Daddy's home and the belt's coming off this week. In the aftermath of the floor party extravaganza, several romances have been blossoming in the manure pile that is TC.

Perhaps in an attempt to pay tribute to our country's veterans, TC-ites recreated the Normandy beaches of World War Two, an image spoiled only by the widespread Asian Glow. A suspicious scent wafting from under an unidentified door, suggested to Daddy that some TC residents were joining the mile.....HIGH club. In other news, some people should just never drink. ever. under any circumstances. You know who you are. As often happens at floor partays, a certain cock-guzzling thundercunt infiltrated and non-consensually violated the doors of Commoners.
Fuck Erik Tye...learn calligraphy, jackass.
Changing the subject completely, Daddy was rudely awoken many moons ago to the sounds of robust cardiovascular activity echoing through the halls. Other residents have confirmed this to be the work of our QUiRKiest sailor. Daddy hopes he played it safe...and wore a condom.
Also, bitches need to stop talking in the hallways. Quiet or Papa spank.
On a more disappointing note, shoutout to Daddy's little blue flute player for keeping that chastity belt securely fastened for the duration of the floor party.
A warning to all of Daddy's little treasures: suspicious brown man spotted drawing penises all over TC. If you see him in the hall: be warned: he WILL attempt to draw a giant phallus on your person.
xoxo,
No other blog can compete; You know you love me (cuz im yo Daddy, bitch)