Tara

“Headlining also meant a higher caliber of groupie—as in, they had enough self-respect to hide their track marks and cutting scars on the insides of their thighs, like ladies. These bitches were bold, too. Entitled even. Opening act groupies were bottom-feeders. Skittish. Easily scared off by a ninety-five-pound nineteen-year-old with a platinum-blonde pixie haircut and one hell of a stink eye. Headliner groupies, on the other hand, were scrappers. They were working on their retirement plans, goddamn it, and they weren’t going to let a little thing like me (or a condom) get between them and eighteen years of rock star–sized child-support checks.”
― B.B. Easton, 44 Chapters About 4 Men

“So, this is what a family is, I thought. Just a houseful of people who've all sucked on your tits.
And have also been inside your vagina.”
― B.B. Easton, 44 Chapters About 4 Men

“Then, he smiled. And my consciousness came crashing back down to earth, bitch-slapped out of its reverie, by the worst teeth I had ever seen. Fuck, they were bad. You could have parked a double-wide between those discolored front tusks, and the rest of them looked like they were engaged in fisticuffs, scrambling over each other in a desperate attempt to leap from that hellhole—pun fully intended—and finally put an end to their suffering.”
― B.B. Easton, 44 Chapters About 4 Men

“I would have done anything for an old fashioned phone right about now. Instead I have to suffice with pushing the End Call button really hard”
― melissa pearl, Betwixt