Chunky Stool
Well-Known Member
Oh shit! 
According to a commercial, I should tell my doctor if I'm breastfeeding.
But I forgot why...
According to a commercial, I should tell my doctor if I'm breastfeeding.
But I forgot why...
Random Jabber Jibber thread
- Thread starter mr sunshine
- Start date
lokie
Well-Known Member
Why you breastfeed? or Why you should tell your Dr.?Oh shit!
According to a commercial, I should tell my doctor if I'm breastfeeding.
But I forgot why...
Blue Wizard
Well-Known Member
Probably because the snake oil they are trying to sell you will kill your kid, you, or both if you take it while breastfeeding. It probably also has side effects like organ failure, cancer, and death. Ask your doctor about it though, it might make some mildly annoying symptom go away.Oh shit!
According to a commercial, I should tell my doctor if I'm breastfeeding.
But I forgot why...
Singlemalt
Well-Known Member
Are you the feeder or feedee?Oh shit!
According to a commercial, I should tell my doctor if I'm breastfeeding.
But I forgot why...
Bareback
Well-Known Member
Now that is the question
Last edited:
Chunky Stool
Well-Known Member
Oh fuck, it's recursive disease!
Roger A. Shrubber
Well-Known Member
no, the real question is who is the feeder?
Bareback
Well-Known Member
One tit or two , can you handle two at once.....i once was nawwing on a redheads tits and she my mustache tickled.... and I said so does yours......hay where you going!
Roger A. Shrubber
Well-Known Member
hopefully to shave
Skeet Kuhn Dough
Well-Known Member
Srirachi
Well-Known Member
...or as I often tell a lady, "I may not be the best lover you'll ever have, but I bet I'll make the top 100"
SageFromZen
Well-Known Member
Dear Connie,
I know the counsellor said we shouldn't contact each other during our "cooling off" period but I couldn't wait anymore.
The day you left, I swore I'd never talk to you again but that was just the wounded little boy in me talking. Still, I never wanted to be the first one to make contact. In my fantasies, it was always you who would come crawling back to me. I guess my pride needed that but now I see that my pride's cost me a lot of things. I'm tired of pretending I don't miss you. I don't care about looking bad anymore. I don't care who makes the first move as long as one of us does. Maybe it's time we let our hearts speak as loudly as our hurt.
This is what my heart says: "There's no one like you, Connie. I look for you in the eyes and breasts of every woman I see, but they're not you. They're not even close.
Two weeks ago, I met this girl at Flamingos and brought her home with me. I don't say this to hurt you, just to illustrate the depth of my desperation She was young, maybe 19; with one of those perfect bodies that only youth and maybe a childhood spent ice skating can give you. I mean, just a perfect body. Tits like you wouldn't believe and an ass that just wouldn't quit. Every man's dream, right?
As I sat ont he couch being blown by this stunner, I though, look at the stuff we've made important in our lives. It's all so superficial. What does a perfect body mean? Does it make her better in bed? Well, in this case, yes, but you see what I'm getting at. Does it make her a better person? Does she have a better heart than my moderately attractive Connie? I doubt it. And I'd never really thought of that before. I don't know, maybe I'' just growing up a little.
Later, after I tossed her about a half a pint of throat yogurt, I found myself thinking, "Why do I feel so drained and empty?" It wasn't just her flawless technique or her slutty, shameless hunger, but something else. Some nagging feeling of loss. Why did it feel so incomplete? And then it hit me. I didn't feel the same because you weren't there to watch. Do you know what I mean? Nothing feels the same without you. Jesus, Connie. I'm going crazy without you. And everything I do just reminds me of you.
Do you remember Carol, that single mom we met at the Holiday Inn lounge last year? Well, she dropped by last week with a pan of lasagna. She said she figured I wasn't eating right without a woman around. I didn't know what she meant till alter, but that's not the real story. Anyway, we had a few glasses of wine and the next think you know, we're banging away in our old bedroom. And this tart's a total monster in the sack. She's giving me everything, you know, like a real woman does when she's not hung up about her weight or her career or whether the kids can hear us. And all of a sudden, she spots that tilting mirror on your grandmother's old vanity. So she puts it on the floor and we straddle it, right, so we can watch ourselves. And it's totally hot, but it makes me sad, too because I can't help thinking, "why didn't Connie ever put the mirror on the floor?" We've had this old vanity for what, 14 years, and we never used it as a sex toy."
Saturday, your sister drops by with my copy of the restraining order. I mean, Vicki's just a kid and all, but she's got a pretty good head on her shoulders and she's been a real friend to me during this painful time. She's giving me a lot of good advice about you and about women in general. She's pulling for us to get back together. Connie, she really is.
So we're doing Jell-O shots in the hot bubble bath and talking about happier times. Here's this teenage girl with the same DNA as you and all I can do is think of how much she looked like you when you were 18. And that just about makes me cry. And then it turns out Vicky's really into the whole anal thing, that gets me to thinking about how many times I pressured you about trying it and how that probably fueled some of the bitterness between us. But do you see how even then, when I'm thrusting inside your baby sister's cinnamon ring, all I can do is think of you? Just wipe out all the grievances away and start fresh? I think we can. If you feel the same please, please, please let me know.
