Check out my sweet floral patterns.
I am blog.
I used to blog. Now I troll.
I be wrapping boys up like pigs in blankets.
My insulins are spooning. If things go well, Mrs. Lantus won’t be a solo star forever.
Sometimes looking at pretty people makes me sad.
I have clocked over seven hours of 90210 today and the line between television and reality is becoming blurred and my body is confused.
This is happening.
Call me Isaac Newton cause I can make dat ass drop.
Well I never thought I’d be attracted to Hank McCoy…but there you have it.
I start brushing my teeth and I turn around and sort of like, half sit half lean on the counter. So when the paste is foaming up and it is time to spit, I think to myself, “Ugh, I’m too exhausted to even stand up again and turn around to spit. Wouldn’t it be so much easier if I could just swallow this and spit it out my butt (into the sink)?”
I think I’m going to refer to poops as butt spits from now on.
