Being a Floozey Woozey


About to go to bed. Posting a quick piccy. I look like a giantly painted Ed Hardy T-shirt in it. I don’t put mini eggs in my vagina, (Oops sauntered off on a tangent) but have at one time had a Mars bar strategically placed sort of near it during an odd moment of serious passion… followed by ice cubes that got eaten out. (Haha…sorry Dad.) I currently want Russell Brand to gyrate on me, whilst tickling me with feather dusters & doing his ‘girly’ voice. We could write on each other in eyeliner and spray each other down in ‘love juice.’  Yes i am a bit drunk and i’ve just picked my baby brother up from clubbing, after being violently pushed around (against my will) in a shopping trolley by shirtless fans. Just seen the willy of a disgustingly awful looking man named Paul…it had a nose and googly eyes on it and tomorrow (wait whilst i wipe KFC from my mouth) i’m paying my old boarding school a little visit, therefore i have to look  somewhat respectable in the morning…OR i can just do these 4 multi coloured shots infront of me that seem to be on fire?? I LOVE fire!!! Dropped my pearls! Down Hill from here. Is that a cum stain i see Mister???

7 thoughts on “Being a Floozey Woozey”

  1. Tell all the kids that it’s cool to get a boob job and that school teaches nothing.

    I love influencing innocent minds. muahahhaaaa

    P.S. I think I am secretly in love with Paul and his talking Penis.

  2. I might get one and take it out with me…

    Obviously I’d pull everyone waving that around… I mean, you only have to look at sexual Paul to see what a people-magnet he’s become since his wicked willy


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