My johnson is powerful. It has an IQ four standard deviations higher than johnson-normal, yet it has several learning disabilities which keep it humble -- it finds all this amusingly ironic.
It is not attractive, but it is not gaining weight and is pleased with that. It feels it is getting old, but it is not losing its hair, which is still its original color. It has several thousand friends on facebook under the name "Jack Johnson", and is just now getting into twitter, because it likes the immediacy and brevity of the format.
My johnson does not like complicated relationships or dramatic emotionalism. It likes order and predictability. It understands it is neurotic, and it takes care not to be a burden. It is very proud, in the old-fashioned sense of the world.
My johnson used to play poker, several decades ago now, and it misses that. It broke about even, small stakes -- it wasn't about the money, or winning or losing. It just liked the excuse to be sociable.
It is large enough to feed a family of five, and is available in seven flavors, including original cinnamon swirl.
My johnson has a headache that has lasted for over six weeks, and that's getting to be a bit of a concern. It has several phobias, and a diffused anxiety that causes it to avoid contact with other people.
My johnson used to write free verse poetry, but finds that in the past few years it has lost its creative urge, and is oppressed by the seeming futility of the world. It gets lonely, and wonders what the meaning of life could possible be.
It is aware of the passing years, and is growing uneasy about its future. It does not want to grow old in isolation and without security. But it is resilient and flexible when it needs to be, and if feels it will do all right, and meet all unavoidable challenges. it is resourceful, and it feels respected by those whose opinions it values.
Ah well. My johnson. My johnson.