I smelled cotton candy. That’s weird thing #8 about a certain friend of mine.
Yep, the smell follows me everywhere I go.
Funny thing about popularity, it can be so very suffocating.
Sometimes we have to break away and do something else. None of us are our caricatures all the time. I’ll look forward to Helen’s poetry. You probably didn’t know quo likes poetry. As long as it’s about boobs, of course.
I was tired of being a pot smoking fibro bear, responding to virtual hugs and being polite all the fucking time. I am glad you understand. I am actually quite morbid, but I am sure you know this already.
Helen is my confirmation name.
I might throw in a boob poem, just for you.
Just for future reference, “breast” is more poetic, but “tits” is harder-hitting.
Duly noted. I also like the word “melons.” Try to rhyme that one.
Ollie ollie oxen free.
Apple, peaches, pumpkin pie! Who’s not ready holler “AYE”!
Nice one, doodle.
Thanks, Helen Bear.
Ah, how’d you guess?
I smelled cotton candy. That’s weird thing #8 about a certain friend of mine.
Yep, the smell follows me everywhere I go.
Funny thing about popularity, it can be so very suffocating.
Sometimes we have to break away and do something else. None of us are our caricatures all the time. I’ll look forward to Helen’s poetry. You probably didn’t know quo likes poetry. As long as it’s about boobs, of course.
I was tired of being a pot smoking fibro bear, responding to virtual hugs and being polite all the fucking time. I am glad you understand. I am actually quite morbid, but I am sure you know this already.
Helen is my confirmation name.
I might throw in a boob poem, just for you.
Just for future reference, “breast” is more poetic, but “tits” is harder-hitting.
Duly noted. I also like the word “melons.” Try to rhyme that one.
Felons.
*writing this down*