My hips are going somewhere. I don’t know.  Maybe Pakistan.  I think they know springtime is best there.  They are getting an early start, perhaps.  Probably via bus and train then a boat, I presume.  There is ocean between my hips and Pakistan.  I hope they take my thighs with them.  Hate lifting those fuckers just to wipe my cooch.  The heft of them is tiresome. 

I think I will leave out some luggage for them.  Little tiny luggages for chunks of my fat.  So cute.

I got fucked the shit out of the other night. zomg capital letters.  Lots of back patting afterwards.  How do cocks become so enormous?  There are definitely varying degrees of erectness.

I will be over enthusiastic when we meet. It’s a given.  Especially if I’m drunk.  I love you now, across the wires, just seeing you in person, well, zomg small letters, I will most likely hug the fuck out of you and shit.  Please to prep the bitches.

I have been busy this week while you two blaze the nines.  I save your words for last. Every time.  Man, you guys are like the last cupcake on the plate that has my name across it in white frosting.  I sit myself down, peel that paper back s l o w l y admire and then eat that shit like a fucking whore slut. 

I told some lies today.  Also, if you spend the grocery money on not groceries in a secretive manner and  if you skip buying groceries to compensate for the expenditure then it’s all good, right? It’s “a wash,” right?

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