finish this sentence: m
y body craves for the touch of mashed potatoes, the soft white flesh of the vegetable sliding over my body. i havent slept in fifteen days. only the beautiful rapturous gooey white semi solid plant matter inspires me to continue living. sometimes i like to imagine that the mashed potatoes have accepted me as their loving partner. oh can i dream.
What the actual fuck
DREAM BIG!Is this the childhood drawing ofjennhoney?
i might be a potato
Keep it secret. Keep it safe.
One of the first things I said this morning was *sigh* “are we really sharing potatoes?”
HAPPY ST. PATRICK’S DAY!
Why the hell don’t I make colcannon all the time? It’s so damn good.
Murble is having a small gathering tomorrow that I don’t want at gather at:
me: are you making colcannon?
me: mashed potatoes wit
AuntMurble: no. I’m making corned beef.
me: *low moan with death rattle-y gasps for breath*
me: will you make it if I stand here and look sad?