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I'm busy giving naked "pony rides" in the back yard. My husband says I can come back in the house when I've made enough money for groceries.
My VERY white, VERY autistic son: "My phone is blownin' up today cause it's my birthday, mom!" REPRESENT, SON!
Twitter friends, when you see I've starred your tweet, I would like you to imagine I've placed a gentle kiss on any body part you choose.
No! Of course I don't let the wine breathe before I chug it! Who the fuck do you think I am? The Queen of England or something?
If I had nuts, I would force Daylight Savings time to suck my left one.
When I bite into a Cadbury Creme Egg, my first thought is always: "Wow, that looks like cum. With pee in it." Then I ravenously devour it.
FYI the quickest way to my vagina is with stars. Not real love.
Ordered one pasta fork from Amazon for $15. Received 6. Hey Charlie who's winning now, huh? Top THAT, asshole!
This morning for breakfast I had 3 scrambled Cadbury Eggs with bacon. Then I threw up
I don't chase stars. I chase free booze and lengthy oral sex sessions.
My son is 13 years old today. Time flies! Another couple of years and we'll be renting the town hooker instead of the town bowling alley!
There's nothing like a FULL DAY of family time to make you wish you had been raised by wolves.
It's colder than a witch's tit outside. How do I know? I'm a witch and my tits are cold...but not as cold as it is outside. Got it?
Just to piss my mother-in-law off this Easter diner, I'm gonna jerk her son off under the table. Not the one I'm married to - the other one.
I'm already at my local bar, throwing back beers and discussing which direction the black cloud of poverty and despair is blowing today.
I'm going to the movies tonight and I'm smuggling my own candy up my anus.
One of my tweets got some stars! I win a prize now, right? Why don't you fucks pool your money and send me some ass cream. My asshole iches!
My 12 year old son keeps singing "Holla Back Girl" by Gwen Stefani at the top of his lungs. I'll assume this is God punishing me for my sins
Nothing makes my morning farts resonate like the seat of my hardwood rocker.
I usually sleep on my back, spread eagle, in case any of the evil spirits in my house feel like having a go.
My tweets are generally appalling, not to mention disgusting. Making a concentrated effort to lose followers with each tweet. Don't even bother following me.