I'm shaking. I'm fucking shaking. I never wanted to breed with anyone more than I want to with Nolan Grayson. That perfect, shredded body. The perfectly trimmed mustache. The planet conquering skills of a literal god. It honestly fucking hurts knowing that I'll never mate with him, have him pass his genes through me, and have me birth a set of perfect offspring. I'd do fucking ANYTHING for the chance for Nolan Grayson to get me pregnant. A N Y T H I N G. And the fact that I can't is quite honestly too much to fucking bear. Why would Robert Kirkman create something so perfect? To fucking tantalize us? Fucking laugh in our faces?! Honestly, I just fucking can't anymore. Fuck.
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I have the biggest crush for streamer
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please do not read this, it is a private message i am posting here since notepad crashed after i downloaded that one movie. I have the biggest crush on debuz, his chiseled chest sends heart palpitations deep into my soul. His masculine elbows make my knees quiver ever so
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Please wake up, we miss you
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If you’re reading this, you’ve been in coma for almost 20 years now. We’re trying a new technique. We don’t know where this message will end up in your dream, but we hope it works. Please wake up, we miss you.
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Kripp
Classic
That's the power of cargo pants
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Excuse me? Cargo pants, motherfucker. My pockets have pockets. You can't stop the storage. And when it gets too hot, just unzip and remove the lower half of the legs. Utility, motherfuckers. Want me to hold your phone for a second? how about I hold one of every phone on the market, each with their own individual pocket. Want me to hold your souvenir from your vacation to Europe? How about I put Europe in my pocket. That's the power of cargo pants, motherfuckers
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Natalie Portman is the reason I work out
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."
Classic
Any advice, Dad?
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Kʀɪᴘᴘ, ᴛʜɪs ɪs Tʏʀᴏɴᴇ, ᴜʀ sᴏɴ. Mʏ ᴍᴏᴍ, Lᴀǫᴜɪsʜᴀ, ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴛᴏʟᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴍᴇ. I ᴊᴜsᴛ ɢᴏᴛ ᴋɪᴄᴋᴇᴅ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴏғ Cᴀɴᴀᴅɪᴀɴ ᴇʟᴇᴍᴇɴᴛᴀʀʏ sᴄʜᴏᴏʟ ғᴏʀ sᴀʏɪɴɢ "F*ᴄᴋ" ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴜ. Oʀ ᴍᴀʏʙᴇ ɪᴛ ᴡᴀs ғᴏʀ ʏᴇʟʟɪɴɢ "RIP" ᴡʜɪʟᴇ ᴘᴜɴᴄʜɪɴɢ ᴀ ᴋɪᴅ...ᴀɴʏ ᴀᴅᴠɪᴄᴇ, Dᴀᴅ?
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Kripp