i don't understand why hipsters don't want to be called hipsters.

i've been called one. i'm proud to have been called a hipster. i'm not proud that hipsters who don't want to be called hipsters give hipsters the stereotype that hipsters don't like to be called hipsters when they are hipsters in hipster denial. love yourself. claim your hipster.

why is it...

that when you are doing well and everything is great that assholes come back into your life to give insincere apologies out of guilt? that only reminds me that i spent too much time caring about assholes.

i'm the only one sorry. i'm sorry that i took the time to listen.

fuck off assholes, FUCK OFF!

What's thick, creamy, natural and slightly salty to taste?

My thighs and 365 Creamy Peanut Butter. Delicious!

Football doesn't have to be boring if there's taco dip.

I was at my friend John's house watching a football game. It was so fucking boring but it was a great excuse to hang around some boys, taco dip and drink too many beers. I was really getting toasty so I took my Bears sweatshirt off. I noticed that the boys watched me take it off. It was so clear that they were staring at my tits. Boys are so obvious. So I drank a few more beers and fed up with the boredom, I stood up and pulled off my tee shirt. The room got silent. It went from a loud boisterous conversation over an already loud football game to absolute and complete silence. I was in control and not bored for the first time that evening! Where my presence hardly seemed to matter for 2 hours it suddenly seemed to with one lift of my tee-shirt. The relationship I had with every single one of those guys changed at that exact moment. I wasn't one of the guys, I was a girl, the only girl, and I liked it.

They continued to stare at my pink lace bra. My mom had just bought it for me for my birthday. It was from Victoria's Secret. They loved it. They weren't smiling, but their mouths were open very wide. Wide and ready for my tits to be in their mouth. I knew by the look in their eyes that they liked my new bra, and the way I looked in it. The excitement of my pink lace bra was at full force! Boner city, bitches! My B's looked like C's, and damn, it was hot. Not only did they like my bra, they were enjoying my breasts as much as I do and I had 10 erections to count the success.

It only made sense for me to touch myself at that point. It was like a movie I had seen once and I was enjoying every moment. A parent free house and 10 horny boys staring at my breasts. My hand went to my neck then down towards my shoulder, my thumb under my strap and it fell down.

You probably want to know happened next, but I just can't tell you the details. Let's just say it included an orgy with a side of hot sauce. I don't get the nickname "Hot Sauce Queen" from nowhere. While I don't spend my weekends getting naked for boys anymore, it was a enjoyable evening where I turned 10 boys into puppets. Mmmm, now you know why I love hot sauce.

there was a girl who loved clementines

there was a girl who loved clementines so much she ate one every hour. she used the washroom every two. her fingers started to turn orange and she'd lick them. she unpeeled the fruit close to her breasts so the juice would spray on them. the sweet and tangy taste and smell intoxicated her. every time she'd sink her teeth into a new section, she'd get off by the burst of flavor and pulp exploding in her mouth. sensuous chews, grinding it into a satisfying flat piece of pulpless skin followed by a swallow. life would continue as normal until an hour would pass and she'd reach for another.

i'm easy.

i'm easy when things get hard. i'll please you and i'll do whatever you want. i want to do everything i can because i want it to be easy for you too. life feels good when it's easy. i desire to do and not think. if you want nachos i'll make them. when you eat them, i'll feel good. and if i can do anything else to make you happy i will because i'm easy and desire to assist you when things get hard. please get hard. i'll make it easy.

everything is going to the beat.