Monday, May 12, 2008

Sex

Sex, sex, sex, sex, sex. That's all I think about. It's all I dream about. And it's not like I don't get it good every Saturday night...and Sunday morning, three or four times. I thought those hormones didn't kick in until the second trimester. At this rate, people will see me drooling on the street and think, "Oh, there goes the pregnant lady, lusting after those cookies in the bakery window," but no, I'll be walking over to hump the knot in an oak tree.

6 comments:

Anonymous said...

Hey ladee man, you ain't nev ha it so good as a good squirrel tail, you know I'm sayin'? So dem breasteses, dey groan even bigger, si?

--Manny

Anonymous said...

STFU Manny, u doan never hit no gravid ladee mang, dat shit just ain't right. Off limits, yea?

--KS-13

Anonymous said...

Manny, have you been in the yard then rolling around in my bed? Cuz the poison ivy has spread, and I haven't done yard work in two weeks.

Anonymous said...

Wha? Me? Neva! But, chu know, if you mebbe fines a silver cross on a black leather string, ch know I know sombuddy loss dat. My cuzzen. Agapito.

--Manny

Anonymous said...

Manny, you numbnuts, Agapito is still in El Salvador. Din your abuela Maria give you dat cross--an you loses it? Dumbass.

--KS-13

Anonymous said...

I cut you mang, I swear, I cut you you keep it up.

--Manny