Small boobs = happyface
Medium boobs = happyface
Big boobs = happyface
In conclusion, boobs = joy. No matter what. Whatever the size, feel, texture, or whatever, really. Boobs rock.
I
dream of drowning in a sea of boobs, trying hopelessly to swim, waving
arms and legs in every direction, with nothing to grab a hold of, but
boobs. Gasping for air and finding boobs instead.
I wonder how
god is going to handle the whole monogamy thou shalt not covet thy
neighbor's wife thou shalt not commit adultery thou shalt not covet thy
neighbor's boobs yadda yadda yadda...
When I die and go to heaven (I've no intention to go elsewhere... unless there's boobs), I want boobs.
Not just one pair of boobs.
I want a million billion gazillion fifillion pairs of boobs.
Hell, I want boobs for breakfast...
Because, If I die, and go to heaven, and there's no boobs, then it's not heaven, it's hell.
I
really do wonder how God is going to manage the whole boobs situation.
It's serious business. I mean, he could lose me altogether just because
of this whole boobs thing.
But then again, If i die, and go to
heaven, then it's supposed to be all pure and boring. So I guess not
only will there be no boobs, but what's even worse: there may not even
be a desire for boobs.
Bummer.
Doesn't that kind of defeat the whole purpose of dying and going to heaven and whatnot? What's the fucking point, then?
Oh, yeah... God... yay... -_-
Seriously? I get to die and spend the rest of eternity telling god how great, loving, caring, and overall wonderful he is?
Some rockstar...
And then there's hell...
It
would seem nobody's made up their mind whether the thing is made of
ice, fire, or ponies. One thing is certain, though: It ain't made of
boobs, at least according to books.
So, thank you, but no thank you.
No matter where you go when you die. You're screwed. No boobs, period.
I guess I'll have to live forever then...
