When it comes to sex, I`m pretty sure I’ve lost it.
There’s a good chance if I showed my it to someone right now, they’d say, `That’s not it.’
There’s an equally good chance if I showed my it to someone right now, they’d say, ‘Hey! Cousin Itt is here!’
It’s difficult to predict these things.
I’m here trying to get some boxes moved around and getting frustrated at one box in particular that I can’t seem to arrange so that it stays in place and still allows me to get by it with other packages. So I start rearranging some of the earlier boxes in an effort to get the whole thing to work the way I need it to, only by now the rebellious box has got some of his little box friends all riled up and I’m dealing with what I’m sure will come to be known in the history books as “The Great Box Riot of 2011”. Rather, I tried to deal with it, without success. I finally decided this was a battle for another day, and went off to do something else.
As I left the room, I said “I’m not surprised, really. Boxes have always had a problem with me. It’s probably because you know I have a box of my own. I don’t need you.”
They see me masturbatin’, and they hatin’.
I gave that two opposable thumbs up.
I’m such a show-off.
I am going to open a maternity store. And call it…
FUCKED!!
aerissa: Sounds great! I’ll be opening the store directly to the left of FUCKED!! Calling it YOU ARE SO.
Although WISH I COULD GET makes sense, given who own it… *sob
paulosthegreek said: I read a Batman comic today and at the back was a sketch which made me think of you
aerissa: I’m really hoping the back of that comic book showed a sketch of a female superhero and not abefore picture of someone in desperate need of extensive full-body plastic surgery.
And if you were looking at an ad for The Humane Society when you began thinking of me I do NOT want to know. Lie to me, baby. No, really. I insist.
