
Then he said, “Just give my feet a sniff, to confirm.” and I was like, “NO! YOU SMELL THEM!”
Then he said, “Just give my feet a sniff, to confirm.” and I was like, “NO! YOU SMELL THEM!”
My Parasitic Twin wasted no time taking a victory lap and was all, “I can see these fucking assholes eat me in a heartbeat.” Drops mic.
Amidst the shit show of dogs and leash aggression I had a nice moment in the gloom of the morning with a very old friend.
I managed a brief conversation with Ray from Philly who is an electrical engineer visiting a water treatment plant in Broomfield. That happened sometime between when I sent the angry text and the ladies showed up
… except Loony but who cares what he thinks. Yesterday my phone blew up with people texting me pictures and videos of this bad motherfucker. Yes, I went there with the penis reference. OF COURSE I WENT THERE! WHEN DO I NOT GO THERE? I’m not alone. and … I love how supportive my community […]
Loony spiced up our morning by some forced togetherness amongst That Fucking Cat and Scheissehund. I never knew that cats could roll their eyes.
I know that smell. It’s the smell of a house on fire.
I miss the effortless beauty of youth although I wouldn’t trade it for the beauty of less-effort existence of middle age.
Between courses we stretched, did handstands, crunches, and I tried to teach everyone how to make their butts and boobs bounce, which I happen to be very good at.
I hope one day he will become a writer. Not because I think being a writer makes you special or worthy, but because I really like what he has to say and the way he says it.