arm pits are very stinky, arm pits are like pits in the ground, they are caves of stink that no one wants to be in. pits of dirt hold snakes and spiders and other creepy crawly things. if you get stuck in a pit, your SOL. people who dig pits are scary!
Eric reaches for me, his green eyes sparking. “Do you remember me?”
I jerk away. “No, I’ve never met you in my life.” Amnesia is the pits, I think. Tears rush to my eyes as I turn away to survey the room.
It’s quite simple really, a small kitchen, a washer and dryer, a couch, and two doors, which I’m guessing has a bathroom and bedroom behind them.
“You have, but you’ve forgotten.” He closes his eyes and pushes himself from the wall. “Do you remember coming to London before?”
“No, I don’t,” I say stiffly. He lays on the couch and puts his hands behind his head.
My heart pounds in my chest, my breathing becomes labored. I glance over towards the door, but it’s a double lock, and now I’m locked in. Nervously, I rub at the goosebumps on my arms. All I remember of Eric is his eyes. And how do I know that he wasn’t someone that was out to kill me?
He sucked on the pits of his peaches. It was unusual, really. He would put one in his mouth, then, about four seconds later, spit it onto the ground. She had always wondered why he did it. But he always left the pits to rot on the ground after all of it, generally leaving a pile. He was an unusually quiet man, too. He never spoke to her when she walked past, and he never watched the crowd–he just sat there eating his peaches every morning.
life can be in the pits but i try to make the best of it while i can. pits can be armpits. they stink. but life is great. live life to the fullest. don’t worry, just live. life is too short. don’t live it in the pits.
It was allllll the way down in the pits. That’s where I found her. She was still together, but a little rattled up. It took us 7 days and nights to make our way out and we barely did alive. Old death had her way with me once already.
She had pits in her face, not dimples, but pits. Dimples are sexy and draw you in immediately when the person smiles. She rarely smiled, and when she did it looked like her face was about to cave in.
I ate the cherries pits and all, and the pits sank into my gut like little bullets of life, life that would not flourish in the whorling vortex of my gut.
i was in the darkest pits i think i’ve ever been to. i was there sinking slowly but surely. so much light i prepared and stored away and brought with me to this foreign land, and all they did was frown at it. they kicked it like a beat dog and worked to see it cry.
i feel like im falling in a pit of darkness. When i reach the bottom im not alone. there are others who fell into the same depression as myself and we dont know how to help eachother. we end up living happy in a government of sadness. we all get each other.
Armpits? The pits? The deepest depths from where sorrow sits and I currently am. I hate it here. Can’t I do something better with my life than sitting around all day? Pits.
standing backstage, behind all the thick curtains and hot stage lights, it’s got to be 80 degrees. my thick polyester shirt and long canvas skirt can’t be helping. i silently wish i’d put on about two sticks more of deodorant. a proper 18th century lady would not have pit stains. my character’s integrity will be compromised if i’m back here much longer.
It’s not like I don’t deserve a boyfriend. I’m smart and funny and kind and not that bad to look at … if you discount the age thing. Yeah, 43. Sucks when I say it outloud but I don’t feel bad and I’ve got spunk. Or so I’m told often enough.
Johnny might be 26 but he is such a flirt. And I think when he tells me I’m gorgeous it’s not just so I’ll give him a heavier pour on his Jack Daniels. I’d do that anyway.
The box said to rub the lotion in and wait 2 to 4 hours and the tan would miraculously appear. Seemed easy and I know the wan pallor of my flesh is not overly appealing to the opposite sex. So I wait. And think of Johnny.
Wait. I think I see something. Holy crap. Yes, it’s something of a tan. I look a bit bronzed maybe. Kinda sexy maybe. Not that crazy orange color you see sometimes on chicks at the mall. Except for … yes, it’s definitely orange in the arm pits. Ugh. No sleevless top for me tonight.
Suddenly, he felt himself slipping.
The ground came racing right towards him. Impact was inevitable.
Damn, he should have payed more attention to where he’s walking.
I watched her take the screwdriver
blunt from angled turns on walls
to hang a boot sale painting
a store posed photo
or a pressed petal
and screw into her skin
to let the insects out
from within
He never considered the consequences, did he. On no, he’d just go right along, not looking, not thinking and then bam! something else would happen and he’d whine whine complain and deny his own responsibility. It was like that with the olive, not looking, one bite, one pit and a $785 trip to the dentist.
