I have managed to secure access to an ancient video broadcast called a “YouTube Channel”: “Yoga With Adriene 30-Day Yoga Challenge.”
Girl of my dreams: Loves me unconditionally, smart, beautiful, supports my decisions.
Girl in my dreams: Face is obscured, wraith-like, touches my elbow which makes me cum instantly.
There can only be one girl boss, the rest are just girl associates.
Thinking about the time when I was 5 and my dad told me to give a fake name to the clown at my birthday party because “nobody needs to know your business.”
These symptoms could be from a directed energy attack or because you are fifty-ish and careening headlong toward "the big change."
Is the desolate fucking melancholy setting in yet? That was a rhetorical question. Sorry. I need a new job.
I will still go to the farmer’s market, but I will definitely be glancing at the sky and looking for anything that looks like it might crash into me.
Construction Soundscapes: - Indoor: Hammering, Banging, Drilling - Indoor/Outdoor: Reverberating Machine Humming (Origin Unknown)
- Your resting face just seems to send hostile messages, is all. Are you saying no one has asked about this before? - Seriously?
Not only is the third-person thing annoying, but it ends up sounding like a command. Simon says raise your hand if you want to slap me for that.
- Ah, yeah, I got Pfizer, too. - My weekend was good! Just went to the park, socially distanced. How was yours? - AGH, OUCH! Shit. No, I’m okay.
While you were busy arguing about whether or not I’m still in style, did you ever stop to consider my feelings?
There is a powerful part of me that needs, for just one night a year, some very specific, humiliating things from an outlaw rebel ghost.
Bulk of budget devoted to keeping Aragorn looking as wet as possible at all times.
