I’ve had sex on a blimp. Not in a blimp, on a blimp. This was better.
You should always have people you consider enemies.
You lied at least once about having Yellow Fever to get out of gym class.
Friendship? That’s not going to do it justice. We’re partners. Brothers even, cut from the same cloth and we’ve been inseparable since the day I was born. We got a bond homie, there’s no denying that.
Notice how entirely unimpressed she is. But you know she’s just playing the game.
We can fight back against the Elf on the Shelf. We can fight back against the watchful eye, the intrusive ear, of those who would see our every move, those who would listen.
It is a woman’s job to be as discrete with her period as possible, in order to protect the innocent minds of others, especially men.
Being at the airport when you are also at the airport.
Because our breasts get in the way of the microphone, and having them slam into the mic stand is not only painful, but also dangerous.
Polished crystal vase. Not empty. Filled with possibility.