One of the grossest things in the world is the stinky smell of crusted-with-sweat arm pits. Even worse than that is hairy armpits. The hair in the armpit makes the pit itself smell infinitly worse. It is downright disgusting. The smell of body oder and pits can ruin any occasion. If one was to go to a fancy elegant restaurant that smelled like pits, they would surely be far less attracted to the place than they had been before they inhaled through their two small nostrils the terrible smell of pits.
when it gets hot out, your pits will start to sweat, and when they sweat you stink. And when you stink, people avoid you. Then you will be a loner. Deodorant is your friend. Trust me on this one.
when I hear pits I think of arm pits. Hairy armpits and slightly sweatly. I smell b. o. It’s the pits. I sweat excessively so I think of how I say I gotta air out my pits. or shave my pits. gross
The pits of justice are deeper still. Taking your heart up and down steeper and steeper hills. I can’t say that they’ll ever have their fill. Oh well, the deal’s the deal.
Pits. dark, endless, bottomless pits. thats all i see for miles and miles. it seems an endless oasis, just barely recognizable. I may have mistaken it for the land but now that i look closer, it makes my heart sink. yes, its true. this must be a sign that confirms my misery will continue to last until i am able to climb myself out of the bottomless pits. I will continue to struggle until I am able to overcome this boundary, this obstacle. oh, what have i become?
My armpits are the pits of stench. They can sweat with large mountainous drops of perspiration. Then they just stink up my floral blouse with sweet smelly funk.
No one ever told Sandra that she’d find a collection of peach pits in her grandmother’s will. They were all left for her. What on earth was she supposed to do with peach pits; she didn’t have a clue. But they were hers now and she had no intention of throwing them out.
The tears streamed down her face. Sweat dripped off her chin. Dirty was smeared all over, mixing in with her mascara to form a tornado of brown and black swirls. Her back ached. Nails chipped. Hands blistered.
She dug.
I don’t shave my armpits sometimes… is that bad? I feel like a hippie… there’s something about just having my body be in its natural state that makes me feel comforted. I like it. I like feeling natural, it makes me feel clean. Obviously, I shave when I go out in public and school, but when it’s just me I just don’t do it, and I love it! That’s probably a strange thing to say… but oh well ;)
Will I be able to escape this horrible nightmare? Have I been this bad? I know only one thing, I can’t say I regret what I’ve done and I know all the consequences.
the world is a the pits. it falls and glides and drops into an endless bottom. to reach it is to succeed, and to fail is to never succumb to its wonder. The world is the pits, because without it, we wouldn’t have life and all its glory-awesomeness
an interesting abyss which exist under the arm or under the ground with an array of different aromas which can sometimes be improved with deodorant or air freshener
This is the pits. Seriously, how the fuck did I end up here? If there’s anyone up there then they hate me. Like seriously detest me, loathe my very existence. To send me here of all places they seriously want me dead. It’s telling me to make a U-turn, make a U-turn now when there’s no space to make a U-turn!
i got this word last time. what kind of fraud is this. who do you think you are. what has this good world come to? it;s just a cruel cruel place now, where no one has compassion or originality because they always give you the same word. this word is gross too, who would want to writ about it? they must have a sick mind.
If I had a cherry to give to you, I’d give you all the cherries I hold in my heart. There is nothing darker than the dark, but winters coming is a start. This word has popped up at least three times, and I always feel the need to rhyme. Why would there be such a word?
A scream echoed in this chamber, a sick, sinister grin beckoned his face. Freedom. His eyes blackened in delight. Oh, it won’t take much longer now. Just one more death.
Smelly pits so gross and fine, will the sweat be yours or mine? I question and I ponder this as he came closer with smelly pits. My nose, it crinkled and I blinked. It smelled like onions and, frankly it ranked. I don’t have much to say about this, but I do not like smelly pits.
arm pits are very stinky, arm pits are like pits in the ground, they are caves of stink that no one wants to be in. pits of dirt hold snakes and spiders and other creepy crawly things. if you get stuck in a pit, your SOL. people who dig pits are scary!
Eric reaches for me, his green eyes sparking. “Do you remember me?”
I jerk away. “No, I’ve never met you in my life.” Amnesia is the pits, I think. Tears rush to my eyes as I turn away to survey the room.
