Ok! Exclamation points! Are fun!
You can let him into the larger yard if you like, but you'll be pregnant by morning...
You are right. Sarcasm detector got broken, working on repair. So many people say serious things like that, yay, you're not them!
oh, please. He's happy enough. Just begging for sex. And his tongue and voice are fine. It's getting crazy out there when an animal medical professional and activist like me starts telling people to chill out on their animal exploitation call outs.
That's why I say we ask all of them if changing it to the Washington Niggers would be ok as a tribute to Black heritage. Oh and along with that, dressing like mammies and wearing blackface. Surely, if we can agree that that would be highly inappropriate, racist and offensive, then maybe they can get to an "aha"…
And this from a fucking black man. I don't think he would have a problem changing it if it was the Washington Niggers.
If she really felt threatened, then that is just her admitting that darker skinned people in a group scare her. Did she really just call the cops and say basically that she's scared because she's racist?
This is my whole life before moving to SoCal. Living in St. Louis, New Orleans and Dallas, finding myself in a room full of people I had to be with every day who spout awful shit about minorities over and over and over, who assume I think like them because I happen to be white. I took a stand where I could, to make…
Tell my why again, that men can't look confusedly at pills with women?
Why are restaurants accommodating up to a point? We serve everything how you want it, except, no substitutions on that dish, that section is closed, and we can't just bring you the garlic bread without the cheese.
I get anxious being in the middle of the room, plus the husband has back problems and has to be picky about chair choice. I'm nice about asking for what we need. I dunno, I always feel disliked by most restaurant staff anyway. I don't dress well, I think I look like bad tip or trashy table lady or something. I tip…
Why did hotels ever start checking ID? My dreams of checking in as Mr. and Mrs. Fondelle with my illicit affair are dashed. DASHED!