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I took the liberty of writing to you, but I really had to. Because my life may not be long.

The photo you sent online, I saw a nosebleed for the first time, and it happened for the second time. The third time I saw it, it was worse than the previous two, and my nose was running. I didn't dare to look at it easily for the fourth time, for fear that some organs in my lower body were endocrine disorders, causing incontinence. However, I really can't resist your feeling of being ashamed of flowers, so before I look at your photos, I have to do some aerobics and enjoy them. Despite all this care, when I enjoyed your photos this month, I still shed 200CC of nosebleeds and 5 kg of saliva in one day. Later, because the body really couldn't bear it, I had to introduce your photos to everyone, so that everyone could shed nosebleeds and saliva together. Due to the unrestrained viewing of your photos, we have now collectively lived in the Fifth People's Hospital of Shenyang, most of whom live in the endocrinology department, but a few comrades who fail to live up to expectations have been transferred to urology for more advanced treatment. Now the whole Fifth People's Hospital drools every day, and people with nosebleeds and urine bags hanging in the corridor have become the new medical features of this hospital.

I know that you are a girl who loves literature through your self-introduction. We have something in common at this point. I am also a progressive young man who loves literature. Every autumn in Shenyang, there is a young man wearing a black tunic suit, a white scarf around his neck and a book of Shelley's poems on his chest, walking on the fallen leaves. That's me-a standard literary youth. I have a little research on poetry, nicknamed "Split Poet". I think poetry in literary works is an elegant art. You mentioned that you like reading magazines. I have some doubts about your hobbies. I don't think there is anything worth reading in today's magazines. They are extremely kitsch and simply tarnish the moral quality of our readers. Now just open a magazine and the basic story is just a few words: "Sister-in-law, you are my mother in my last life: stepfather, tomorrow I will be your bride." Honey, don't be gay outside tonight. . . . "Exposing the privacy of the proletariat is outrageous! A pure girl like you really shouldn't watch it.

I'm a college student majoring in literature, and I'm a candidate for the National Plan in 1999. In your message, you said that you wanted to associate with boys studying science and engineering. I think as someone who has a crush on you, I want to remind you that all boys in science and engineering are sick, mainly mentally. Because the state has not invested much in their patriotic education, their aesthetic concept is extremely backward. Seeing sows racing in The Story Of Diu Sim, people feel that the boys studying science and engineering belong to anarchism, terror and hunger. It is also because of too digital learning that they have developed a love standard that values quantity over quality. The aftermath of this situation is terrible. I once wrote a poem that summed them up as a whole: "Science and engineering boys love to be dirty, and others eat chickens and he eats pigs. Everyone is looking for a beautiful woman, but they want to find a nanny. " A naturally beautiful girl like you should not fall into the hands of this China patient. I advise you to like poets.

You said you like naughty boys, which I fully meet the requirements. Let me tell you a secret. When I was a child, I tried to spit on a girl. Here's the story. She told the teacher that I copied her homework, so I got back at her, symbolically drooled on her mouth, and then stayed close to her for a long time. Unfortunately, just as I was about to spray hard, our teacher suddenly appeared, dragging my ears behind me and carrying me out of the classroom. I took a big spit and swallowed it raw. That's disgusting.

As for music, I was born tone deaf and called me a punk. Unfortunately, I haven't learned a musical instrument. I studied guitar in primary school, and later I changed my hand to a simpler bass. The bass also found it difficult to learn, so I learned Sanxian directly. Later, my sanxian was very annoying, and my father forced me to learn erhu, but I didn't succeed. Later, I gradually realized that I really didn't have the talent for plucked instruments and mysterious music. I decided to learn ventriloquism and just started playing the flute. Slowly, I feel that playing the flute is not handsome enough, like a cowherd. I started whistling, but my mother said I looked like a hooligan. I learned to brag on the last day of my leisure. When all the cows were blown away by me, I began to learn not to talk. Although I have accomplished nothing, it is ok to listen to others sing. I like those songs that are out of tune best. The less noisy people are, the more artistic they are. It's popular now.

My family's request for my love is simple. First, don't be counter-revolutionary, second, don't be mentally ill, and third, be a woman. I think you fully meet the requirements of our family. Personally, I can simply introduce myself in one sentence: I am not too flashy, although I can not think about it or touch it in my life. My personal hobbies are extremely wide, from astronomy and geography to mother-to-child feeding.

I feel like a mute standing in front of my lover-it's not easy to say I love you. I hope you can give me a chance. If you refuse, I can only die of old age in the Fifth People's Hospital of Shenyang. If you give me hope, I think I will get out of the endocrine ward soon.