twitchquotes:I was offered sex today, with a 21 year old girl. In exchange for that, I was supposed to advertise some kind of e-betting website to my friends. Of course I declined because I am a person of high moral standards with a strong willpower. Just as strong as Ebettle, the best betting website on the internet. Now available for children.
I was offered sex today, with a 21 year old girl. In exchange for that, I was supposed to advertise some kind of e-betting website to my friends. Of course I declined because I am a person of high moral standards with a strong willpower. Just as strong as Ebettle, the best betting website on the internet. Now available for children.
I have gotten the covid vaccine about 20 times now
I have gotten the covid vaccine about 20 times now. 4 Pfizer, 12 moderna, 4 Johnson. Once I got my first vaccine, I started cravings for it. There is something so great knowing I am reducing the spread of the coronavirus with each of them. I am feeling so empowered. I think I may be addicted ngl :sweat_smile:. At least it won't kill me.
I have gotten the covid vaccine about 20 times now. 4 Pfizer, 12 moderna, 4 Johnson. Once I got my first vaccine, I started cravings for it. There is something so great knowing I am reducing the spread of the coronavirus with each of them. I am feeling so empowered. I think I may be addicted ngl :sweat_smile:. At least it won't kill me.
Natalie Portman is the reason I work out. I have this fantasy where we start talking at the Vanity Fair Oscars party bar. We exchange a few pleasantries. She asks what I do. I say I loved her in New Girl. She laughs. I get my drink.
"Well, see ya," I say and walk away. I've got her attention now. How many guys voluntarily leave a conversation with Natalie Portman? She touches her neck as she watches me leave.
Later, as the night's dragged on and the coterie of gorgeous narcissists grows increasingly loose, she finds me on the balcony, my bowtie undone, smoking a cigarette.
"Got a spare?" she asks.
"What's in it for me?" I say as I hand her one of my little white ladies. She smiles.
"Conversation with me, duh."
I laugh.
"What's so funny?" she protests.
"Nothing, nothing... It's just... don't you grow tired of the egos?"
"You get used to it," she says, lighting her cigarette and handing me back the lighter.
"What would you do if you weren't an actress?" I ask.
"Teaching, I think."
"And if I was your student, what would I be learning?"
"Discipline," she says quickly, looking up into my eyes, before changing the subject. "Where are you from?"
"Bermuda," I say.
"Oh wow. That's lovely."
"It's ok," I admit. "Not everything is to my liking."
"What could possibly be not to your liking in Bermuda?" she inquires.
"I don't like sand," I tell her. "It's coarse and rough and irritating and it gets everywhere."
Natalie Portman is the reason I work out. I have this fantasy where we start talking at the Vanity Fair Oscars party bar. We exchange a few pleasantries. She asks what I do. I say I loved her in New Girl. She laughs. I get my drink.
"Well, see ya," I say and walk away. I've got her attention now. How many guys voluntarily leave a conversation with Natalie Portman? She touches her neck as she watches me leave.
Later, as the night's dragged on and the coterie of gorgeous narcissists grows increasingly loose, she finds me on the balcony, my bowtie undone, smoking a cigarette.
"Got a spare?" she asks.
"What's in it for me?" I say as I hand her one of my little white ladies. She smiles.
"Conversation with me, duh."
I laugh.
"What's so funny?" she protests.
"Nothing, nothing... It's just... don't you grow tired of the egos?"
"You get used to it," she says, lighting her cigarette and handing me back the lighter.
"What would you do if you weren't an actress?" I ask.
"Teaching, I think."
"And if I was your student, what would I be learning?"
"Discipline," she says quickly, looking up into my eyes, before changing the subject. "Where are you from?"
"Bermuda," I say.
"Oh wow. That's lovely."
"It's ok," I admit. "Not everything is to my liking."
"What could possibly be not to your liking in Bermuda?" she inquires.
"I don't like sand," I tell her. "It's coarse and rough and irritating and it gets everywhere."