Favstar gets even better if you sign in.
To all the boys I didn't fuck because I was saving myself for marriage: I'm married now. Call me.
If I was smarter I'd make my social network passwords impossible to type when drunk.
Considering becoming a personal trainer so I can finally get paid for all this yelling I do at fat people.
I only post on FB just enough so that people won't suspect I've moved on to Twitter.
Husband is asking for my Twitter user name. I'll let him do anal before I share that.
Sometimes I worry that I'm bipolar. Then I remember that I'm female.
Husband, derisively, "I hope you aren't laughing at Twitter."
Me, "If it bothers you, I can masturbate to it instead."
It either says something about me or the people I spend my time with that none of them know I have a Twitter account.
I only teach my children to read because I will do anything to avoid having to play with them.
I don't care how funny they are. I'm not following anyone with 10's of 1,000s of followers. Too close to joining a religion.
Told the husband I'd do a full bikini wax job for his birthday and he bitched about the money. Yup. Bet his brother would pony up.
I can't remember where I put the keys, but I still remember the feel of a boy's hand on my thigh in junior high. When that goes, kill me.
You've made your bed, now fuck in it.
That "Post your Tweets to Facebook" button feels as life threatening as Russia's atomic bomb button did in the '80s.
I'm assuming Walt Disney invented cartoons because he wanted to be able to have weekend morning sex like the rest of us beleaguered parents.
It didn't go over so well at Thanksgiving dinner, when I joked, "I'm thankful Grandpa didn't molest me too."
For an insomniac, a nap is almost as great as sex.
If you love me, you will stop me from logging on to Fav Star.
Husband's idea of foreplay last night was to get stoned & watch Harry Potter. Intriguing, but ultimately ineffective.
The ugly mom doesn't want dads to join the playgroup. It didn't seem to help when I whispered, "Don't worry. They won't want to fuck YOU."
Red hair is caused by sugar and lust, the woman who was blonde, confided. Highly evolved beings do not indulge in sugar and lust. - Tom Robbins