It’s quite simple really, a small kitchen, a washer and dryer, a couch, and two doors, which I’m guessing has a bathroom and bedroom behind them.
“You have, but you’ve forgotten.” He closes his eyes and pushes himself from the wall. “Do you remember coming to London before?”
“No, I don’t,” I say stiffly. He lays on the couch and puts his hands behind his head.
My heart pounds in my chest, my breathing becomes labored. I glance over towards the door, but it’s a double lock, and now I’m locked in. Nervously, I rub at the goosebumps on my arms. All I remember of Eric is his eyes. And how do I know that he wasn’t someone that was out to kill me?
He sucked on the pits of his peaches. It was unusual, really. He would put one in his mouth, then, about four seconds later, spit it onto the ground. She had always wondered why he did it. But he always left the pits to rot on the ground after all of it, generally leaving a pile. He was an unusually quiet man, too. He never spoke to her when she walked past, and he never watched the crowd–he just sat there eating his peaches every morning.
life can be in the pits but i try to make the best of it while i can. pits can be armpits. they stink. but life is great. live life to the fullest. don’t worry, just live. life is too short. don’t live it in the pits.
It was allllll the way down in the pits. That’s where I found her. She was still together, but a little rattled up. It took us 7 days and nights to make our way out and we barely did alive. Old death had her way with me once already.
She had pits in her face, not dimples, but pits. Dimples are sexy and draw you in immediately when the person smiles. She rarely smiled, and when she did it looked like her face was about to cave in.
I ate the cherries pits and all, and the pits sank into my gut like little bullets of life, life that would not flourish in the whorling vortex of my gut.
i was in the darkest pits i think i’ve ever been to. i was there sinking slowly but surely. so much light i prepared and stored away and brought with me to this foreign land, and all they did was frown at it. they kicked it like a beat dog and worked to see it cry.
Smelly armpits are disgusting. I hate them and can’t stand men that don’t wear deodorant. Right. Black, scary pits? COMPUTER GAMES YEAH.
a naturally formed or excavated hole or cavity in the ground
i feel like im falling in a pit of darkness. When i reach the bottom im not alone. there are others who fell into the same depression as myself and we dont know how to help eachother. we end up living happy in a government of sadness. we all get each other.
Armpits? The pits? The deepest depths from where sorrow sits and I currently am. I hate it here. Can’t I do something better with my life than sitting around all day? Pits.
The blood runs down her chin obscenely, the teeth she spits out like the pits of a peach.
standing backstage, behind all the thick curtains and hot stage lights, it’s got to be 80 degrees. my thick polyester shirt and long canvas skirt can’t be helping. i silently wish i’d put on about two sticks more of deodorant. a proper 18th century lady would not have pit stains. my character’s integrity will be compromised if i’m back here much longer.
Davy walks around with either his right or left hand in his pits. He calls it pit farting.
Peach pits, cherry pits, fruit. Yummy. It is summer and the sun is out. Farmer’s markets are full of fragrant, flavorful fruit. With pits.
It’s not like I don’t deserve a boyfriend. I’m smart and funny and kind and not that bad to look at … if you discount the age thing. Yeah, 43. Sucks when I say it outloud but I don’t feel bad and I’ve got spunk. Or so I’m told often enough.
Johnny might be 26 but he is such a flirt. And I think when he tells me I’m gorgeous it’s not just so I’ll give him a heavier pour on his Jack Daniels. I’d do that anyway.
The box said to rub the lotion in and wait 2 to 4 hours and the tan would miraculously appear. Seemed easy and I know the wan pallor of my flesh is not overly appealing to the opposite sex. So I wait. And think of Johnny.
Wait. I think I see something. Holy crap. Yes, it’s something of a tan. I look a bit bronzed maybe. Kinda sexy maybe. Not that crazy orange color you see sometimes on chicks at the mall. Except for … yes, it’s definitely orange in the arm pits. Ugh. No sleevless top for me tonight.
Like Johnny would notice anyway.
I very much dislike pits, they’re gross.
Suddenly, he felt himself slipping.
The ground came racing right towards him. Impact was inevitable.
Damn, he should have payed more attention to where he’s walking.
I watched her take the screwdriver
blunt from angled turns on walls
to hang a boot sale painting
a store posed photo
or a pressed petal
and screw into her skin
to let the insects out
from within
At the bottom, no way to go but up,
Still, I’m STUCK,
Don’t now how to get out of this,
Pit of muck.
