Right in my very blabbermouth skins

oman, denver artist, band names, palestine, collateral, we take ourselves seriously. we do. lookin' at mediatic ideas of politics, trans, puff daddy, skins, danny, italian mafia, gangsters, I love my wife, but does she really have to be such a blabbermouth mammal? Okay, I have put this off long enough. The time has come. I'm off to The Booby Bar to see what they've got on tap... *************** *************** Oh, where do I begin? Well, I did feel the need to find the appropriate glass. Drinking it from a baby bottle seemed too on the nose (not to blabbermouth mention too creepy), and I didn't have enough milk to justify blabbermouth a martini glass. (Although with a splash of Bailey's I suppose you'd have yourself a nice "Nippletini.") Luckily the "Dumbass Website Gods" smiled down upon me.
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Right in my very own refrigerator. And it came right out of my wife! No, skins I'm not talking about that giant cucumber, perv. I'm talking about breast milk. That's right. And not just a little drop off the odd finger, but a genuine slug of freshly-pumped wife juice. (I'll go ahead and ignore the shiver I just got, and keep typing.) Thinking about actually drinking breast milk has caused me to ponder the question: Is it not weirder to drink cow's milk which is truly intended for baby cows? The answer: Hell no! The only thing skins weirder than me drinking breast milk, is the fact that milk is coming out of my wife's chest in the first place. It sure as hell didn't do that when I met her. I'm telling you, the whole thing is lunacy.
raymond j. barry, donal sutherland, about me, epidemiology
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