jesus sucks in bed.
this one was very close, very nearly a tie. but then, a tie would just be me being wishy-washy, and what good is that? it's no good. not in my zip code. not since little sheba ran away... be that as it may. here we are, all hail the conquering hero, this is the phrase that pays:
"ohmigod, i just want steve. want him. i. want. to. stick. my tongue.... in his butthole. yes. his girlfriend can watch. she can spread his cheeks."
thankyou, jodi. jodi, you are an inspiration to us all... us tired, huddled masses, yearning to give a good rimming to someone. let me buy you a beer.
in other news, the quoteworthiest news, let me share with you a touching voicemail. this, i recieved tonite after work at around two in the morning, after a torrential thunderstorm ass-pissed all over the tri-city area. no houselights, no streetlights, no nothing. all you could see is what your makeshift headlights chose to illuminate. this voicemail gave me comfort through it all, and with its help... i found my way home. it's from my delicious dish of a friend, Lisa. and i spell her name with a capital L because she deserves it. anything less, would be undignified. Lisa, take it away:
"hey paul, it's Lisa! i was- and scott! he's driving and sober, i'm not so sober. and we are, like, having fun driving home from the junction right now, i know you're um... still at work, but we had to call and tell you, that there were... BIG barfights at the junction, like tuh... two or three outside, and it was just... out of control. real... people with shirts off and shit, and granted they were hot, but seriously, do you really have to fight without your shirt on? i mean, serious. and there are, like, lights out all over the place, and it's just ridiculous, let me tell ya something. and, so i hope you drive home safely. and i, and yeah, so um, you have a great night and i hope you had fun at work and made LOTS of money. and uh. and i will talk to you SOON, probably not soon. scott will talk to you sooner, but i will talk to you eventually, if not at my birthday. our birthday. scott's and my birthday! on the nineteenth. that you're totally coming to and you have to take it off, and before you're voicemail cuts me off, it's saturday and you need to be there, and i love you, and you're great, and you're hot, and i love you, bye."
Lisa, you are the sour cream in my chalupa.
"ohmigod, i just want steve. want him. i. want. to. stick. my tongue.... in his butthole. yes. his girlfriend can watch. she can spread his cheeks."
thankyou, jodi. jodi, you are an inspiration to us all... us tired, huddled masses, yearning to give a good rimming to someone. let me buy you a beer.
in other news, the quoteworthiest news, let me share with you a touching voicemail. this, i recieved tonite after work at around two in the morning, after a torrential thunderstorm ass-pissed all over the tri-city area. no houselights, no streetlights, no nothing. all you could see is what your makeshift headlights chose to illuminate. this voicemail gave me comfort through it all, and with its help... i found my way home. it's from my delicious dish of a friend, Lisa. and i spell her name with a capital L because she deserves it. anything less, would be undignified. Lisa, take it away:
"hey paul, it's Lisa! i was- and scott! he's driving and sober, i'm not so sober. and we are, like, having fun driving home from the junction right now, i know you're um... still at work, but we had to call and tell you, that there were... BIG barfights at the junction, like tuh... two or three outside, and it was just... out of control. real... people with shirts off and shit, and granted they were hot, but seriously, do you really have to fight without your shirt on? i mean, serious. and there are, like, lights out all over the place, and it's just ridiculous, let me tell ya something. and, so i hope you drive home safely. and i, and yeah, so um, you have a great night and i hope you had fun at work and made LOTS of money. and uh. and i will talk to you SOON, probably not soon. scott will talk to you sooner, but i will talk to you eventually, if not at my birthday. our birthday. scott's and my birthday! on the nineteenth. that you're totally coming to and you have to take it off, and before you're voicemail cuts me off, it's saturday and you need to be there, and i love you, and you're great, and you're hot, and i love you, bye."
Lisa, you are the sour cream in my chalupa.
posted by paultoes at 12:35 AM
7 Comments:
are all your friends alchy's and ass rimmers?
I'm glad that a drunk dial made you happy. Mine would have been better on Friday, but you answered.
are all my friends alchy's and ass rimmers? yes.
are they alkys AND ass rimmers, or just one of the two? just want to clarify, to see which camp i fall into.
OH MY GOD!! ARE YOU SERIOUS? I can't believe you wrote that on your blog! and I can't believe i said like and um and yeah so many times, i should be taken out back and put out of my misery! But I love you, and i can't believe you put that voicemail with a blog about rimming...
what a commotion. amanda, you're honorary in either category. and everyone, let's think of said rimming as a metaphor, okay? great.
does the ass rimming have to be a metaphor? I am a proud alchy and ass rimmer!
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