Would you settle for the knockoff version of something instead of the original?

earlier today,
i was at dunkin,
indulging in my usual iced coffee.
it was one of those “i deserve!” days.
while i was casually scrolling through my phone,
i heard this deep and low voice behind me.

“Can you add caramel to this coffee,
please?”

it sounded like work wolf…

I love dumb shit.
Sidebar: he looks better with his hair like this.

…like,
obvious dumb shit.
not “oh i was genuinely blindsided by this“.
guccithirdleg,
who has a massive penis and uses OF to make a living,
he claims he has had over 300 (or was it 3,000?) sexual partners.
that would signal “high alert community penis“.
that kind of behavior usually cums with recklessness and crotch critters.
he’s been burnin’ up the timeline with all kinds of allegations.
not only is he allegedly giving out…

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You cannot,
and will not,
font that Rhyheim Shabazz is not a good looking hybrid.

so when i look OF content,
it is the passion that takes it (literally) for me.
it’s the act of sex itself that is sexy to me.
there will always be a level of dominance in sex,
because it is still an animalistic (and painful) act,
but i always enjoy the big things in the middle when someone is being topped.
i’m full of puns today.

The moaning
The grunting
The begging
The eyes rolling
The “Oh babys” and the “I can’t take anymore”

if that ain’t happening,
i’m not interested.
there has been a whole discussion on elon’s swamp about rhyheim.
i peeped that someone tweeted:

“They let Rhyheim HAVE IT.”

…about his latest scene that happened to be a threesome.
“pops impaled” as he called it.
first of all,
pops with these two young looking twunk wolves?
what?
anyway,
when i went to go look because i was expecting a scene…

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I had to wonder:
Have you ever noticed how sometimes,
the storms in our lives feel bigger and scarier than they actually turn out to be?

last week,
i found myself in a spiraling of worry.
i was crazy anxious about karaoke,
a few friends,
and some Foxholers living in tampa, florida.
all of them in the direct path of hurricane milton.
the panic only deepened after hearing a government official’s stern warning:

“Leave or y’all gonna die!”

while some friends and Foxholers were in full blown panic,
i called karaoke,
bracing myself for the worst.
to my surprise…

What if a male is the ultimate fantasy to fuck,
but once you have both fucked each other’s brains out…
that’s it?
No sparks,
No substance,
and just one giant meh.

everyone’s still buzzing about victoria monét and john gaines jr. splitting up.
apparently,
she’s moving on:

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leaving everyone asking:
why would victoria let go of such a fine,
fine,
and “did i font fine” wolf like john?

“If i was with John,
I’d fuck him absolutely stupid,
bathe him,
and drink his bath water,” said literally almost every gay and vixen on Bey’s internet.

but i want to challenge a thought…

What happens when you realize you’ve been the superhero in everyone else’s story,
yet your own plot feels a little…
un-heroic?

i made a mistake.
a big one.
after days of feeling so low,
it hit me like a lightning bolt…