I love myself. I think that I am a very top-quality person.

I stuff each breast into a cotton cup-bag, and the bags are sewn together as a pair of bags for boobs, and the pair of boob-bags is held on by straps because I guess this helps the boobs from not floating past the mountains and white puffs and into outer space?

Inside the cotton-cups my nipples press like bright coins against the boundaries of the bags because they want to be out and on a beach and not in bags, and they would gladly pay to be set free, but I can’t give any money toward freedom because my money is for the Restaurant tonight.

The dog’s butthole fell out while he was pooping and they got an operation to put it back in.

Hello, I am a woman here on this ancient ball that rotates with a collection of other balls around a bigger ball made up of lights and gasses that are science gasses, not farts. Don’t be immature.