I don’t mind talking about how these fat people at my hibachi table are making the dinner much less pleasant.
Threw up my dinner. Coughing up a lung. Quit my job. And of coarse I have gum disease. No regrets yet
“you wanna see my breasts” i say seductively to my boyfriend. i unbutton my shirt to reveal two large, succulent cuts of meat. i am a chicken. why do i have a boyfriend. why am i wearing clothes
Charlie Chaplin and Frankenstein…my goodness! Let me holla real quick.