Otherwise, can you let me know where the fucking remote is?
Love, Dan.
I know the counsellor said we shouldn't contact each other during our "cooling off" period but I couldn't wait anymore.
The day you left, I swore I'd never talk to you again but that was just the wounded little boy in me talking. Still, I never wanted to be the first one to make contact. In my fantasies, it was always you who would come crawling back to me. I guess my pride needed that but now I see that my pride's cost me a lot of things. I'm tired of pretending I don't miss you. I don't care about looking bad anymore. I don't care who makes the first move as long as one of us does. Maybe it's time we let our hearts speak as loudly as our hurt.
This is what my heart says: "There's no one like you, Connie. I look for you in the eyes and breasts of every woman I see, but they're not you. They're not even close.
Two weeks ago, I met this girl at Flamingos and brought her home with me. I don't say this to hurt you, just to illustrate the depth of my desperation She was young, maybe 19; with one of those perfect bodies that only youth and maybe a childhood spent ice skating can give you. I mean, just a perfect body. Tits like you wouldn't believe and an ass that just wouldn't quit. Every man's dream, right?
As I sat ont he couch being blown by this stunner, I though, look at the stuff we've made important in our lives. It's all so superficial. What does a perfect body mean? Does it make her better in bed? Well, in this case, yes, but you see what I'm getting at. Does it make her a better person? Does she have a better heart than my moderately attractive Connie? I doubt it. And I'd never really thought of that before. I don't know, maybe I'' just growing up a little.
Later, after I tossed her about a half a pint of throat yogurt, I found myself thinking, "Why do I feel so drained and empty?" It wasn't just her flawless technique or her slutty, shameless hunger, but something else. Some nagging feeling of loss. Why did it feel so incomplete? And then it hit me. I didn't feel the same because you weren't there to watch. Do you know what I mean? Nothing feels the same without you. Jesus, Connie. I'm going crazy without you. And everything I do just reminds me of you.
Do you remember Carol, that single mom we met at the Holiday Inn lounge last year? Well, she dropped by last week with a pan of lasagna. She said she figured I wasn't eating right without a woman around. I didn't know what she meant till alter, but that's not the real story. Anyway, we had a few glasses of wine and the next think you know, we're banging away in our old bedroom. And this tart's a total monster in the sack. She's giving me everything, you know, like a real woman does when she's not hung up about her weight or her career or whether the kids can hear us. And all of a sudden, she spots that tilting mirror on your grandmother's old vanity. So she puts it on the floor and we straddle it, right, so we can watch ourselves. And it's totally hot, but it makes me sad, too because I can't help thinking, "why didn't Connie ever put the mirror on the floor?" We've had this old vanity for what, 14 years, and we never used it as a sex toy."
Saturday, your sister drops by with my copy of the restraining order. I mean, Vicki's just a kid and all, but she's got a pretty good head on her shoulders and she's been a real friend to me during this painful time. She's giving me a lot of good advice about you and about women in general. She's pulling for us to get back together. Connie, she really is.
So we're doing Jell-O shots in the hot bubble bath and talking about happier times. Here's this teenage girl with the same DNA as you and all I can do is think of how much she looked like you when you were 18. And that just about makes me cry. And then it turns out Vicky's really into the whole anal thing, that gets me to thinking about how many times I pressured you about trying it and how that probably fueled some of the bitterness between us. But do you see how even then, when I'm thrusting inside your baby sister's cinnamon ring, all I can do is think of you? Just wipe out all the grievances away and start fresh? I think we can. If you feel the same please, please, please let me know.
Otherwise, can you let me know where the fucking remote is?
Love, Dan.
mr sunshine
Well-Known Member
camarones a la diabla
Srirachi
Well-Known Member
You sir, suffer from acid reflux.
tangerinegreen555
Well-Known Member
So I found this old pic of my daughter's house that we remodeled a couple years ago, circa 1967ish.
That little tree in the middle of pic was a golden rain tree. My dad and I planted 3 trees a few years earlier when I was 10 yrs. old, that was one of them.
He got mad at it because it kept starting new trees right beside the house and chopped it in the late '80's.
But not before I transplanted 6 little ones at my house that I had just bought in 1988.
4 of them made it and I love them. Just for the memories. It's amazing that they made it and are now bigger than the original. I have several trees and ornamentals from long gone relatives, lot's of history in my back yard.
That little tree in the middle of pic was a golden rain tree. My dad and I planted 3 trees a few years earlier when I was 10 yrs. old, that was one of them.
He got mad at it because it kept starting new trees right beside the house and chopped it in the late '80's.
But not before I transplanted 6 little ones at my house that I had just bought in 1988.
4 of them made it and I love them. Just for the memories. It's amazing that they made it and are now bigger than the original. I have several trees and ornamentals from long gone relatives, lot's of history in my back yard.
Dr.Amber Trichome
Well-Known Member
I hope u feel better soon. I don’t want to go into too much detail...I’ve just got a broken heart
mr sunshine
Well-Known Member
Karah
Well-Known Member
What’s for breakfast?