He never considered the consequences, did he. On no, he’d just go right along, not looking, not thinking and then bam! something else would happen and he’d whine whine complain and deny his own responsibility. It was like that with the olive, not looking, one bite, one pit and a $785 trip to the dentist.
One of the grossest things in the world is the stinky smell of crusted-with-sweat arm pits. Even worse than that is hairy armpits. The hair in the armpit makes the pit itself smell infinitly worse. It is downright disgusting. The smell of body oder and pits can ruin any occasion. If one was to go to a fancy elegant restaurant that smelled like pits, they would surely be far less attracted to the place than they had been before they inhaled through their two small nostrils the terrible smell of pits.
I felt like I was thrown into the pits at that moment when he passed me and didn’t notice me…. What was it that always made him so attractive to me?
when it gets hot out, your pits will start to sweat, and when they sweat you stink. And when you stink, people avoid you. Then you will be a loner. Deodorant is your friend. Trust me on this one.
when I hear pits I think of arm pits. Hairy armpits and slightly sweatly. I smell b. o. It’s the pits. I sweat excessively so I think of how I say I gotta air out my pits. or shave my pits. gross
The pits of justice are deeper still. Taking your heart up and down steeper and steeper hills. I can’t say that they’ll ever have their fill. Oh well, the deal’s the deal.
Pits. dark, endless, bottomless pits. thats all i see for miles and miles. it seems an endless oasis, just barely recognizable. I may have mistaken it for the land but now that i look closer, it makes my heart sink. yes, its true. this must be a sign that confirms my misery will continue to last until i am able to climb myself out of the bottomless pits. I will continue to struggle until I am able to overcome this boundary, this obstacle. oh, what have i become?
My armpits are the pits of stench. They can sweat with large mountainous drops of perspiration. Then they just stink up my floral blouse with sweet smelly funk.
No one ever told Sandra that she’d find a collection of peach pits in her grandmother’s will. They were all left for her. What on earth was she supposed to do with peach pits; she didn’t have a clue. But they were hers now and she had no intention of throwing them out.
The tears streamed down her face. Sweat dripped off her chin. Dirty was smeared all over, mixing in with her mascara to form a tornado of brown and black swirls. Her back ached. Nails chipped. Hands blistered.
She dug.
I don’t shave my armpits sometimes… is that bad? I feel like a hippie… there’s something about just having my body be in its natural state that makes me feel comforted. I like it. I like feeling natural, it makes me feel clean. Obviously, I shave when I go out in public and school, but when it’s just me I just don’t do it, and I love it! That’s probably a strange thing to say… but oh well ;)
Will I be able to escape this horrible nightmare? Have I been this bad? I know only one thing, I can’t say I regret what I’ve done and I know all the consequences.
the world is a the pits. it falls and glides and drops into an endless bottom. to reach it is to succeed, and to fail is to never succumb to its wonder. The world is the pits, because without it, we wouldn’t have life and all its glory-awesomeness
an interesting abyss which exist under the arm or under the ground with an array of different aromas which can sometimes be improved with deodorant or air freshener
This is the pits. Seriously, how the fuck did I end up here? If there’s anyone up there then they hate me. Like seriously detest me, loathe my very existence. To send me here of all places they seriously want me dead. It’s telling me to make a U-turn, make a U-turn now when there’s no space to make a U-turn!
Fucking satnav.
i got this word last time. what kind of fraud is this. who do you think you are. what has this good world come to? it;s just a cruel cruel place now, where no one has compassion or originality because they always give you the same word. this word is gross too, who would want to writ about it? they must have a sick mind.
If I had a cherry to give to you, I’d give you all the cherries I hold in my heart. There is nothing darker than the dark, but winters coming is a start. This word has popped up at least three times, and I always feel the need to rhyme. Why would there be such a word?
A scream echoed in this chamber, a sick, sinister grin beckoned his face. Freedom. His eyes blackened in delight. Oh, it won’t take much longer now. Just one more death.
Smelly pits so gross and fine, will the sweat be yours or mine? I question and I ponder this as he came closer with smelly pits. My nose, it crinkled and I blinked. It smelled like onions and, frankly it ranked. I don’t have much to say about this, but I do not like smelly pits.