You men have no idea what we’re dealing with. Teeth placement and jaw stress, and suction and gag reflex. And all the while bobbing up and down, moaning and trying to breathe through our noses. Easy? Honey, they don’t call it a job for nothing!
— I lost my orgasm.
— In the cab?
Men are for fucking, women for friendship.
If we could perpetually do blowjobs to every guy on earth, we would own the world… And at the same time have our hands free.
The sense of power is such a turn on — maybe you’re on your knees, but you got him by the balls.
When real people fall down in life, they get right back up and keep on walking.
— I'm thirty-five!
— Oh, shut the fuck up, I'm a hundred and forty.
— I made a mistake.
— Fuck you.
— I love you.
— Fuck you.
My mind was yelling how angry I was... but my heart, my heart. Fuck me...
When Charles Dickens wrote: "it was the best of times, it was the worst of times" — I believe he must have been having an affair with his married ex-boyfriend.
The country runs better with a good looking man in the White House. I mean, look what happened with Nixon; no one wanted to fuck him, so he fucked everyone.
I like my money where I can see it – hanging in my closet.
You and I are like that red wall. It’s a good idea in theory, but somehow it doesn’t quite work.
I’m looking for love. Real love. Ridiculous, inconvenient, consuming, can’t-live-without-each-other love.
I feel the same way about being a bridesmaid as you feel about Botox. Painful and unnecessary.
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