chelsea burns
I want a dirty weekend with her in Cabo where there are no rules.
There’s no way I could maintain an erection in the Green Zone. Nothing sexy takes place in the Green Zone.
It’s like an e. e. cummings poem. I space enter. You know what I mean? Like e. e. cummings interspaced with an s.o.s. message. I don’t understand your ludicrous crush on Chelsea Clinton.
I feel like she’d understand me. It’s not about the sex. Have you thought about what i’d do for Chelsea Clinton?
The Graham juice?
It’s good for your complexion.
She grew up in the White House! It’s like fucking Eloise.
No, no. This is the White House… This is The Plaza!!!
I imagine putting my head on her chest while she falls asleep. It’s Chelsea Clinton! Doesn’t the Clinton Administration occupy a major space for you? It was the administration of our childhood.
You don’t understand this?
Could you imagine sneaking into her house in 1998 and she’d be like, “Shhh, my parents are here”?
I always just dreamed that one day, I’d marry Chelsea Clinton.
You’re telling me you wouldn’t stand with me when I marry Chelsea Clinton? You’ll stand on the grooms’ side and bite your tongue as I married her. We’d hang out with the Clintons!
I took off my shirt this morning and thought, “I’m so hot.”
If Chelsea Clinton Googled herself, would she find our blog?
Chelsea Clinton has met Yasser Arafat.
