These about pages freak me the fuck out. What are you supposed to write?
I'm just a 40-summin year old fox, standing in front of a bottle of wine, asking it to love me...
I like peas.
I don't like balloons. Don't bring those things near my face, I will throat punch you. There is a reason that you can describe arseholes using balloon analogies! Exhibit A: That dog's arsehole looks like a balloon knot... See? *mic drop*
I'm a mom, I'm a wife... both of these may be the reason I occasionally day drink. I love them to bits, and they tolerate me.
I could motorboat some cheese cake right now.
I have no filter, use appalling language and I'll grossly disappoint you with my drivel some days, and other days, I might make hot liquid come out of your nose while you snortle.
Snortle.... is that even a word. Snortle.
Hang on. Let me Google that shit.
Snortle it is.
P.S I saved this image of me using the "Dramatically Cool" filter cause, you know... I'm Dramatically cool.