pantsfever
PantsFever
pantsfever

 

So with you. I eat through books these days. I love it. It’s guaranteed “me” time.

I try not to judge people (unless it’s the good kind— “go you!”), but when someone is on my treadmill, I can’t help but hope they trip.

I think this is a YMMV situation, unfortunately. Some gyms just plain suck.

Lana del Rey has always struck me azzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

Ditto. I’m one of those people that goes to the gym first thing in the morning. It’s the gym at work, so I know the people there and a few are always trying to get me to do these group workouts. I just want to get on the treadmill for 90 minutes and read while I sweat my ass off, man. I don’t want to socialize. It’s

I’ve never had an issue imagining Aziz being sexual. Seacrest, yeah—not sexual at all, but mainly because I find him infernally irritating.

I’m also a big fan of cotton handkerchiefs instead of tissues. I keep a box of kleenex in the house, but I think a box will last me a good year because I turn to my trusty hankies. They’re also excellent for sweat-mopping in the swamp-ass of summer in Texas. Which began yesterday, by the way.

“Hold my wine” — Betsy Devos

Yes. Yes you fucking did.

It reads better when you’re older. Maybe try again? Maybe I’m just weird? I also liked Madame Bovary a lot more the second time.

I should be embarrassed but.... Encino Man.

Except Josefa. I’ll always make room for Josefa.

I have a silly daydream fantasy of encountering one of these painted up, contoured, strobed, baked, highlighted, and caked people and just silently taking a credit card edge and dragging it down their cheek, just scooping that goop off.

Someone who has tons of followers on their social media, which is based entirely on shovelling 340985 products on their face.

How badly do you want it? I have never not been able to find it.

I love dogs, just have no yard. I love on puppers whenever I can. (Bonus love for giant dogs I can wrassle with, especially slobbery pibbles.)

Everything Kris is doing, but naked.