understand that I only want to rage. And my brother is Gordon Bombay. Thanks.

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