Damn I’m sooo tired! Everytime I read, I get sleepy! And today I start reading this book from John Green about that girl with cancer (I dunno the enlish name, I read it in german) and really like it.
Just made me an iced coffee :)
And now there’s no way around about cleaning my room before driving to a friends house and making a little party with my girls!
(Can I say my girls? … Yes I can, cause they are and I love them
“i like curvy girls” aka you like girls with flat stomachs and skinny legs but with huge boobs and a huge arse
god bless this post.
This this fucking this is stupidly true.
I’m suddenly laughing at the idea of a cliche noir detective story written in the brutally concise style of Hemingway.
A woman walked into my office. She had legs. I noticed her legs. “I have a problem. I need your help,” she said. They always said that. I knew her legs weren’t the problem. I hoped she might want my help with them anyhow.
“Can you pay?” I asked. Of course she could. Her shoes were worth more than my rent. She could pay.
“I can pay,” she said. Her eyes were wet. I wondered if anything else was wet. Probably not. I am not handsome. Not since the war.
She was looking at my scar. Lots of people do. Most look away. Not her. She did not look away. She looked at my scar and I looked at her legs. There were two of them. I liked that about her. I liked that a whole lot.
“Will there be danger?” I asked. There always is. This city bleeds danger, then drinks it right back up again.“I’m afraid there might be danger,” she said. She had the voice of a beautiful woman. She also had the face and body of a beautiful woman. She was beautiful.
The light from the window was striped. It made stripes on my cigarette smoke. The end of my cigarette crumbled into ash. My marriage had also crumbled into ash.
“I can handle danger,” I said. I patted the butt of my gun. My gun was a Colt. My gun and my scar were all that was left from my time as a soldier. My gun, my scar, and the nightmares. I looked her up and down. “I am good at handling things.”
girls masturbate girls grow body hair girls have stretch marks girls get acne girls poop girls burp girls have all normal body functions that men do stop stigmatising all of it im so mad
guys get sad guys can bake guys break down guys want to be held guys cry guys scream into their pillow guys can have a hard time being manly so if you want us to see what you physically do as acceptable don’t mock us for being emotional
I love this
girls masturbate girls grow body hair girls have stretch marks girls get acne girls poop girls burp girls have all normal body functions that men do stop stigmatising all of it im so mad
this is an important reminder that ur legs are cute
even the top of ur inner thigh where there are stretch marks, where ur thighs meet. cute
also the scars that might riddle ur lil leggies. theyre cute
and the backs of ur thighs that have cellulite or freckles or tan lines, its all cute
congrats
u are in possession of a very cute pair of legs
tall people: if we are walking together please take into consideration my tiny legs. i cant keep up with you. please think of my tiny legs i dont want to be jogging to keep up with your leisurely stroll you TITANS
Just get a pair of roller skates and hang on to my sleeve, we don’t have all day.
If you ever trip and fall in public, get up, laugh to yourself, and say to anyone looking: “Sorry, it’s just been so long since I’ve inhabited a body.”
I did that once. Fell over and saw a guy staring at me. Got up and wandered past him muttering “too many legs, this body has too many legs, must fix that in the next phase” Look on his face was fucking priceless.
A bee can become drunk from fermented nectar and other bees will punish it by chewing off its legs.
“Hey, Pete is drunk again lets chew his legs off”
