Fingers In His Ass Sunday

we evolved a first layer of skin that can be removed without harming us due to the evolutionary pressures of super glue incidents

i get into a horrific car accident while carrying a crock pot full of meatballs in the passenger seat. at the hospital, the surgeons cannot sort out which chunks of meat are me and which are not, so I end up with several meatballs sewn into my guts. despite this I make a full recovery, and they elect not to remove the meatballs because quote 'they seem comfy in there.' i go on the talk show circuit and become moderately famous as The Meatballs Woman. when i die i am buried under a gravestone with meatballs carved on it. in the year 2438, a grad student from what is now Cambodia who is studying the late pre-collapse American Empire writes her thesis on this, concluding that I probably never existed and was a conflation of several real stories and urban legends. years later, a pop-history book wildly misinterprets this and several other things, arguing for the existence of a historic American religious pantheon including figures like The Meatballs Woman, Florida Man, Emperor Norton, etc. this book sells bizarrely well and inspires a new neo-pagan movement, which in turn leads to a weird shipping community, resulting in a small but vibrant scene of ABO fics featuring me and MrBeast (who in this context has been interpreted as a god of excess and trickery)

this chilling scenario is only one of the multiple reasons I am going to attempt to not crash my car today

in the gitted lab. straight up "pushing it". and by "it", haha, well. let's just say. Bad code

they need to make a pocket dimension you can hide in where time doesn't pass and everything is soft

me want bite

a collection

what's wrong babe you're barely anything

whats some fun activities to do while laying down in bed

nothing bottom jeans and boots with the nothing

thats right we have eyes on our target. you want me to suck the milk out of his cookie? the milk out of his cookie. the cookie hes holding and dipping in the milk. our target is eating the cookie. shall i suck the milk out of it? targets cookie is laden with milk. alert! proceed? proceed with milk evacuation. your orders sir. we have eyes on him sir. milk is in the cookie sir.