Men should be very careful about asking for threesomes with women. After experiencing the careful touch of a woman, after she sees all those layers of perfection in the arch of a naked female’s back. Your girl might never come back.
And who’s to blame her?
Loving women is obviously the better choice. It’s more fulfilling and less gross and brutish than loving (fucking) a man. Our legs are hard and heavy and hairy and our bodies stink and bubble up in the stomach.
We fart and lie constantly.
Women are delicate and invincible. Wild but tranquil, women hold entire galaxies in them.
Sometimes I am two people. Johnny is the nice one. Cash causes all the trouble. They fight.
- Johnny Cash
Just a reminder:the natural diet of these birds is BONES. Not just bone marrow; actual bone shards. They pick up huge freaking bones from carcasses and drop them onto rocks until they get spiky pieces and then they swallow them. Their stomach acid dissolves bone.
look me in the eye and tell me that’s not a fucking dragon
And they aren’t naturally red like that. That’s self-applied makeup. They find the reddest earth they can to work into their feathers as a status symbol.
And they don’t scavenge other parts of carcases, just the bones. 85-90% of their diet is exclusively bone. Hence why it’s only a myth that these birds would just pick up whole lambs and carry them off. It’s not true, but in German they’re still called Lämmergeier as a result.
So metalthis bird os beautiful
Everything I said sounded so caustic and lame but she skated across words with the self-assured grace of a pro-figure skater. She told me that she wanted to buy a male iguana and a female canary and at night she played Barry White hoping they’d mate and make a dragon and she said she wanted mummification to have a renaissance. She was completely nuts; everything I wanted but didn’t know existed. I closed my eyes and nodded, listening with the attentiveness old black women have in church. Her words were my sermon, and when she sheepishly asked me if she was talking too much, I wanted to smack her across the face and tell her that I never wanted her stop talking. I wanted to tell her that all the words I had ever heard before this very conversation were asinine garbage, and that all the words I’d hear after this would be nothing but the murmurings of worms, and that if I never heard her words again I’d cry like a man on death row hearing his favorite song for the last time.
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